Twas another day, another audition.
I received the breakdown for the advert the night
before. The whole advert is to take
place on a garage forecourt and will be filmed predominantly on CCTV.
They need to see me for one of three parts but at this
stage they don’t know which one they want to see me for.
First up, female taxi driver, must be able to actually
drive. She is checking her tyre pressure
and is singing loudly along to the radio.
Second, a dog walking lady who lets her dog pee on the
forecourt and gets yelled at by an angry man.
Third, a frisky girlfriend playfully dancing to the
garage forecourt music whilst she washes the car.
A decade of auditions has taught me not to put myself in
the prettier girl league, so with this knowledge accepted and intact, I focus on the roles of
taxi driver and dog walker, and put myself firmly in dog walker attire and
mindset.
Bring on the audition.
In Soho.
I walk there from my temp job through the throngs of
people on their lunch break, past the doors and alleys where you can get a girl
to do a number of things for only a fiver.
I am genuinely upset by how degrading some of the doorsteps and signs on
doors look. Deep in thought I walk on to
my audition.
After a short wait I am summoned in, with a holler of my
name, into a room with a casting lady and her camera man. She is loud but charming and fun. After looking me up and down and pausing…I’d
dressed in a fleece (subliminal message – I am a dog walker, walking a dog, I’d
look great as a dog walker, I should be cast right now based on my fleece) she
spoke;
“Ohhhhhhhhhh K….Right, so you are on a garage forecourt…
And…
Your boyfriend, of maybe six months, is in the car and
you are washing the car, mainly the bonnet. I want a few winks and cheeky smiles at him,
you’re enjoying yourself, you’re not actually trying to seduce him, you’re just
playful. Keep your arms up here…” she
gestures at a bonnet about hip height (an invisible bonnet), “and just keep
going til I tell you to stop”.
As she walks away from me, she points in the air at her
camera man and says ‘Hit it!’
Beyonce blares out – so loud, so loud that I can’t really
hear her speak anymore, and suddenly I am dancing, rubbing my hands up and down
an invisible bonnet winking at my invisible boyfriend.
She screams,
“Shake your hips a bit more,
Now up and down,
Yep, great, that’s it!
A few more winks.
Great.
More hips…”
We did it three times.
And I did not get the job.
I walked back through the streets I had just poured out
prayers on and observed that these ladies got one thing right. They made sure they got paid money for taking
off their fleece and dancing. I did it
for free. For strangers. On camera.
And that, my friends, is what you call a jobbing actor.
