Writer-Performer: Rhona Ashwood
Here’s a little solo show that’s already blown through the status of being a ‘hidden gem’ in this year’s Fringe, garnering some well-deserved attention for its writer-performer, Rhona Ashwood. She looks the part, in an uncomfortable front-of-house uniform, complete with tie. And she keeps things simple, standing before us with her tray of ice creams. This is the interval at the theatre, after all; that’s the show. The minimalism of this is a great strength. It can be illuminating and fun when someone highlights one of those small pockets of space and time that we all experience, but tend to shrug off as insignificant.
We’re told repeatedly there’s a choice of strawberry, chocolate and vanilla, but this doesn’t prevent a customer from asking for salted caramel – and then the request perplexingly and hilariously takes on a life of its own. This is just one of many astute observations of petty frustrations that ring absolutely true. If you’ve ever worked in a stressful and unrewarding ‘customer-facing’ job, you’ll recognise the general idiocy our intrepid host has to contend with.
All the usual suspects are here, from the out-of-control children to the imperious finger-snapper, to the greedy customer who complains simply because they’ve finished their ice cream. It’s all a bit much to deal with, the time constraint of the interval making things especially intense. Matters are not helped by unsympathetic bosses spouting management-speak, or people you’re trying to help finding fault with everything. The implied vignettes, and responses to them, are extremely funny. The spoon is very much in the lid.
Rhona Ashwood conjures the frantic, popcorn-strewn milieu perfectly. At one point in the performance I saw, someone’s phone went off and she was ready with her usher’s torch, peering at the culprit – a superb touch.
For all the laughs, she also reveals the person, the human being, trapped behind the tray, who is regarded as little more than a functionary by many of the punters in her queue. She encourages us to question whether it’s appropriate to have to self-censor and continually negate your own needs and feelings in the face of other people’s increasingly bad behaviour. This is a welcome antidote to all the uninspired customer service training you may have been obliged to attend, or to absorb online. A great script and a sparky, memorable performance.
Runs until 17 August 2024 | Image: Contributed
