Dreams vs Bills

A few weeks back I blogged about The Fear. The Fear generally creeps up on you, or sometimes runs at you at quite an alarming rate, and makes itself known when someone asks you:

“Oh, so you’re an actor? What work have you got coming up?”

And you have nothing. Not a job, not an interested agent, not even a ridiculous sounding casting call to attend. The Fear makes you feel physically sick when you realise what little work you've got coming up.

Yesterday, with a real need to stop paying bills with savings, I found myself attending an interview for a call centre job. Now I have nothing against call centre work, in fact it’s been a damn good friend to me during leaner times. And I certainly don’t wish to demean call centre work because despite how mind-numbing it is, in fact because of how mind-numbing it is, it’s some of the most challenging work out there. Constant rejection, miserable conditions and exceedingly low pay…I can’t possibly imagine why actors are drawn to such jobs…

So, yesterday I headed to a dingy little office and was interviewed to check that I was eligible to speak to people on a phone. After far too many questions that began with “Give me an example,” I was told that I needed to be aware that I was “up against some very strong competition” for the various vacancies they had available.  I then watched the interviewer hover their pen over the 5/5 mark they’d given for one of my responses, change it to a 4, change it to a 5 again and then frantically scribbled out the 5. 

For God’s sake. I once spent an hour on the phone helping Paul McCartney’s PA put an order through for Christmas labels.  I deserve better than this.

I was then reminded again that competition was exceedingly high and I realised I was basically being told that I wasn’t suitable to pick up a phone and harass people. This is news that should leave me frikkin’ delighted. If only my landlord saw it the same way.

I left being told that they’d let me know in a week whether I was deemed worthy to willingly put on a headset and call people at quite impressively inappropriate times (yes, I once managed to call for someone on the morning of their very own funeral.) So that’s some exciting news to look forward to this week.

I’m not sure whether this little tale says more about the current job market or my career prospects. Actors have always been near the bottom of the food chain but now people are being forced into taking second, third and even fourth jobs, we’re being pushed so far down that we’re now amongst the ants and plankton. And the problem with actors is that we need a job that allows us to juggle paying bills with chasing the kind of dreams that many would consider nightmares. It’s really no surprise that many end up having to abandon all their hard work just to keep their head above water. As romantic as hopes are, real life does sometimes have an incredible knack of getting in the way. And often the 'resting' jobs we get are so poorly paid that the amount of hours we need to do to stay solvent means acting is lucky if briefly passes us in the hallway once a week. 

Basically, what we’re seeing here is the rapidly increasing chance of me becoming a chugger. Place your bets now on how long it takes…  

Paying the Price

The first Monday back after the No Man’s Land of Christmas and New Year is an exciting time for actors. Pantos are grinding to a halt and Santa’s Grottos are shutting up for another year so it’s time to start thinking about finding some good ol’ acting work.

As 9am…Ok, 9:30am…fine, 10am…oh for heck’s sake, MIDDAY hits, we all sit in our clean pair of pyjamas, logging into the casting sites that we’ve given our hard-earned cash to, in the hope that we’ll find that one job that will mean 2014 is our year.

So you can imagine my dismay when, fired up with the expectation of getting work that will definitely put me in all the ‘Ones to Watch in 2015’ articles, I find that there’s an awful amount of unpaid jobs. And when I say awful, I mean ‘actors first role out of drama school’ awful. So awful in fact that, by the end of the day, just one casting site had listed a meagre 37 paid roles and a rather staggering 293 unpaid roles. And that was just the jobs that had been listed that day.

It’s a terrifying statistic. It means that for every 1 actor that can maybe breathe a little easier for a month, there are another 8 actors desperately panicking and hounding their temp agency for more work just so they can afford to live in the damp-ridden, mouse-invaded shack that they call ‘home.’

Since I’ve started blogging, I’ve been very passionate about making sure people see the other side of the industry. I want people to see the side that isn’t represented in Sunday supplements where actors are interviewed in quaint little cafes during a few snatched moments between that 5-star run at the National and that feature film that the director demanded that they were in. For most actors, this industry is that friend who only gets in touch after they’ve contacted everyone else they’ve ever met. At its best it’s fickle and at its worst you wish you’d never met it.

So to see such a staggering amount of unpaid work is a worry. It means that acting work is the work you do in between your other job when really you wish it could be the other way round. I’ve written so many blogs on unpaid work that to write about it again would be pointless. It’s the sad fact of this industry that sits in a musty box along with sexism, racism, ageism and people who think it’s OK to not provide lunch on a shoot.

There’s nothing more frustrating than not being able to make a living from what you want to do with your life. And it’s something a lot of actors will be coming to terms with at the moment while they sit, filing their last minute tax returns and realising just how little they’ve earned from such a wonderful job. Last year I earned £510 from acting work. That’s not even a month’s rent.

So why do we still do it? Why do we insist on supporting an industry that really doesn’t seem that bothered about us? Well it’s that little skip it puts in our step when we know we nailed that audition. It’s that little dance we do around the room when we get the call to say we got the job and we realise there’s no one else in the house to celebrate with. It’s that glow you get when you’re walking home after opening night, cheeks flushed with pride and three too many glasses of wine. It’s knowing that even though you dread being asked what you do for a living, you’re pleased you don’t have to answer them with any other job in the world.

It’s being able to sit at home in your pyjamas at 11am on a Wednesday and calling it work.

National Minimum Rage

As sure as night follows day, unpaid work will always hang around actors. It's part of the job. At drama school you're always taught to have a monologue ready and have a headshot that supposedly resembles you at any given moment despite the fact that you spent 3 weeks barely eating and 8 hours on hair and make up. However, what they don't teach you is how to not tear your soul on the walls after seeing yet another casting call that offers sandwiches, tea but no money.

So, seeing the news this week that five actors had won an employment tribunal to be paid national minimum wage should've had me dancing around in my practice skirt. But it didn't. I mean, for maybe one minute, I cheered quietly. Hearing that actors are being paid is always good news. The world likes to think that we live off thin air and slices of pizza so cheap and doughy, you could use them to plug the gaping holes in your tragic CV but we need money too. It may seem a tad unfair but the world works the same for actors as it does for everyone else and we have bills to pay and food to eat.

I want actors to be paid properly. I want to think that I can do a job I can actually make a living from rather than feeling that I'm trying to make a career out of a hobby. Saying you're an actor should make you feel as awesome as the kid who says they want to be a dinosaur when they grow up. But, most of the time, it makes you feel as ridiculous as the kid who says they're going to be a dinosaur when they grow up. But, because there's actually very little legislation in the world of acting (yes, there's some but it's sadly not as a far-reaching as I'd like it to be) anyone with a camera phone and a vague idea can cast a film and, because there are more actors than there are half used jars of oregano in my cupboard, there will always be actors happy to work for free.

I could waffle on for hours about whether actors should work for nothing but hey, we've all got damp-ridden homes to go to. But, what is important is to look at the implications of this ruling. Yes, it means that more actors might get paid in the future and that's a great thing but it could also mean that theatre companies will have to charge insane amounts for tickets to make sure they can pay everyone. Maybe productions shouldn't be put on if there isn't money to pay people but, if actors have a problem with working for free then they shouldn't apply for profit-share work. I've done profit-share before in the past and there's always the chance that you'll come away with nothing. Or, you put your heart and soul into a show for three months and come away with £30. It hurts but if you've agreed to it already then it's really up to you to deal with it.

If companies decide not to put on productions because they don't have the money then there will be even less work for actors than there is now. So, if they do put on shows they'll have to charge so much for tickets that audience figures will drop and actors, although finally able to pay their rent, will be playing to half-filled rooms that only contain the cast's parents. Every theatre company will then be forced to seek assistance from bigger companies a la Spacey and American Airlines and you won't be able to see anything without a corporate logo beaming down at you and you're director appearing in yet another TV advert.

But, on the other hand, maybe we'll live in a world where actors are guaranteed national minimum wage and we can have a shred of dignity back. It might make the few unscrupulous companies out there who think actors and crew don't need paying that maybe some of the money should be shared around a bit. And that'd be nice, wouldn't it?

Network Fail

It's very normal to see a casting that only promises food and travel to actors. However angry it makes me, I'm used to seeing it now. So, last night, while taking one final look at castings before retiring for the day, I wasn't expecting to see anything particularly out of the ordinary. Maybe a few mentions of bikini-clad zombies who turn to a life of prostitution but nothing more. So imagine my surprise when I see a corporate casting that isn't offering any pay. That's quite a thing in itself because corporate work is one of the few strands of acting that can actually pay your bills but it happens very ocassionally for smaller companies. But this wasn't just your local start-up business. Oh no. This is the company that you probably complain about on a daily basis. This is the company that's responsible for making you late and meaning you spend your commute pushed up against a pain of glass. This little company is Network Rail.

Network Rail appear to be producing an internal film and they're in need of ten extras to help them out with this. Fair enough. But for your efforts, this company which made a profit of £754 MILLION last year, is only offering to give you food and cover your travel expenses. And I'm not sure, given their track (gettit? Track? Y'know, like rail track? Oh forget it...) record, they would even get food and travel right. An over-priced stale sandwich and infuriatingly late trains, anyone? And don't even get me started on their depressingly limited choice of crisps...

So what the heck is going on here? Why can't a company that made more money in a year than I'll see in a zillion lifetimes not even offer a minimal payment to their extras? Ten extras at a £100 each for a day's work. That would cost them £1000, about the same amount they make from one very small person purchasing the opportunity to possibly get a seat on the 10.04 from London Paddington to Reading. Even if they paid each extra £1000, that'd mean them begrudgingly handing over 0.001% of their eye-wateringly huge pile of money. But no, instead of paying actors (who make up a huge proportion of their customers anyway) they choose to smugly sit on their pennies and watch on in the hope that yet again, they'll find a few performers willing to pimp themselves out as a very unglorified slave.

Network Rail's ethos is the following:

‘We are passionate about what we do and take pride in a job well done’ 

Apparently it seems that their primary passions are keeping their grubby hands on their profits and exploiting actors for their own personal gain. Apparently a job well done means that Sir David Higgins, the Chief Executive of National Rail, protects his £560,000 a year salary by denying actors the right to even receiving the National Minimum Wage when working for them.

But the worst thing about all of this? The fact that this situation is becoming all too familiar. Actors have now gone for so many years where they've allowed companies to take advantage of them that it has now become the norm rather than the exception. Equity now know about this and I seriously hope they take action otherwise these money-grabbing, exploitative companies will destroy that final scrap of dignity that the world of acting is still desperately clutching on to.

Bare Essentials

I've spoken before about turning down work. It's something that when I first started out, I never thought I'd find myself doing. There was a time when I'd do pretty much any job for anyone who dared offer me one, regardless of whether they felt it necessary to reward me with food, money, warmth or all of the above. However, I've recently started noticing that I'm becoming a bit more picky about these things and I can only presume that this is a good thing. The amount of unpaid work I now do is down to an absolute minimum and if a job involves something that I'm just not comfortable with, I'm now comfortable enough with myself to say thanks but no thanks.

This morning, for example. I woke up to find someone that I'd never met or contacted was offering me a job. Although they had next to no budget, they were offering a very small payment and were able to cover expenses. Because my bank account is currently full of cobwebs and a few bits of loose change rattling around, I decided that it would be worth doing. It would keep me in crisps for another week and I figure if I'm trapped on a film set then I can't be out frittering away my last few pennies on a Mars bar. I had a quick look at the first couple of pages of the script and as it all seemed OK, I stupidly replied to say I was interested but would like to know which character they wanted me to play. "But why do you say that was stupid?" I hear you cry. Well, I'll tell you why. I didn't bother to read the whole damn script. Had I read on I'd have soon seen the word 'touch.' I'd have then seen the word 'thigh' a bit later on. Finally we have 'hands gliding' and it all starts to make sense. Because very soon after I'd initally stopped reading, the film very quickly descends into porn. But this isn't just porn, it's lady porn. And while I don't particularly have a problem with the world seeing my bits or getting entangled with another female for my art, I do have a problem when I'm being paid 83p an hour (I worked it out and that's honestly what I'd be getting.) Plus, with such a limited budget, it's fairly certain that it would be shot pretty poorly and no one wants to see my badly lit post-Christmas padding flailing around on some poor person's bed.

The world of film has been subjected to my lady parts before and although it was shot within the relative safely of drama school, it was still an horrific experience. It was the very first scene of the film that was shot and I found myself in a ground floor, street facing, tiny hotel room with my co-star and crew members, all of which were men. The curtains had to be partially open so that the light could get through so I apologise now to anyone who was driving through west London in 2005. The first couple of shots were about as traumatic as when they made Strawbery Ribena toothkind, but by the end I was happily taking notes from the director with everything on display. But of course, this was back in 2005 when I was 22 and we all looked a lot better back then. Despite the poor lighting and general lack of photographic talent, I still looked OK but six years on with no daily dance and movement classes to keep me trim, it's a very different story.

They still haven't responded to my initial question so, technically, I'm still doing this job. Best pull those lettuce leaves out from the back of the fridge just in case...

Temporary Measures

Today I sold my soul to the devil. Today I dragged myself out of bed at an ungodly hour (it was so early that I had to set an alarm) and hauled my tea and sleep deprived body into 'town.' Dressed all smart like, I got to spend an hour this morning pretending to be just like everyone else who actually does a proper job for a living. Like the dullest undercover spy that there ever was, I sat with my book on the bus and looked exactly like all the other people who get paid to do things. I bet they all thought I was going off to do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay but like the amazing secret agent that I am, I wasn't. I was going to sign up to a temping agency.

After nearly two months of living in denial, existing on the scraps of currency that were found in my bank/purse/sofa, I finally had to face up to the fact that I will need to work if I want to continue living off more than thin air. So off I went ready to sign my life away to the world of work while I pointlessly explained to some unsympathetic being about how I really want to make a career out of hanging around theatres and film sets. But how wrong I was. I was instead faced with a lovely person who totally understood what I wanted (apparently I'm not the first and only person in the world who wants both money and their dream job) and they'll let me earn some cash when I'm not prancing off to auditions, actually doing some acting work or in desperate need of a lie-in.

But don't worry. just because Miss L has now entered the corporate world, this doesn't mean that clumsiness and stupidity don't rule the day. I managed to stand by the front door to the office for nearly five minutes, buzzing up to reception because the door didn't open. It's only when someone else walked straight in that I realised both my feeble arms and inability to complete simple tasks were in charge yet again. I also managed to knock the numerous forms that I was supposed to fill out from the hands of the receptionist and sent them cascading across the office floor. I think you'll agree that I set quite the professional imperssion when I enter a room. However, I'm pretty sure that I aced the spelling test (it's spelt 'compewtur' right?) and I managed to continue with the typing test when I realised that I was typing up a piece about how insecure the job market is and how you need to ensure that you're doing something that you love. As texts go, I'm fairly sure this isn't the most inspiring to have when you're sat in a very artificially lit, cramped room typing away to get money because the job you really want won't give you a penny.

So now I've doubled my disappointment when my phone doesn't ring. Now there will be days when even more people realise they don't require my services and even more industries decide they'd rather have nothing to do with me. Or maybe it'll be the other way round and I'll find that everyone discovers that they all need a piece of Miss L. I'll be so in demand that I'll top the 'Most Wanted' charts. Maybe.

Check back tomorrow for a guaranteed entry inspired by neediness, desperation and an empty purse.

Basic Needs

Another day, another blog about actors rarely getting paid to work. I didn't plan on writing another entry, whining on about how hard done by we are but I saw an advert for an acting job yesterday and it brought a few poorly funded memories back.

The advert was for a film. Unless you are ridiculously lucky, films publicly advertising roles will never come with a pay packet. They're usually made by students, a new film company or just a group of people with time on their hands and hope that there are others out there happy to go along with their whimsical ways. This particular film fits very firmly in the last category. Normally I wouldn't have a problem with these sorts of casting calls, everyone has to start somewhere and while people are happy to work for nothing, why not put it out there. But what really annoyed me was that in the 'salary' section they had put:

'We will keep you warm and fed.'

Since when did two of the most basic human needs count as a 'salary.' Does this mean that I can now pay my bills with a blanket and a bowl of soup? Sadly not. And I'm guessing I can't get the bayliffs to go away with a fleece and a macaroni cheese either? As I said, I have no real problem with unpaid work. In an ideal world it wouldn't exist and I do sometimes wonder if the full funding can't be found to ensure that all cast and crew are paid fairly whether the project should still go ahead. It's a debate that could go on for days and I don't have the time or inclination to start that up on a Saturday afternoon when I should really be concentrating more on how I'm going to fund myself and my crisp addiction.

I've done some excellent projects which were unpaid. I think you have to weight up the pros and cons and as long as you're not going to make yourself bankrupt over it then they're often worth doing. I've been in some lovely films and have been ridiculously well looked after. One shoot I did, the producer had been up since 4.30am cooking and baking to ensure that all involved had the most incredible food to munch on throughout the day. On another shoot, the make up girl snuck out when she saw everyone was getting a bit tired and stressed and returned with a bag full of beer and a towering pile of pizzas. Add these lovely little touches to the fact that these shoots can provide you with excellent experience and it can all seem a bit more worthwhile.

On the flip side (there's always a flip side) I've also experienced some bloody poor treatment. I did a shoot not long after I'd graduated for a group of students wanting to make a film for their film society during the summer holidays. It was an interesting script (although my character was mute) and it was filmed near where my parents lived so I was happy to do it. The shoot was a complete shambles with filming usually starting around 4 or 5 hours later than we had been called. One evening especially stands out in my mind where we had to do a night shoot by a canal. Although it was during the summer, it had been raining nearly all day and by 2am, it was damn cold down there. I had to look like I'd been beaten to death so was covered in make up which meant I wasn't allowed to wear a jacket. Apparently smudged bruises just don't cut it. I also had to be barefoot so, couple this with me being in a vest and skirt and I was quite the shivering actress. The director's girlfriend had packed us off with a whole load of sandwiches and after myself and one of the other actors in the scene had finished our run through the first shot, we went to grab a sandwich while the crew finished setting up. As we got to the bag we found the sound guy happily devouring the last remaining sandwich on set. Bye bye dinner. Not one word of apology was ever offered us as we survived on a bag of dried apricots that one of the other actors found at the bottom of his bag.

Looking back now, I wish I'd just walked and told them to stuff their poxy job but I was new to the scene and I thought that this kind of treatment was normal. But we live and learn (that we actually do like dried apricots.)

Money Talks

The most frustrating thing about acting (apart from always auditioning with the same group of actresses who look annoyingly like you but happen to be a fraction taller, slimmer or more attractive than you) is that being paid to do the job you trained to do is bloody difficult. For most professions, the issue of being paid in return for you work isn't an issue. However, add in the fact that you fancy prancing around on stage pretending to be a horse/10 year old child/mouse/gay man (I have played all of these) and suddenly the purses are snapped shut and you're left wondering whether you could legitimately live off only products available in the 99p store.

So, the only option is to get a job that can somehow work alongside suddenly getting auditions, roles and also the need to spend the odd day moping around in your pyjamas. What to do then? Most places are fairly unsympathetic when you call up and tell them that you'd much rather spend the day creating 1950s/electro playlists so, unless you're willing to give up this part of your genetic make-up, the options become limited. OK, so I realise that if I want to spend my life pretending to be someone else then some sacrifices will be made and I have to come to terms with the fact that living like a student the rest of my life isn't going to get me far. But in all seriousness, it can be tough to get the balance right between paying the bills and making sure that your main focus is doing the job you love.

Out there somewhere is a magical job where your boss really believes that your acting career is far more important than the task they're paying you to do. When you're contacted regarding a job or audition, they rejoice in your excellent news, pay you for all the time you need off and welcome you back with open arms and a payrise when you come crawling back with empty pockets and a distraught bank balance. Of course, because the world isn't run by flying pigs, this job doesn't exist. Instead you're forced to take on the type of work that the career's advisor never mentioned. These jobs were kept well hidden in a dusty, locked box and was only ever brought out and used to whack someone round the head when they dared utter that they wanted to work in 'entertainment.'

Before my acting sabbatical, I worked in the evenings at an organic takeaway. I had the pleasure of taking food orders from the oddly placed people of south-west London; too rich to demean themelves with ordinary takeaways but too poor to hire a live-in chef/slave. The embittered masses of suburban London are not a fun pack to chat to over the phone and I spent a year receiving a lot of abuse direct into my ear. Menu deliverer who walked straight through someone's newly cemented driveway? My fault. Not being the taxi company that they thought we were. Sorry, my error. The fact that someone had been murdered on their street so we couldn't deliver to them? Yep, I'll take that one too. Oh and there was the glorious time when I accidentally called Holborn Police Station to tell them that we had run out of vine leaves. I'm fairly sure I'm the only person who has wasted police time due to a lack of starter. I apologise to anyone who was in the Holborn area that evening and was in genuine need of their services. Or vine leaves.

So the hunt continues. If anyone out there needs to pay someone to laze around in their pyjamas while creating Spotify playlists and drinking an alarming amout of tea then please let me know before I waste this talent for procrastination and get one of these 'proper jobs.'