The
company responded to my email request by simply stating that auditions were
between 2 and 6 on a Saturday. No specific time, which slightly bugged me.
Whatever.
I recall
the place when I show up. It used to be a speakeasy in the 20s, but when I visited
it half a decade ago it was an antique mart. It’s been reinvented as a
speakeasy again.
The guy
at the check-in desk asks me to pick a time slot on a piece of paper to
audition in. I pick the soonest available time.
I don’t
recognize any of the handful of other actors waiting there. But that’s because
most of them – according to the conversations I’m overhearing – are recent
transplants to the city. This depresses me for a few microseconds for some
reason.
I go in
and do my “Candid” monologue for two women. They chuckle a bit. As I’m leaving
one of them asks if I had a preference for the movies they are doing (The
Princess Bride or Christmas Vacation). I tell her “Either/or.”
Ten days
later, I got the “No thanks” email.
