I woke up this morning, rolled over in bed and opened up my email to find out how long it would take to travel to my audition.
This audition I’ve been building up to today, Tuesday afternoon … The email says it was on Monday afternoon.
I’ve missed the fucker. Cue a million misgivings and little insecurities about meetings missed and late for in the long distant past.
Cue arguments with myself about what might have been if I was more organised, old frustrations about my uncanny ability to self sabotage. “How could I have got it wrong?” I ask myself. On such an appropriate meeting for one of those jobs where even people in the industry have asked “how come you haven’t been in X ?” (Full disclosure – I didn’t get the time wrong. Stand down.)
Panic-Al is looking at options. Well, it’s at the production company offices rather than a rented space, I rationalise to myself. Someone’ll be there. The offers won’t be out yet.
I decide I’m just going to show up at the time I’ve got written down and try to charm my way into a meeting. If they haven’t got time to see me maybe I can still get away with going to Spotlight and paying them for fifteen minutes of self tape time, I decide. But still I’m disconsolate.
So I get up and mechanically shave my beard, wondering if there’s any reason to do so now. It’s cold…
I go back to bed a bit and lie there mumbling lines to myself. I haul myself up again and I select a suit and tie. Then back to bed where I brush up on my burr. I watch some videos in my little ball of misery. I prepare for war.
It doesn’t occur to me that the email I checked might have been an automatically generated one with an old time, which had been adjusted everywhere but there before my agent spoke to me. I’m running worst case scenarios in my head. I’m expecting to arrive and have the casting director actually set fire to me and throw me out the window. Then my agent, who has worked so hard to get this meeting for me, will release the wolves and I will have to flee.
No fire, no wolves.
In fact, nobody bats an eyelid at me arriving for my appointed time. I go in and do the tape. I’m sent away to return because they like me for another human-being in the story that, to my mind, might be even better casting for me.
I come back and the casting director takes her time with me and I leave happy after a respectful and enervating meeting that might lead to some changing work oh lord oh gods just bring it on nmhrk…
Then I preside over the IKEA Christmas party as Scrooge. Jack and I have the biggest and weirdest audience we’ve had in this venue. It’s entirely booked out by the one group. I make some reasonable jokes about flatpack furniture. I have a good chat with the IKEA sustainability manager who is glad we have a relationship with homeless charities. I notice that IKEA seems to be a good company with good ethics. I work harder than usual though, and now I’m in a bus trying to get home and spent spent spent so spent.
It’s been a good day, but a costly one. I was tired already. I’m more tired now. And this bus is determined to be as slow as possible…