19 02 2009

For the full effect of the title, sing the words in the style of Fiddler on the Roof’s “Tradition…Tradition!

Good morning, you beautiful humans,  you.  Zach here yet again, making a post before heading down to the North Carolina Comedy Arts Festival, where I’m performing in no less than 12 hours.  Eek, indeed.

Typically I’d be in class right now, learning about english or something-or-other.  But, the prof’s sick, so that leaves me with about 2.5 hours before my next class.

Bad news: It’s 2.5 hours.

Good news: It leaves me plenty of time to tell you about the audition I had this past Monday.

Friday I get a call from the talent agency I signed up with here in Richmond about two years ago.  This was the first time they had ever called.  Surprisingly, they wanted to send me to an audition for a viral video that a large credit card company was producing.  I won’t say the name of the company, for fear of litigation, but I will tell you that they ask you constantly what is in your wallet.

So I accept the audition, of course.  They tell me great, and send me the copy.  I open it up, and I’m reading for the role of “Large man”.  Now I’m okay with this, as I am un gran hombre.  So I look through the script, and apparently said Large man is supposed to enter wearing nothing but his undergarments, slippers, and a smile.  Then he makes a euphemistic poop joke, another joke about his skin being delicate, then vacates the scene.

I read it, and read it again.  “Alright,” I tell myself, “It’s not Shakespeare, but long as it pays.”

Monday rolls around, the day of the audition.  I get a little gussied up and head to the hotel where they’re doing the auditions for everyone.  Locating the room, I find that there’s only a couple of people there, all dressed smarter than me, and all looking very, very intense.

I approach one gentleman.  An Asian guy, taller than me, skinny, wearing a black button-down shirt, black slacks, a purple tie, and some very stylish glasses.  Smiling, I ask him if we’re supposed to wait out here in the hallway, or go in.  He scans me pretty noticeably, then says, in a very droll, hipster voice, “No.  We stay out here.”

Now I can handle the drollness, and I can handle the hipsterness.  But why in the world did he feel the need to look me over as if I’m competition for whatever role he was reading for?  I’m 5’7″, and a large, sexy hunk of a man.  He’s 5’11”, thin as a rail, and obviously up to date on whatever GQ is saying is fashionable these days.  Really doubt we’re up against each other, buddy.

In any case, I get called in.  Do the whole little how-do-you-do dance, get my slate taken, and we’re almost ready to begin.  Of course I do the thing that shouldn’t be done, and ask them how they want it read.  They tell me to just do I can with it.

So I do.  I do it twice, they thank me and send me on my merry way.  I thank them in return and head back out into the hallway.  The hipster dude’s still there, so being the friendly guy I am, I wish him a good audition.  He looks me over again, then just tilts his head up slightly in acknowledgment.

So thanks, hipster guy.  Thanks for reminding me why exactly I’m shifting away from the acting thing to focus on a teaching career and improvisation.  Hopefully I won’t deal with your type again.

Gah, actors.




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