Tuesday, 6 March 2012

Photographic Evidence

I've gabbled on about advert auditions many, many times. They are fairly loathsome but they are a goldmine when it comes to the type of ridiculous occurences that I love to write about. And I'm pleased to say that today's casting was no exception. So put down your copy of Contacts, stop pretending that you're going to get any work done and sit back while I tell you a tale of intrigue, bums and old coffee cups...

I should start by saying that I'd started to get a little worried about advert castings. I had one on Friday that was so bloody lovely, I was left wondering what the catch was. Of course, it wasn't completely stress-free. I'd somehow managed to not eat beforehand so I found myself at midday with a very empty, rumbling tum. It was all going ok until the receptionist in the waiting room pulled out a burrito from his bag and from that moment until I was released back into the room, my stomach made sounds that can only be likened to a pneumatic drill left on in an earthquake. But everything else was perfect. So I worried that today's casting would go the same way and I'd be left with nothing to write about. But have no fear, the excruciating, hair-tearing, soul-battering world of acting did not disappoint.

I turned up for the casting a bit early and was surprised to see that I was actually the first person there. I was let into the studios and asked to fill out my form in the waiting room. However, it was only when I sat down that I realised I was sat in the midst of the production meeting before the casting where the main topic of conversation was just how many people they're seeing for so few roles. Oh brilliant. But I tried to keep my head held high as I depressingly wrote down my measurements. Just as I managed to get a slippery grip on my dignity, the receptionist decided that now was the perfect time to empty the two bins that were only 30cm from my feet. Coffee dregs, sandwich wrappers and an all matter of office debris spill out over the floor and cascade over my feet. Great. That's just what I need to get myself ready.

I'm finally whisked away where I'm asked to pose for a series of photographs. Finally, I felt like I was safe. But oh no. I'm told that my shots will essentially be test ones where they can test that the lighting is OK. Oh. Thanks. That should really help me get the job. And then, if I wasn't feeling uneasy enough, I'm then subjected to someone shouting 'ROLL UP YOUR SLEEVES' as they walk past me, not even stopping to make contact. I'm then asked to turn my back to the camera, bend over ever so slightly and put my hands on my bum. Were this not for a very well-known company then alarm bells would've been ringing out to the tune of the Crimewatch theme tune. I should also add that this was taking place at the bottom of a stairwell which all the other auditionees had to walk through to wait for their turn. I apologise to anyone who came down the stairs to be greeted by the sight of my bum.

I was then taken into a room where some further photos were taken (I'm pleased to announce that my bottom played no part in these) and I was then sent on my way with a contented smile on my face. But this was shortlived as it appeared that every actress in the world who looks even remotely like me was rounded up in the short time that I was away. I exited the room to be faced with what felt like a million slightly more attractive versions of myself. Thanks world. Thanks. Very. Much.

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