Bad Photo Man

So I was on a very interesting photo shoot on the weekend. I say interesting like I speak with authority; it was my second modelling shoot ever. The first photographer I have ever worked with was lovely and complimentary and placid. She was respectful and humble unlike the douche bag I met this weekend. I am going to call him “Clive”. Clive was an older man compared to me; I was amongst a group of girls aged between thirteen and twenty four, me being one of the oldest. He was fat and unattractive, hence why he was on the other side of the camera. He interrupted everything the Art director had to say, even mentioning some of the AD’s gritty sex life to the entire group, embarrassing her to no end. He then began to call everyone a name based on their appearance, rattling the fragile egos of the girls by picking on their height and ethnicity. He got in my face at one stage, trying to adjust some of my make-up. He said how much he loved make-up, especially finding it on the pillow case in the morning after bringing home a beautiful young girl. I, at that moment, vomited a little bit into my mouth. After every photo he shot, he would turn to the crew and make a joke, wait for laughs, tell more of the joke which was highly offensive and inappropriate, which resulted in taking five minutes to perfect every shot. However, strangely, from what I could tell his photos were quite good. Yet he was unprofessional and disgusting; the two don’t make sense. Is this a reflection of the entire industry; the mind baffles me as to why I want so desperately to get into this industry when people like that are a part of it. Fingers crossed Clive is one of a kind. In fact I am sure he is.