Small Talk

I read for this rather Big Shot Casting Director yesterday for this movie with an already attached talented young female star and a semi-attached cocky young (rather untalented in my opinion) male star. It was a tiny role, but super cute,  and I could’ve played it with my eyes closed while chopping onions and riding a unicycle. I got a flat tire the evening before and had woken at the crack-of-ass to get it fixed. Then went to the Ear, Nose and Throat doctor because I had inexplicably gone almost stone deaf.  My ears were so clogged I couldn’t even hear the lovely LA morning traffic. And finally, after the ENT had fumbled around in my ears with funny looking tiny instruments and magically restored my hearing, I frantically raced off to my audition. I was sitting in the waiting room, passing the time before my chance at bat, when the casting assistant started making small talk with me about Gossip Girl.

ASSISTANT: Do you watch it? Oh my God, I know I do. I like, totally didn’t the first season but then my roommate, JUST my roommate, we’re not like, friends or anything but we watch our Tivo together. Anyways, she said 'Shawna, we like, so have to get into this show, it is not ok that we have not been watching it.'  So then we like totally started watching it and now I’m addicted. Do you know if it’s the season finale tonight?

I told her I wasn’t sure and the conversation seemed to die there. A few awkward moments passed and a guy showed up who looked like he was about to shit himself and simultaneously vomit into the potted plant by the door. I always feel bad for those people. The ones you can tell are in a living hell they’re so nervous.  Auditioning for them is like going to a Seder for Hitler, they feel rather uncomfortable, slightly unwanted and almost certain they’re going to say the wrong thing.

Shawna, the assistant asked him if he needed the bathroom, yes was the obvious response and he ran away to vomit up his anxiety in the men’s room. Finally it was my turn and into the room I went and was greeted by a loud squeal from the Big Shot Casting Director.

B.S.C.D: Well those aren’t just the radest glasses I’ve ever seen!!!
ME: Oh thanks, my Dad gave them to me.
This is my stock response for when people compliment my glasses. I have no idea why because it’s neither true nor close to it. I bought them at Urban Outfitters for 10 bucks when I was taking my little sister to buy back to school clothes.
ME: They’re not heavy duty prescription.
I always say...
ME: I only wear them to watch movies and when my eyes are tired, you know...
They’re clear glass, but they make me feel smart.
B.S.C.D: Right right, like driving glasses.
ME: Exactly.
Awkward moment of silence…The big shot casting director looks to my resume, I’m sure searching for some conversational material other than my glasses. Oh, and look she found it..
B.S.C.D: Oh! You were in that fabulous pilot that didn’t get picked up.  I’m so sorry, what a bummer!

I knew this comment was going to be the bane of my existence for the next few weeks. That and having to break the bad news to people when they excitedly asked me “SOOO have you heard about the show?!!” with a HUGE smile plastered to their face. You would think that grin would be somewhat uplifting--but instead it just made me want to sock them. The big shot and I chatted about the show for a bit and how amazing everyone involved was. By the time we started the actual audition the Big Shot had succeeded in making me utterly depressed...

B.S.C.D: So should we give this thing it a shot?
ME: (utterly depressed about my life and my never to be seen pilot) Sure. I just have one question about the end. Is it kind of a cute more off the cuff thing, or is it more of a heartfelt moment?
B.S.C.D: Oh, um..yea. I mean, I don’t think it’s too off the cuff but, I also don’t think it needs to be super-duper sappy like, staring-into-each-others-eyes kind of moment or anything.
ME: Uh, right, ok. Got it.

Not only did I not get it but I think I was even more confused than I was before I asked the question. So, we did the scene. It was short. And she and her casting associate were doing that thing that casting directors do sometimes. They try to act. I know it comes from a good place, they believe they’re helping you by actually “acting” the scene but it’s always dreadful and normally it ends up with you fucking up the scene because you’re trying so hard not to laugh and or ask them what the fuck they’re doing. We finished the scene and the big shot says...

B.S.C.D: Okay, let’s do it again but this time do that last bit as if...it’s like you’ve been telling that story since you were fourteen.
ME: Oh okay, so it’s more kinda nonchalant, not a big deal?
B.S.C.D: No, no that’s not right, it shouldn’t be nonchalant, but it’s just like you’ve told this story a million times.
ME: Okay so I’m not that interested in it, it’s been done before kinda thing?
B.S.C.D: No, no that’s not it. Not nonchalant. Not anything like that, but you know what I mean.

She may as well have been speaking Russian.  Sometimes I wonder how people get to where they are in the world. We did the scene again. Seeing as I had no idea what the fuck she had been saying to me I’m pretty sure I did it exactly the same way that I had done it the first time. She thanked me, and I got out of that casting cave of insanity as fast as my legs would carry me.

As I walked back to my car feeling like utter shit I nearly got run over by a 300-pound, old woman who was going 40 out of the KFC drive-through. No time to wait for pedestrians.  She got her genetically modified chicken and she was off, places to go, people to see, I’m sure. I was just a spoke in her wheel. Who eats that shit at 11 in the morning anyways? I mean, really.  It was just another perfect end to another perfect audition. Yo ho, Yo ho an actresses life for me...