Sam Cadman: March or Die

I’ve come to realise production is a working universe that’ll accept anyone. Somehow, much like the French Foreign Legion, it’s managed to remain wonderfully unconcerned about where you’re from, what education you’ve had - if any, for that matter - or what you like to do in your spare time.

Indeed, it could be your first day out of prison, your first day sober, your first day as a woman and most commercial production companies wouldn’t care less. They’d be willing to give you a chance just so long as you’re on time and willing to make a lot of cups of tea.

I love this about our business. I once met a runner who was literally breaking and entering one day and taking his first steps on the commercial production ladder the next, without much more than a couple of quick texts.

“Hi Hatchet, Owie tells me you’re free to work tomorrow, is that right?”

“Yeah!”

“Great! Meet us at the office for a 5am departure and bring a coat as we’ll probably finish late”

No resumes, no background checks, no multiple interviews, it’s often that simple.

I remember getting my first call. I’d spent a day dropping off cards at the reception of every production company in Soho, letting them know I’d 'Run, Run, Run' if only they’d 'Ring, Ring, Ring', and sure enough, that evening I had my first, first-pencil.

“Pencil?”

“Yes, we’d like to first-pencil you for this Friday, is that ok?”

“Urm… Sure”.

I hung up without the faintest idea what a first-pencil was, but they sounded enthusiastic, especially when I mentioned I had a car, so I assumed this meant I was in. Which was good news, this being hot on the heels of probably the most awkward interview of my life.

Somehow I’d managed to get a meeting with John Hegarty – I can still remember the look of complete bewilderment on his face (as well as his very brightly-patterned socks) as he asked how I’d actually made it into his office. Clearly, an ad agency wasn’t going to be my home, whereas production might.

In fact at the time, I wanted to get inside a production company more than the Blue Note or Ministry of Sound. One of my best friends had already made it into RSA as a runner and an evening spent there in the mid-90s was heaven; free beers whilst looking at storyboards and rough edits, hearing talk of films and production, watching directors, producers and crew psyching themselves up to shoot or bringing themselves down to edit. It was like being inside some kind of Roman castra, a base camp on the edges of conventionality where loyal soldiers ventured out to do battle together.

This is something to be proud of, a corner of an industry that still offers a welcome home to those that have, for whatever reasons, baulked at the stability of regular office hours, run away from the reassurance of guaranteed work and fled from paid holidays that they know they can book months in advance.

Who knows what complicated and curious reasons are behind career decisions like these, but for many, many years I thought I was the only one who had made them and it’s only now that I’ve come to realise it’s the one trait we all share.