Another Flippin' Commercial Audition

It's old news that I hate commercial auditions. I want to cry after most of them. I get nervous before a commercial audition -- not the good, healthy nervousness that provides an extra jolt of energy and sparkle; more like the bad nervousness that makes my mouth go dry and my cheek muscles shake with effort when I smile big about the product. Ugh. I probably look like I have some sort of nervous facial tic in most auditions.

I found out about today's audition at 4:00 PM yesterday. I already had plans to attend book club out in the suburbs this morning, which I very much looked forward to attending. Then I got four emails and three phone calls yesterday afternoon for this audition. If you are alive, you are expected to attend auditions. There are no excused absences for illness, bad hair day or previous plans. You MUST go. So I only got to stay at book club for an hour before making the forty-five minute drive downtown to my audition.

The audition was for a home decor supply store. The scene is a mother and twenty-something daughter shopping for home decor supplies and then telling all their acquaintances how great the service, selection and prices are at the store. I was supposed to be reading for the twenty-something daughter, and memorized the lines for that part. When I arrived at the audition, the casting lady walked in and said, "you're the mom". What the frak?! I know that I'm actually in my mid-thirties, but on a good day I pass for late-twenties. There's no way I look fifty. So I smile and nod (while trying not to cry) and memorize the Mom's lines quickly. I try to roll with the punches -- emotional punches delivered straight to my insecurities.

I walk into the audition room. The client, who happens to be a man, says twice that I should read for the daughter, not the mom. The client-man says I look like I'm in my twenties and there's no way I should be the mom. The casting lady does not like this, and says I look middle-aged and that I could only be the daughter if they go with a much older actress for the mom. Twice. She says this twice. The client-man then says AGAIN that I look young. Thank you, client-man, really.

So I do an okay audition and remember the lines even though they've switched up my parts twice. I smile. I take a note on delivery of one of the lines from the client-man and do it again. Then it happened, right at the end of the second take, my cheek muscles shook a bit from smiling so long and so big combined with utter nervousness and humiliation.

Fail.