Moo

I got a call yesterday that a telecommunications company is holding a look-see audition, and would I be so kind as to attend? Since I have a pretty paltry acting resume at the moment, and can always use the money the gigs bring, I excused myself from my day job and headed over to the photography studio. It was pretty far west, so I had to take the train to a bus. A couple of other riders, it turned out, were headed to the same audition. I should have realized. Most people riding the CTA in the middle of the day don't bother looking too glammed up. When we got to the door, the four of us went inside to a proper cattle call.

Times past, I've gone to auditions and been pleased to find that the casting people grouped me among the "attractive, tall, full-head-of-hair, Caucasian males," which flatters me even as it assures me I have a snowball's chance in hell of getting the part. Face facts: I'm mostly a "comedic type" with a decent, if not 0.8% body fat, physique. They come taller, broader-shouldered, lots less gray. Whatever group they add me to, it's usually pretty narrow. For a photo call, I come in, fill out a card with availability, sizes (I'm never sure of "shirt"--medium? Do I need to know my arm lengths? Chest? Neck? Taper?), conflicts, get set up, flirt with the camera under bright lights and flashes, then go. This, by the way, makes me seem a lot more prolific than I am. This happens every couple of months at best. Acting for me is a part, part, part, part time job. I usually can get away with sneaking out on a lunch hour. Once, I went out while it was raining heavily and convinced my visiting boss that the massive
wetness staining the shoulders of my blue dresa shirt was part of the shirt's pattern, and that I hadn't gone anywhere. I got that part, perhaps due to sheer brazenness.

Today, though, the place is packed. People, pretty people of all stripes, ages and ethnicities, sit on every available horizontal surface. I don't know how I'll make it back to the office in time for
an early afternoon meeting, or the audition at my agent's offices afterwards. Really, this kind of logjam only happens once every couple of months. I'm happy that I was honest, this time at least.

My smiling headshot looks up at me, mocking, from my knee. I got a seat by default, in the same meritless way you get one on the CTA: someone got up right behind me. A slight awkwardness as he came back afterwards and asked for his coat, which I was slouching against. He held no grudges. In fact, seeing me type on my iPhone, he held out his own and said, "You should watch out for those soft cases. A friend of mine had one and dropped his phone, and his headphones stopped working." I pointed out that my silicone case helped me run with my phone. "Cool," he said. Neither of us were auditioning for AT&T. Potentially awkward? Only if they catch me!

Does it count as a white lie if you make money off it?