The Keychain Continuum.

Years ago in graduate school, I was assigned to stage manage a production of Into the Woods, directed by a guest director from London who was invited by the University for its artist-in-residence program. At that time I was already a working professional and had dealt with several challenging directors. During the first read-through, this director greeted the actors and staff with the declaration, "I hate stage managers." My two young assistant stage managers were apprehensive, but I understood the situation and the reason behind it. It wasn't personal; it was the director's insecurity about his ability to manage the production, and who truly holds the power when it counts.

Stage management is a curious profession. Throughout the development, rehearsal, and staging of a show, the stage manager receives input from nearly everyone: the director, lighting, wardrobe, set designers, producers, and even the actors. In the hierarchy of things, the stage manager fits squarely into a middle management role. However, once the performance begins, the stage manager becomes the most crucial person in the theater. They oversee the show from the moment the curtain rises to when it falls. No one would dare interrupt or question them during the show. The graph below illustrates the dynamic of the stage manager's influence over the run of a production:

Max Weber was the foundational sociologist that first understood the difference between power and authority as central concepts in understanding social relationships. Power, according to Weber, is the ability of an individual or group to impose their will upon others. It can be exercised in various contexts, from personal relationships to political institutions, and often hinges on the resources or strength one has to dominate others. In contrast, Weber defines authority as that which is perceived as legitimate and accepted by those subjected to it. He identified three distinct forms of authority: traditional (based on long-standing customs, such as monarchy), charismatic (rooted in the qualities or vision of a leader), and legal-rational (derived from formal rules and laws, as in bureaucracies).

In the example above, the power that the stage manager has is of the "moment in time" variety. If we apply Weber's theory to a typical non profit arts organization, we can see how power is distributed within the hierarchy of an organization. One way to express this dynamic is by examining the phenomenon of the Keychain Continuum (never mind the electronic access pass--this is only a metaphor, after all.)

The Keychain Continuum states that the number of keys that an employee has on their keychain correlates with the level of informal power they have within an organization. Keys represent access--more keys means greater access to areas that are off limits to others. In contrast, authority is conferred on an individual by virtue of their position within an organization, and the power granted to them is more formal and accepted. A graph of power vs. authority might look like this:

Rank and file staff have a degree of power and authority that generally aligns, and this remains consistent as you move up the organizational chart. However, when you get to the building engineer, power diverges sharply from authority. Engineers have access to nearly every space, and they have necessary skills that others rely on to keep the building functioning. This is also true for custodians, porters, ushers, stagehands, and other line workers, where they might have very little authority but a great deal of power to impact an organization's success. Power of this nature is implied rather than conferred. The notable exception is when workers are unionized; the core purpose of collective bargaining is to formalize and leverage the power that employees already have.

As we move along the Keychain Continuum to include upper management, the dynamic between power and authority shifts once more, but in the opposite direction. Executives possess more authority than direct power, relying on vision, leadership, and other intangible values to shape outcomes. Finally, the chairman of the board holds the highest authority, and yet they don't have any keys at all because they don't need them-- someone will always be available to open the door for them. And yet, despite having fiduciary responsibility for the entire institution, the chairman must depend largely on the staff to fulfill the organization's mission.

Into the Woods has a lot going on; the musical weaves several classic Grimm's fairy tales to explore the consequences of wishes and choices. Act I concludes with Cinderella, Jack, Little Red Riding Hood, and Rapunzel seemingly getting their "happily ever after." Act II reveals the unintended consequences of their actions, as a powerful Giantess threatens the kingdom. The characters band together to defeat the Giantess, but not without forcing the characters to confront loss, responsibility, and moral uncertainty.

Perhaps knowing that I was already an experienced stage manager, our director, steeped in insecurity, threw everything including the kitchen sink at me and my little team of stage managers. My sense was that he was doing his best to test our abilities against his authority, not to teach us anything. We knew our stuff however, and on more than one occasion I successfully argued with the director that this cue or that prop would not work in the production. Despite his apoplectic attitude, he was ultimately forced to concede. He had the authority, but I had the experience and the power to make it happen--or not. I got a B in the course.

All of this is to remind you of the common-sense advice that when interviewing for a job, you should do your best not to upset the receptionist. Although they aren't responsible for hiring, the impression you leave on them will undoubtedly influence the outcome.