Catch and release

I've been put on hold and released plenty of times. But never with such speed as today.

They called at 2:50 pm to put me on hold for a job in June, and a mere 126 minutes later called again to let me go.

And it's from this one casting studio that is a perpetual thorn in my proverbial side. They do these massive open calls, where they bring in 300 or more actors and models. No appointments. So at 2-3 minutes a person, well, you do the math. Except for two occasions out of more than a dozen times I've been there, the wait has been well over an hour.

I'm used to the convention in this business that the actor's comfort and convenience (at least at this level) is of least importance, but this place takes it to new heights.

I've never booked a job there, but I've been put on hold a handful of times. They always end up releasing me. Or asking me about dates I marked as conflicts, telling me the 4 dates I have open won't work -- only the 1 I don't will do.

Some day I want to meet someone who actually books a job through them. I've never met a one.

San Diego wrapup

Getting back to San Diego, a few impressions.

First, like Vienna reminds me of a giant, outdoor art museum, San Diego is like a sprawling botanical garden. Beautiful stuff is growing everywhere.

The landscape is amazing, especially up around La Jolla -- coves, cliffs, endless sea.

It did not, however, completely blow me away, for some reason. I think because as beautiful as it is, it still pales compared to the Central Coast -- Carmel down to Big Sur. Or maybe it only pales in my memory, because I saw that first and thought it was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen.

There was wildlife everywhere.

And not just in the wild animal park.

Finally, I re-learned a valuable lesson I forgot from Puerto Rico years ago. When it comes to these high-sun climes, the so-called Golden Hour really is the only time for photos.

The road not taken

Somewhere in Kentucky (Probably near Shelbyville)

2002

I got offered a role the other day from this actor/director who's pretty well regarded. I worked with him before in a show and he's a cool guy. I liked the script, too. It was a good role.

But ... I'm just not ready to jump into something that will consume half my precious summer. It's sad, I suppose, where my priorities have gone, but the longer winter lingers here, with its rare eruptions of springness, the more I find the notion of preserving my freedom for a second summer really, really desirable.

Of course, after turning it down I come to find that the play just premiered off-Broadway, is making its Chicago premiere and is written by a senior writer from a hit network show. Oh, well. No regrets. Much.

I did, however, take a small role in a play that has a short, three-night run and will involve just a handful of rehearsals. It will likely do nothing in particular for my career, but the director's a good guy who I've worked with a number of times over the years. And I carefully submitted my conflicts around the key street festivals and other events ...

Hubris

I did not get that gig after all!

Actually, I knew writing about it so confidently would jinx it. Oh, well.

I did get a callback for a better -- and better paying -- opportunity, though. That was unexpected, based on what I think they're looking for. But now I've jinxed that one, too.

It's funny -- I've written before about the weird things that actually get you cast. In this booking on Monday, they would say, when I was being a little too serious in my reads, that they wanted to see the "real Rob" that they saw in auditions. I assured them the real Rob was a total douche bag.

It was particularly odd given that the people saying it (the clients and producers) weren't actually at the auditions. They just saw the tapes. I can't imagine what I did on tape that showed the "fun" personality that they wanted. I was doing a script on personal finance, for chrissakes.

Once again, just goes to show: you never know ...

Off-bookishness

When I was 7 or 8 years old, my brother, who's five years older, pointed to a page on his school textbook and said, "See all this? I have to memorize all of this. That's what you have to do in Junior High."

I cried and cried, sure that my future academic career was hopeless.

Today I went to an audition and found when I got there that my script didn't match the others. Mine had 4 paragraphs and theirs had six. This was for a news anchor role, and they wanted people with authority and a command of copy.

I let someone else go before me so I could get up to speed on the final third of the script. I had about 10 minutes and I went in and -- boom -- I nailed it. They were impressed, and chalked it up to my theater experience. It was especially cool because part of the audition was giving us a new page of copy and seeing how we handled it on the fly.

This would be a great trick to pull out in future auditions -- I could actually pretend to only have part of the script (damned printer!) then pull off a miracle.

Then I chatted them up about competitiveness at the India Institute of Technology and the explosive growth of infrastructure investment in China -- amazing facts I learned from doing this cool book.

If I don't get this gig, I will be shocked. Or at least surprised. Unlike my brother.

Always expect the worst ...

... and you'll never be disappointed. 

That's always been my philosophy. And, in fact, I usually find things turn out the opposite of my expectations.

Like today's shoot, for example. After 3 auditions and 3 wardrobe fittings, I expected a nightmare. But it was actually pretty great. And what made it great was the people were so damned cool.

Yes, there were some delays -- some technical glitches and last-minute copy editing that slowed things down. But the clients were so nice and so gracious, I really didn't mind.

This project -- an interactive educational web site for their key customers -- was the first of its kind that they've tried, and it could lead to other things (for me, too), so they were committed to quality and wanted the best product possible. And I feel grateful to have been a part of it -- they are, after all, a Fortune 25 company or something.

You know, I've always felt, in this career and my regular one, that you can pay me, and give me nice perks (like a new suit), but the thing that motivates me more than any other is positive feedback, encouragement and the occasional "thank you." 

So, long day, but good.

Plus no barfing!

Happy Barfday!

Seriously, today's my birthday and I woke up this morning and threw up. Several times. Excellent start to a new year.

It was a little like last February, though not nearly as severe. Though that was my fear as I huddled there in a cold sweat on the bathroom floor -- "Can't go to the hospital! Can't miss tomorrow's shoot! Can't miss birthday cake!"

Luckily, it went away after a few hours and some sleep. And I am lucky it wasn't tomorrow. That would have been a disaster.

Oh, well. The year can only get better from here ...

It's the little things ...

Weeks after the robbery I was just discovering little things that were missing beyond the big ticket items.

A silver money clip I never used. It was nice, though. A gift, from Tiffany's. I didn't use it because it was the third money clip I'd been given in my adult life and I'm still using the one my sister got me when I was, like, 22 or something. But it bugs me that these assholes got it.

Then a while later I noticed a towel was missing. A fucking towel! Presumably used to wrap the useless laptops in. It wasn't one of my everyday towels. It was old, but in good shape. And it was a nice freakin' towel. Again, it bothers me.

Finally, last week, as I'm packing for San Diego, I find my backpack is missing. It was a crappy 10-year-old Timberland backpack, but still ... 

It's funny, one of the first things I checked was luggage. The closet was askew and I knew thieves often stow their loot in luggage, but I didn't see anything missing. Probably because I checked out all the good stuff. The Tumi, the leather, the stuff that cost 10 times what the backpack cost. These assholes have no taste or discernment -- that's clear.

Anyway, on the bus this afternoon, I saw a guy with the very same brand, model and color of backpack. I stared at it, studying it closely to see if it was mine. But it really had no distinguishing features. And, I regret to say, I assumed it wasn't the thief because the guy did not fit my picture of what the thief probably looked like.