It's Not the Rejection... Or Is It?

Going out for a job you really want, in my case an acting job, is a little like dating.

Two weeks ago this past Monday, I went on an audition for this off-Broadway play. It was kind of a throw-away audition, in that I was going because I had some spare time that afternoon, and I'd already had another audition that morning. I didn't know anything about the show and I wasn't sure if I was going to get in to the audition or not because I didn't even get there until nearly 3 p.m., but I figured I'd give it a shot and if I couldn't get in, I'd just go shopping or something instead. I mean, I was going to be right in Union Square and I had an hour to kill until my voice lesson, so I might at least window shop, right? But there was room on the appointment list so I put my name down. They were asking for a brief comedic contemporary monologue and despite the fact that a very-important-casting-director-whom-I-really-respect has told me that my comedic contemporary monologue is a piece of crap, I haven't found anything else I like better yet, so I was just going to do that. The monitor calls my name, I go in and introduce myself and trip and fall face first on the stage. I stand up, laughing, and ask them (the director and casting director) if they want me to stand on the stage or maybe fall over again. They laugh and tell me to stand center stage. I do my little monologue, they laugh during it, thank me and I leave. I don't even think about it again.

It's like the first date with someone your best friend set you up with. You don't really have any expectations. You aren't interested or disinterested. You're pretty much just looking forward to going home and curling up with your cat. "Did it go well?" your best friend is dying to know the next day. "Uh.....sure... yeah, it was fine..." you haven't really thought about it much. I mean, it was only dinner, right?

Two days later, the phone rings and it's a number you don't recognize. And it's him. The blind date. He wants to take you out again. And suddenly, perhaps just because someone is finally showing interest, you are jumping up and down on Oprah's couch, shrieking with excitement.

Tuesday afternoon, my phone rang. I'd just gotten home from two disheartening auditions. I was feeling sad and depressed and under-appreciated by the New York World of Theatre. "Hello?"
"Hello, Frost?"
"Yes?"
"This is Name-Changed from Name-Changed-For-Privacy-Purposes Casting. You auditioned for me yesterday -"

My heart literally leaps into my throat and I look over at Poompy, eyes wide, and start waving my hands frantically, gesturing for a pen or something to write with. I start mouthing "CASTING DIRECTOR" and he trips over his own feet trying to get me a pen.

"Anyway, we really loved you and we'd like to see you tomorrow for a call back. Can I email you the script?"

Deep breath - I'm hyperventilating at this point so I have got to take a deep breath before I start talking. 

"Sure! That'd be great!" I am impressed with myself for sounding so calm and relaxed. We exchange info. I check my email and The Script has arrived. I spend the rest of the afternoon reading the script and falling madly in love with it. I memorize my sides. I disect them. I study them. I work on them all night. I am perfect for this role. I am the only girl for this role. I have already been cast in this role because I am meant to play this role, I tell myself. I spend hours chanting, over and over to myself, every positive thing I can think of. Poompy gets up with me the next morning at 8 a.m. and helps me run lines, gives me notes, discusses character choices. He makes me coffee and breakfast, he walks me to the subway train. I'm a half hour early to the audition. I'm calm and collected. They call my name. I walk in. The minute the director sees me, his entire face lights up. I do my audition and I FUCKING NAIL IT. I AM AMAZING. The director hugs me afterwards. "YOU ARE SO WONDERFUL!" he gushes. The casting director, who up until that point has been totally blase, stands up to shake my hand. 

"Are you in NYC permanently?" He asks.
"Yes... of course. Why do you ask?"
"818" he replies.
"OH! Yeah, I haven't lived here long and haven't changed my number yet.* But I am definitely here permanently." I reply.
"Good," says the casting director who casts for BROADWAY, by the way, "Because you are really wonderful."

I leave the audition walking about four feet above ground. As blissful as a girl who's just been kissed by her dream guy on the second date.

For the next 24 hours I'm checking my phone compulsively. Every time it rings, my stomach turns over. Will he call? Will he call? Why hasn't he called? When's he gonna call? It went so well, he should call, damn it!

About 4 p.m. the next day he calls. "Frosty! Hi! It's Name-Changed... listen..... we'd like to see you again...."

I take down all the info, unbelievable because my hands are shaking so much. I call Poompy and it's all I can do not to start screaming. I'm at work so I have to keep it together. But if I was at home I'd be leaping around crying with joy.

I read the play three more times that weekend. I study the new sides. I memorize them. I work on other scenes from the play because I think it will help deepen my character. I research stuff I don't understand. I work my ass off. I feel, for the first time in over a year, like an Artist. 

The second call back is Monday. (A little over one week ago.) Poompy gets up with me again, we have the same sort of morning we had for the first call back. I'm superstitious so I want to try to duplicate the morning as much as possible. But I'm ready. I'm ready to nail it.

I show up, again half hour early, totally prepared, calm, thrilled. The guy that has been called back for the role of my brother actually looks like me. I am thinking this to myself when the woman whose been called back for the role of the maid says to us, "You two really look like brother and sister!" I so have this job.

They call my name. I walk in. The director's face lights up again. He introduces me to the writer who is also starring in the show, and the producers. We do the scene we did last time, I totally nail it, they are laughing in all the right places, I feel great. We do the new scene. I did it exactly the way I'd worked on it. I am feeling really good. When I finish.... nothing. They smile, thank me, that's it. Over. I leave.

That was nine days ago. No calls. Nothing. I thought they liked me? Is it because I didn't perfectly duplicate my morning ritual? Did I somehow sabatoge myself? Is it because I spent too much time working on the script as a whole, and not working on the actual scene? I had made some pretty strong character choices - maybe they didn't like the choices I made? But then, why didn't they ask me to do it a different way? Did they just decide to go with someone who has a "name"? Is it because I've never worked in NYC before? Did they think I looked too old? Couldn't they at least call me and tell me why I wasn't good enough?

It's like when the dream guy never calls again after the third date. And you spend days analyzing what it is you must've done wrong.

It'll happen one day. I found my dream guy, right? I'll get the job, too.

*I'm going to be changing my phone number, shortly after Sept. 7. I can't do it before Sept. 7 because... well.... WHAT IF THEY CALL???