Not an Act
A fictional short-short story
I’m waiting for my turn. We actors wait a lot for our turn, even if we have a big part. Mainly we wait for the tech: lighting, sound, continuity, costume, whatever. And today’s wait — and it’s been 40 minutes already — is just for a commercial, a commercial for chips, no not computer chips, junk-food chips.
I got hooked on acting as a kid — yeah, the fun and the showing off, but mainly getting to stand out from the other kids — I got big parts starting in the after-school theater program and all the way through college (American Academy for Dramatic Arts), where one of my instructors said “You have The Gift.” That’s all the encouragement I needed.
So, I had a reservoir of optimism when I started going to the cattle calls. After waiting, stewing, — one time for two hours! “#403.” Two minutes of giving it all, with auditors in the dark at the back of the auditorium, and usually I get a flat “Thank you.” And then I’m usually ghosted, not even the dignity of a rejection. So I hang on, against the odds thinking, “Well, maybe they need more time. Maybe they offered it to someone else but they turned it down, so maybe…” Rarely.
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Yeah, waiting. That’s what we mainly do: for the right audition to come up, waiting in the hall for our number so we can pour out our souls for 90 seconds, then waiting to hear, and if cast, waiting for your turn. And all of that while having to always be oh-so-nice: friendly to the cold auditors, not obsequious but ad-libbing with a bit of humor, then if cast, supportive to even self-absorbed actors. And you cannot complain. With a horde of talented wannabes in the wings eager for you to fuck up, you can only rarely ask for something and it better be small, like a change of blocking, lest you be viewed as high maintenance. That would cripple your future — Word gets around fast in the incestuous bubble of directors that pay scale.
I’ve gotten just enough positive reinforcement to keep me in LA — two medium roles in a regional theater, one small role in the national touring company of Cats, and commercials like this one.
Before the break, the director showed me what he wants: “Punch up the ‘Grab a NACHO BLAST because regular crunch is for cowards.’ See?!” That’s what I’ve given up 20 years, all the student loans plus serious money for one-on-one coaching: Meisner method, stage combat, even tap dancing — for the Cats audition. At least that got me into the chorus.
I’m too old to change — At 40?! But if I were starting over, should I have been a fundraiser? I’d still be acting but with better pay and benefits.
Excuse me, the director just called, “Places.”
I read this aloud on YouTube.
Marty Nemko is a career and personal coach, and author of 36 books including Starving Artists. You can reach him at mnemko@gmail.com
