Yesterday we received a notice that a TV commercial will be filmed on our street. Tomorrow. So don't even think about parking on our street on Thursday.
Well, I'm generally just fine with the fact that Vancouver is a frequent movie set. Dressing Vancouver up as though it was somewhere else provides all kinds of "I see Vancouver moments" when we're watching movies or TV. Those downtown commutes that are disrupted by all the big white vans are a relatively small inconvenience, even though sometimes they are actually a six block, ten minute detour, with police cars, roadblocks and all the accoutrements of major security incidents.
I'm sure that the revenues from all this activity are a big boost to someone, especially, of course, all the people who work in the industry.
But less than 48 hours notice of the fact that access to our home will be seriously disrupted feels more like an imposition than a benefit.
Luckily for us, it won't be that much of an imposition. We have no plans for Thursday. But what if, say, we had been planning a wake for a deceased relative? Or a wedding reception party, planned months and months ago, where dozens and dozens of people driving here from everywhere were expecting to show up at our door, maybe dropping grandma off just in front of the house and parking elsewhere? Or maybe we were planning to move a lot of furniture? And, I have to say this, because ours is a narrow street, will there be room for an ambulance if one is called?
I hate to be grumpy. Really I do. Mine is actually a sunny disposition. But this notice presumes that we are doing nothing in our lives, that we simply wait at home desperately hoping for the opportunity to put our neighbourhood at someone else's service. At 48 hours notice.
One of my near neighbours is probably pretty happy, given the daily rates these companies pay to film in your living room.
For the rest of us, we get the chance to hope that someday we'll see ourselves on TV.
Am I saying all this should stop? No. But 48 hours notice is nothing short of arrogant and rude. And something more tangible than a notice left on our doorstep would make a big difference. How about, say, a nice plate of chocolate chip cookies? I can forgive almost anything if it comes with a nice place of chocolate chip cookies.