Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Last Minute

I've spent a good while already in this blog wittering on about how great it is that you don't know what job or audition is around the corner. So I really can't complain that not long after my last entry, I got a call inviting me to an audition. It was for a job that would pay very well for me doing very little work. So no, I really shouldn't complain. But I will. Y'see, auditions are great but you can guarantee that they will often occur at the very few times that you could do without them. When I signed off my last entry, I was all set to start my long weekend by doing a tiny bit of packing, getting an early night, doing a bit more packing in the morning, enjoying my last proper shower for a few days and then slowly carry all my stuff across London before setting off to the Isle of Wight. Nice little plan I think we'll all agree. However, this lovely scheme was scuppered by the actor's inability to say no. If someone calls you up asking you to audition for something then you say yes. You rarely listen to dates, times or pay, you just say yes and then worry about the consequences later. And you never listen to the requirements of the part. Ability to play the trumpet? Of course. While tap dancing? Not a problem. On Christmas Day? I'm on my way.

Admittedly, the consequences on Thursday were small. They just meant that I had a hurried morning and then had to trek into central London in a business suit whilst carrying most of my worldly possessions. Had I been going up for the role of a sweaty cart-horse then the part would've been mine the second I stumbled into their beautifully serene office. Sadly all the cart-horse parts were taken and I was up for the role of a businesswoman. Now I conduct very little business in my daily life but I'm fairly sure that they aren't known for looking like they've hiked throught the desert carrying their own body weight in waterproofs, wellies and toilet rolls. In heels. I try to avoid wearing heels wherever possible as they tend to make me look like some awful drag queen/newborn giraffe hybrid. As a look, it really isn't one that brings the casting directors to the yard. But I've seen those business-types around and they never seem to be flapping about in flip flops so 'The Heels' had to be fished out and crowbarred on. Add these to hardly warn pencil skirt and you've got yourself quite an awkward picture.

Thankfully the audition was wonderfully painless. Three years at drama school mean that I am well-equipped to stand still for 10 seconds, hold up a piece of paper with my name on and allow a photo of my profile to be taken. All those hours spent pretending to be a cow/tree/house/car/actor were well spent. After a minute of strenuous work, I was back to being probably the only person heading to Bestival in a suit. One day I will learn to say 'no.' Or business people will learn to work in pyjamas.

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