Opportunists Knock Often

I hate, hate, hate it when I reveal to people (actors and non-actors alike) that I get paid to perform in dinner theater shows, and their first response is to tell me they want a piece of the action.

The conversation goes like this for actors:

Actor-acquaintance: You get paid for the dinner theater?

Me: Yes. Dinner theater shows can be fun, but the audiences are not typically your usual theater patrons. They can sometimes be a tough crowd, and it takes a lot of energy to keep their attention. Plus it's not high-art. So I probably wouldn't do these shows for free.

Actor-acquaintance: I'd love to get paid for theater work. When are the next auditions?

Me: We already have a close-knit group of performers involved. The last time we cast a new actor was when one of our longtime actors died. But I'll totally pass along your photo and résumé to the director. Maybe someone else from my close-knit group will kick the bucket in an untimely manner.

The conversation goes like this for non-actors:

Non-actor-acquaintance: You get paid for those skits?

Me: Yes. It's not volunteer work. I don't do it for my health.

Non-actor-acquaintance: I was a tree in my third-grade class school play. I could make some extra money doing skits.

Me: That sounds great. I'll just need your 8x10 actor photos and your acting résumé to pass along to the director for the next round of auditions. You have monologues ready, right? Oh, and who is your talent agent?



I think I've made my point.

Not Smiling? Just Buy It!

I've been on two commercial auditions over the past few months. The first was an audition for home equity loans from a certain credit union. I had to wear shorts and a tank top to the audition because, if cast I would need to wear a swimsuit with a modest cover-up. At the audition, it was clear that the casting people wanted to check out our bods without sending us to the pole on the center stage. I didn't own any shorts other than workout shorts, because I usually wear a skirt or a dress if it's too hot for pants. Also, I'm not ten-years-old at summer camp. Thank goodness I found some cute, dressy shorts for cheap at Target. I do love me some Target.

The audition went well. The other actress I auditioned with thanked me for being so nice. Are other actors not nice at auditions? It's like a job interview. One should be on their best behavior. Few of us want to cast or hire someone nasty, petty or diva-like in their behavior.

I also met a casting director there who complimented my audition. Though I did not get the part, I got some good audition practice and made valuable connections.

My second commercial audition was for a car dealership. Naturally, I won't reveal which dealership, or what brand of cars they sell other than to admit that I would NEVER buy any of these vehicles. I practiced for the audition the night before in front of the mirror. I made sure to gesture at the car so that my arm muscles looked all flexed and defined. I practiced talking super-fast and enunciating while smiling the whole time, the way that all good automobile spokespeople should. After my audition, the owner of the dealership said he loved my "look" and my vocal delivery. Then the advertising agency lady made a sour face and proclaimed that she didn't see me smile once during my audition. I totally smiled! I did not get the part. It's not just sour-grapes when I say I'm glad I didn't get it, because I don't like the product or the sour-faced advertising agency lady. It would not be a fun job to have.

I joked with a friend later about the car commercial audition and the not smiling enough verdict. I recited the commercial script in a stony-faced, deadpan delivery and punctuated the ad copy with, "so come on down and buy an effing car. Then take me somewhere in your new car. Like to dinner or something." My friend laughed and said she thinks I greatly improved upon the ad copy.