Broken clouds
Broken clouds
46.4 °F
October 24, 2016
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“Manager, not an agent,” she said with the fewest number of syllables available to her.

“What should I do?”

“Call her.”

Presciently predicting such a roadblock, Ann had rescheduled a physical therapy appointment to be available by phone during my audition. “Let me talk to her,” she said with all the authority of a big-city talent agent. Meekly, I handed my phone to the girl in power. After a few grunts, she handed it back and said, “Sign in,” pointing to the computer screen. Without further instruction, I checked “freelance” on the box next to the agent question and sat down.

I looked at the script. It was a dialogue, one male, one female. I studied the female. Her first line was “Yep.” There were five lines in all. All “Yep.” Great, I thought. I don’t even have to read this. A few minutes later it registered. I would have to express all my intention, character, humor and meaning in five repetitive utterances. Before I had a chance to absorb this, the door opened and a director peered at me. “...Next!”