It was my first show, and I was a "runner" backstage [read: bitchwork] but I was all happy and excited to be involved in some way. Plus, the show was quite small, and there were perhaps 14-15 people in total involved on the show night, so it was nice and low key, a perfect start for easing into things.
We were putting on Roshomon and things were going fairly well, until intermission. The guy playing the wigmaker [let's call him Mr. Smith shall we?] ran backstage, and as I was the only left [that's what I get for not smoking] he strides towards me, his messy hair flying everywhere, reaches out and points a finger at me and shouts, "You!"
I wanted to die right then. I had no idea what was going on, but I just said, "Yes?"
"Staple my pants!"
Yes, he wanted me to staple... his... pants.
What had happened was that the stitching on the sides of his pants had come undone halfway through the first act, and he was holding them together until intermission. But, lacking the time or skill to re-sew his pants that fast, we had to improvise and use a stapler. He stripped down and threw the pants at me, and strode out for his own nicotine break sans pants.
I of course, grabbed the stapler, and stapled the side seams back together, so he wouldn't have to go onstage naked, although, frankly, I'm sure Mr. Smith would not have cared all that much.
It was still a fun show, but a very interesting way to be inducted into the mad mad world of backstage goings on.