You Have One New Voicemail

I get out there and hustle after a lot of my own auditions.  Sure, I've had representation, or at least the guise thereof, for a few years now with what was more or less my first agency in Los Angeles.  Over those years, the auditions dwindled in quality and in number, until it basically amounted to a cattle call in a blue moon.  We'd settled into a pattern of having very little contact with each other and zero excitement in our partnership.  So last July, I did what these little boots were made for, I walked.  (On a side note, I'm actually pretty amazed that I was the one who did the walking, considering I had taken one of those years completely off from doing anything to move in the direction of becoming a professional actor -- a piece of information I did not share with my agent.)

Now I'm still working on assembling my dream team, but last month I signed with another rep house (for the short term) and they sent me out on my first audition this week (more on that later).  But one commercial audition is not exactly momentum in a career.  So I'll say it again... I get out there and hustle after a lot of my own auditions.  Without the assistance of an agent, I've managed to get myself seen for just over thirty projects since June, not counting those bizarros I passed on.  It's a lot of work, but that's why we're the ones keeping 90% of the pay for each booked job instead of making a 10% commission.

But when you're auditioning for your own projects as much as I do... every phone call from a number that isn't saved in your phone book will make your heart race.  I stare down at that caller ID and I wonder if it's the casting director I've been waiting to hear from on this project or that.  Then I do what every normal person does when they are expecting a really important phone call... I let it go to voicemail.

I turn the ringer off, careful not to hit "ignore," because we all know that's what happens when you're calling and get sent to voicemail after one ring.  I stare at my blackberry screen, waiting for that little red light to start flashing, proudly proclaiming I have a new message.  My fingers shake as I dial my voicemail.  Thoughts of whether I've just booked my first national commercial shoot through my brain at light speed as I enter my password.  My annoyingly pleasant voicemail lady reminds me to review the old message that will be deleted soon.  I anxiously listen long enough to hit resave.

You have one new voicemail.  Yes!!  I would like to listen to it!!  What kind of a stupid question is that?  I press one...

Have you ever noticed how looooong it takes for the voicemail to list the date and time the message was left when you are desperately hoping it's that message you've been waiting for?  It's excruciating.  It's torture.  It's worse than being stuck on the 405 freeway during rush hour after you've downed a gallon of water at lunch and made the fatal decision to "wait till you get home" to take care of business.  It is living hell.

Finally, the message starts.... "Hi, this is Jane.  Just reminding you of your dentist appointment tomorrow.  We'll see you at 2:00 pm!"

I kind of hate Jane right now.  Sometimes the universe has a twisted sense of humor.