My Experience in Setup and Strike

When I got into the entertainment industry in the fall of 2021, I had no idea what I was walking into. I started as a stagehand, eager to learn the ropes and get a firsthand look at how live events come together. We worked with stringers, Leekos, and RGB lights. At first it was difficult, but looking back, I made it more difficult than it should be. It was the technicality of how precise you have to be when running a variety of different cables. By March 2022, I was working at an arena, doing everything from setup and strike to move-ins, event attendance, and even security. I put in the work, showed up ready to go, and did more than my fair share of the job. Not only did I show up ready, but I would arrive at least an hour early. But what should have been a career with growth potential turned into a frustrating battle against workplace politics, favoritism, and quiet firing.

The Work They Don’t See

If you’ve never worked in event setup and strike, let me paint a picture: long hours, heavy lifting, and the pressure of making sure every stage, barrier, and seat is exactly where it needs to be before showtime. Then, once the event ends, everything has to be torn down and packed away just as fast. Let me rephrase: setup is time-consuming due to how tedious and precise everything needs to be. When it comes to striking, it’s rather quick because all that is being done is taking it down. It does not matter how, just that it’s put back where it needs to be for the next event. It’s physically demanding, mentally exhausting, and requires teamwork. Or at least, that’s how it should work.

For myself, that teamwork rarely existed. I found myself surrounded by coworkers who were more interested in gossiping than working, yet they were the ones given priority roles. I was constantly given the worst tasks—ones that kept me away from the actual setup and strike of events. They’d claim I “wasn’t doing anything” while I was outworking them. It didn’t matter how many times I lapped them in efficiency; they had their clique, and I wasn’t part of it. Which is rather odd, due to how a number of the crew members would brag about how they are phenomenal leaders and their skills are superb. It is the opposite; they would brag about how they have leadership skills yet do not know how to lead crew members or do not know who is at fault or what they should do. There was this time we had to strike the stage. That includes stage decks and stage risers. One group tackled stage decks, and the other stage risers.

Once a few decks were off, we gathered the risers. It came to the point where I caught up with the other group tackling stage decks, and there was a wait as decks were still on. So, I wanted to find other work, as the so-called “leader” wanted to rest his gym bro muscles. He said, “Let’s focus on the stage.” I replied, “Well, get to it. All you are doing is standing around.” I guess that was common behavior and was acceptable. He didn’t have the integrity to admit I caught up with him. Speaking of the fact that he’s been there 7 years, I was a threat to how they did things. Stood around, couldn’t set things up the right way. He had the audacity to say I lifted one stage deck. That being said, he wanted to badmouth others by putting in the work. Just so he could be recognized as a “great leader.” There were multiple incidents where the stage was built incorrectly due to supervisors not understanding how it should be built when they had the notes. It’s rather sad; you can’t go through to make sure the stage is not 5 ft high; instead, they would go with the first number you see. Like, the supervisor states, “The stage is going to be 4 ft high.” Come to find out during a move-in the following morning, I and the ops manager had to fix it a foot higher. 

Quiet Firing: The Slow Burn

As time went on, I noticed my schedule shrinking. Fewer shifts, fewer calls, and fewer opportunities to be involved in the bigger, more important aspects of the job. This wasn’t because of my performance—it was quiet firing in action. The goal wasn’t to outright fire me but to make work unbearable, to push me out without having to officially let me go. They didn’t give me the tools or resources to complete tasks, ensuring I’d fail or struggle unnecessarily. I remember I was looking for a full battery to use the compact drill, but every battery I found was not charged. It was convenient for them, as the supervisor said, “You’re taking a long time on just one dasher. What’s the hold up?” Instead of recognizing that fault, he continued to place the blame on me. “Maybe if you put the batteries up when done. You wouldn’t have an issue.” Like as if it were my actions alone. When I am done with anything, I place tools or resources back where I found them or how I found them to begin with. A supervisor with leadership skills would do a walkthrough of the place prior to the shift ending to ensure all tools and resources are back where they belong. Rather than leaving immediately just to get home to pound a Dr. Pepper and smoke a cigarette or two. With a side of top ramen to go with it.  

The irony? Some of the same guys who had been there for six or seven years were still part-time and hadn’t moved up in any way. Meanwhile, in just two and a half years, I had worked every job in the building, gaining experience across the board. That alone should have spoken for itself, but instead of growth, I got roadblocks. I was once offered a tech job full time. I gave it some time but didn’t take interest in it due to wanting to be more involved in setup, strike, etc. It was an experience you were creating. So it was more meaningful to me. Once I turned the job down, that was when the quiet firing escalated. If the company did not want me to be a part of their crew. They should have fired me instead of making it more miserable for me. 

Lessons Learned

Working in this industry has been a mix of valuable experience and harsh reality checks. It’s shown me that hard work doesn’t always equal recognition, nor does it guarantee success anywhere; that politics can override performance, and that some workplaces will do everything in their power to keep the status quo—even if that means pushing out those who actually put in the effort.

But I also learned that I’m capable of more than I thought. I adapted, I worked through challenges, and I saw the ins and outs of how the entertainment industry operates behind the scenes. That experience alone is something I can take with me, whether I continue in this field or move on to something better.

To anyone getting into event production: Be prepared for the grind, but also be aware of the games people play. Some environments will lift you up, while others will try to hold you back. Recognize the difference, and don’t waste time where you’re not valued.

As for me? I’m taking what I’ve learned and moving forward—on my terms.