I know you are all waiting with bated breath for Day 3, but I have a breaking news flash. (listening to: Massive Happiness in my Brain)
Madjai will be playing Barry Champlain in the Chameleon Theatre Circle production of Talk Radio!!
This is a GREAT show that was written by Eric Bogosian in the early 80's, and just closed on Broadway. Liev Schreiber earned a Tony nomination for his role as Barry, so naturally, he and I are now best-of-friends.
If you can make it, please, please, PLEASE come see this show. I promise you it will be awesome.
Oh, and PS- Day 3 is coming.
END TRANSMISSION...
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Richfield, Part Deux
Today is ACTUALLY the day I meet Francesca. (listening to: "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" by Gordon Lightfoot)
--DAY 2--
We're woken up by the sound of high pitched laughter. I'm roused from a pretty kick-ass Sports Night dream in which I'm producing my first show, and things are getting pretty intense. But, that's neither here nor there. Natalie goes upstairs to play with the kids and tells me I can sleep if I want to. I look at the clock- 8:15am. sigh
I clean up a bit so as not to scare the little ones, and I swear I hear a ticking noise as I look at Natalie holding little Jackie in her arms. I'm introduced (yes, for the first time) to Francesca and Harris. We all lounge around for a while watching silent television in which two men in primary-colored shirts bounce around an animated house in an attempt to teach very young children colors, or weather, or some other socially useful concept. Coffee is blissfully made, and as I sip, the very curious Harris comes up to me and asks me a few questions, giggles at my answers and then runs away, only to repeat the process a few minutes later. I'm impressed at his ability to pronounce my name correctly, and I find that all three syllables sound adorable when you lisp on the last one.
Brain takes off to go and get breakfast for us, and while he's gone, Natalie plays with the kids while Fran and I talk about general getting-to-know-you stuff.
Greasy sausage gravy over eggs arrives, and I dig into the meal like it's my job. Jackie gets to eat from her high-chair next to me, and does her best to actually put food in her mouth, a task which is ultimately negligibly successful. Fran is very patient with her, though, and I swear that ticking sound gets louder as I look over at Natalie. Harris punctuates the meal by throwing a piece of sausage at my feet and then demanding orange juice (hopefully unrelated occurances), and after breakfast there's more exaggerated television, and after a while, it's nap time for the kids. At this point, it's made very clear to me that waking the children is very bad. Like Stealing Jobu's rum kind of bad. I nod and file that information for later.
Natalie and Fran dash off to run some errands, leaving Brain and I to set up for the day's festivities: Harris' big 0-3 party. Brain and Fran have bought Harris an inflatable slide for his third birthday, and it comes with its own fan to keep it inflated. This thing is a monster:
[[Picture of the inflatable giant toy]]
Brain and I give it a test run, and we also set up some Cornholing and horseshoes. Things are going smashingly, and I should have taken that as a sign that something bad was about to happen.
The women return with groceries and ice, and Brain goes off to take a shower. The girls need help carrying the 50 lbs of ice they bought down to the coolers, so I go outside. As I turn to close the front door, the doors don't line up right. I try pulling the door shut a little more forcefully with no luck. I give it one last little tug, and the door slams shut with a force never before seen by mankind. It makes a horrible, bassy booming noise and all three of us freeze as I realize what I've done. As I wait for the bat to come flying out of the batter's hands and onto my head, Fran's eyes slowly slide to the baby monitor in her hand.
Silence...
Silence...
Nope. No such luck, Madjai. The baby wails, and my heart sinks into my stomach. I've woken the baby. Pandora's box is opened, and it's my fault. I heft the two heavier bags of ice as penance for my crimes, and Atlas-like, haul them downstairs. Fran, God bless her, comes down to help me, assuring me that it's ok, and that it's not my fault, and that she thinks it's really funny. I begin to feel a bit better, but had I known then that waking the kids was the most benign of offenses I would have commit this day, I would certainly have put myself on ice.
Things are going alright until about 2:30 when Guinevere arrives, Natalie's other sister. It's almost time for the party, and people are arriving and hanging out on the deck. On this deck, they have two ornate plant hangers, which Brain has tied balloons to. I'm standing next to one of them, and as I turn to walk away, my hip hits it, and it snaps off from the deck. I'm standing there holding this hanger with the balloons still floating from it, and people start laughing. Now, I'm told that either Fran or Guin has done this before, and someone points at where the third hanger used to be. Sure enough, there's the base of the hanger still screwed to the deck. Somehow, that fails to make me feel any better.
The rest of the afternoon is lazy, most filled with me being not terrible at cornholing or horseshoeing, getting to know everyone and such regular party activites. I even spend one game of Horseshoes standing next to Dad, who is warming up to me... which is very relieving. I make my way back up the deck to chat with Mom and some of Natalie's cousins, and I'm not up there for five minutes when I proceed to break the OTHER HANGER. I'm not kidding. This could not have been written any worse. In my extreme shame, I don't even bother explaining. I just literally run inside, and close the door to the guest room. It takes about 10 minutes for Natalie to come and find me, and even she can't help from laughing. She cajoles me into rejoining the party, but I'm not ready to go back out there yet. We decide to play a quick game of darts to re-establish my confidence. Naturally, I jump out to an early and decisive lead, and with two quick LUCKY darts, Natalie takes me down. Great. Awesome. Fantastic. Super.
Slowly, the day manages to get less surreal. Natalie catches a delicious bluegill, but had already sent me inside to get her wine, so I missed it. More games, more drinking, and more fun occur. Sooner or later, we're sitting around playing Balderdash, and the drunker we get, the more fun it is. Some highlights from this game:
Finally, only the Die-Hards are left, and we decide to play poker. Yes, please. The game drags on for a while, and in an attempt to get it done with and go to bed (It's 3am)... Folks, you heard it here first: I cheat. I cheat so hard. I'm talking looking through the deck to find the card I want kind of cheating. I feel less bad about it, because no one is paying enough attention to catch me.
Brain gets the mega-sweet idea to start doing shots. He pours a shot, and you have to toast with it. The toasts go around, and we all shoot this.. look.. I'm trying to find the words to describe this liquid. Here's what I got:
It's something like that.
Needless to say, the night takes a downward turn after this, and it's about an hour later that Natalie has passed out fully clothed, and I plug in her cell phone and turn in myself. It's 4AM, and I don't know it, but I'm getting up in four hours...
--DAY 2--
We're woken up by the sound of high pitched laughter. I'm roused from a pretty kick-ass Sports Night dream in which I'm producing my first show, and things are getting pretty intense. But, that's neither here nor there. Natalie goes upstairs to play with the kids and tells me I can sleep if I want to. I look at the clock- 8:15am. sigh
I clean up a bit so as not to scare the little ones, and I swear I hear a ticking noise as I look at Natalie holding little Jackie in her arms. I'm introduced (yes, for the first time) to Francesca and Harris. We all lounge around for a while watching silent television in which two men in primary-colored shirts bounce around an animated house in an attempt to teach very young children colors, or weather, or some other socially useful concept. Coffee is blissfully made, and as I sip, the very curious Harris comes up to me and asks me a few questions, giggles at my answers and then runs away, only to repeat the process a few minutes later. I'm impressed at his ability to pronounce my name correctly, and I find that all three syllables sound adorable when you lisp on the last one.
Brain takes off to go and get breakfast for us, and while he's gone, Natalie plays with the kids while Fran and I talk about general getting-to-know-you stuff.
Greasy sausage gravy over eggs arrives, and I dig into the meal like it's my job. Jackie gets to eat from her high-chair next to me, and does her best to actually put food in her mouth, a task which is ultimately negligibly successful. Fran is very patient with her, though, and I swear that ticking sound gets louder as I look over at Natalie. Harris punctuates the meal by throwing a piece of sausage at my feet and then demanding orange juice (hopefully unrelated occurances), and after breakfast there's more exaggerated television, and after a while, it's nap time for the kids. At this point, it's made very clear to me that waking the children is very bad. Like Stealing Jobu's rum kind of bad. I nod and file that information for later.
Natalie and Fran dash off to run some errands, leaving Brain and I to set up for the day's festivities: Harris' big 0-3 party. Brain and Fran have bought Harris an inflatable slide for his third birthday, and it comes with its own fan to keep it inflated. This thing is a monster:
[[Picture of the inflatable giant toy]]
Brain and I give it a test run, and we also set up some Cornholing and horseshoes. Things are going smashingly, and I should have taken that as a sign that something bad was about to happen.
The women return with groceries and ice, and Brain goes off to take a shower. The girls need help carrying the 50 lbs of ice they bought down to the coolers, so I go outside. As I turn to close the front door, the doors don't line up right. I try pulling the door shut a little more forcefully with no luck. I give it one last little tug, and the door slams shut with a force never before seen by mankind. It makes a horrible, bassy booming noise and all three of us freeze as I realize what I've done. As I wait for the bat to come flying out of the batter's hands and onto my head, Fran's eyes slowly slide to the baby monitor in her hand.
Silence...
Silence...
Nope. No such luck, Madjai. The baby wails, and my heart sinks into my stomach. I've woken the baby. Pandora's box is opened, and it's my fault. I heft the two heavier bags of ice as penance for my crimes, and Atlas-like, haul them downstairs. Fran, God bless her, comes down to help me, assuring me that it's ok, and that it's not my fault, and that she thinks it's really funny. I begin to feel a bit better, but had I known then that waking the kids was the most benign of offenses I would have commit this day, I would certainly have put myself on ice.
Things are going alright until about 2:30 when Guinevere arrives, Natalie's other sister. It's almost time for the party, and people are arriving and hanging out on the deck. On this deck, they have two ornate plant hangers, which Brain has tied balloons to. I'm standing next to one of them, and as I turn to walk away, my hip hits it, and it snaps off from the deck. I'm standing there holding this hanger with the balloons still floating from it, and people start laughing. Now, I'm told that either Fran or Guin has done this before, and someone points at where the third hanger used to be. Sure enough, there's the base of the hanger still screwed to the deck. Somehow, that fails to make me feel any better.
The rest of the afternoon is lazy, most filled with me being not terrible at cornholing or horseshoeing, getting to know everyone and such regular party activites. I even spend one game of Horseshoes standing next to Dad, who is warming up to me... which is very relieving. I make my way back up the deck to chat with Mom and some of Natalie's cousins, and I'm not up there for five minutes when I proceed to break the OTHER HANGER. I'm not kidding. This could not have been written any worse. In my extreme shame, I don't even bother explaining. I just literally run inside, and close the door to the guest room. It takes about 10 minutes for Natalie to come and find me, and even she can't help from laughing. She cajoles me into rejoining the party, but I'm not ready to go back out there yet. We decide to play a quick game of darts to re-establish my confidence. Naturally, I jump out to an early and decisive lead, and with two quick LUCKY darts, Natalie takes me down. Great. Awesome. Fantastic. Super.
Slowly, the day manages to get less surreal. Natalie catches a delicious bluegill, but had already sent me inside to get her wine, so I missed it. More games, more drinking, and more fun occur. Sooner or later, we're sitting around playing Balderdash, and the drunker we get, the more fun it is. Some highlights from this game:
- Tzizit - What your wife does to your tie.
- What can't two people do in South Carolina at the same time? Ride a tandem bike
- Misspelling the name of the person you're trying to lie about isn't very convincing.
- Natalie should NEVER, EVER be trusted to read everyone's sheets with the same amount of composure.
Finally, only the Die-Hards are left, and we decide to play poker. Yes, please. The game drags on for a while, and in an attempt to get it done with and go to bed (It's 3am)... Folks, you heard it here first: I cheat. I cheat so hard. I'm talking looking through the deck to find the card I want kind of cheating. I feel less bad about it, because no one is paying enough attention to catch me.
Brain gets the mega-sweet idea to start doing shots. He pours a shot, and you have to toast with it. The toasts go around, and we all shoot this.. look.. I'm trying to find the words to describe this liquid. Here's what I got:
Imagine taking the blood of a demon and mixing it with the sweat of a maggot, fermenting it in barrels of wormwood while those barrels are smoked in the breath of the whore of Babylon. Then, once this diabolical concoction is prepared, pour it into a dirty sink pipe and serve over razor blades.
It's something like that.
Needless to say, the night takes a downward turn after this, and it's about an hour later that Natalie has passed out fully clothed, and I plug in her cell phone and turn in myself. It's 4AM, and I don't know it, but I'm getting up in four hours...
Monday, July 23, 2007
Cleveland Richfield Rocks!
No, not the one in MN. (listening to: my head pounding)
Ok, so.. I spent last weekend in Ohio with Natalie. Meeting her family. They're wonderful, amazing people, and I'm totally serious when I say there isn't ONE of them I didn't like. Which is interesting, because I met them all. Literally. Every. Last. One. It was like a family reunion, and I was invited. The odds were high for embarrassment, and embarrassment there was. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's give you the play-by-play, shall we? I'll post one day at a time, so you can get the dramatic feel for the trip.
*NOTICE* I have pictures that help me tell this story, but at the moment, I can't get them onto my computer. I will post them as they become available, filling in the holes.
--DAY 1--
Our flight leaves Minneapolis at 7pm local time, so we had to be at the airport at 6. The idea is that I'll pick up Natalie at her house, and then we'll park at the Mall of America (specifically, one of the hotels next door) and then take the light rail to the airport. What I didn't count on was the fact that this is a REALLY good idea, so it's already been thought of. You can't park at the hotels next to the mall. They do nightly sweeps. Damn. So, we drive to the airport to park there. For $16 a day. For three days. Awesome.
When we finally get to the airport, We go through security, and because I didn't bag my liquids, my bag has to be opened and inspected. Apparently, the rule is that any container larger than 3.4oz cannot be carried on. Listen carefully to that... Any CONTAINER. It could be empty, but you still can't carry it on. Madjai loses his hair product, shaving cream and toothpaste. This is an awesome trip, and we're still in Minneapolis.
Now, sans-gels, we're hungry. So, we stop for a burrito at the airport common area. (By the way- two burritos and a coke at the airport common area is $18. Keep that in mind when traveling, folks.) This is Natalie really excited about leaving:
[[Picture of Natalie at Airport]]
And this is her burrito, which is decidedly less exciting:
[[Picture of Natalie flipping off her busted burrito]]
Skipping ahead a few hours, we land in Cleveland, and Natalie's Mom and Dad are there. This is a moment I have much apprehension about. Her Mom is a lovely woman, who reminds me instantly of my theatre professor in college. Uncannily so. Her Dad is a tall and affable fellow, who shakes my hand and welcomes me to Cleveland. (Side note: He calls me by my name as he's loading up our luggage. The first and last time he will get my name right all weekend.)
It's a 35 minute drive to Natalie's sister's house, where we are staying (let's call her Francesca). Francesca, I'm told, lives with a man (who we will call Brain, for two reasons) who is me in 12 years. I'm excited to meet him. Mom is very nice and is pointing out landmarks to me, and asks me questions about my life and my work. Dad is very silent as he drives, talking only twice to Natalie, and answering only direct questions with direct answers. I'm pretty sure I catch him staring at me in the rearview mirror at least twice with eyes of nearly infinite suspicion.
We pull into Francesca and Brain's driveway, and Brain meets us at the door. This guy is my style. He gives us a brief tour of his rambling suburban mansion, complete with a room that could quite easily control either several nuclear missile silos or rogue black ops agents in the remote corners of the world. Two computers, each with dual monitors (one of which is a 30" LCD), and every piece of equipment in this room glows either red or blue or green. I'm in heaven.
Francesca is a taller version of Natalie, with longer, straighter hair. She's lovely, and her and Brain make a cute couple. They have two children, "Harris" and "Jackie," who I will find out very soon are two of the CUTEST kids ever created. They are sleeping at the moment, however, so I won't meet them until Day 2.
We chat for a bit with Brain and Fran, and they make us feel instantly at home. I like these people, they're easy to talk to, and they are very down-to-earth. Also, as a bonus, they don't seem to be interested in quizzing me about my life. Which is nice, because it's late, and I'm very tired. As Brain shows us our guest room, replete with TV and DVD player, I realize that it's only 10pm my time. I'm still Exhausted from our trip though, so we watch 7 minutes of Adventures in Babysitting before passing out. This is the most sleep I'll get all weekend, and so far... I have no idea just how much is about to happen.
Ok, so.. I spent last weekend in Ohio with Natalie. Meeting her family. They're wonderful, amazing people, and I'm totally serious when I say there isn't ONE of them I didn't like. Which is interesting, because I met them all. Literally. Every. Last. One. It was like a family reunion, and I was invited. The odds were high for embarrassment, and embarrassment there was. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's give you the play-by-play, shall we? I'll post one day at a time, so you can get the dramatic feel for the trip.
*NOTICE* I have pictures that help me tell this story, but at the moment, I can't get them onto my computer. I will post them as they become available, filling in the holes.
--DAY 1--
Our flight leaves Minneapolis at 7pm local time, so we had to be at the airport at 6. The idea is that I'll pick up Natalie at her house, and then we'll park at the Mall of America (specifically, one of the hotels next door) and then take the light rail to the airport. What I didn't count on was the fact that this is a REALLY good idea, so it's already been thought of. You can't park at the hotels next to the mall. They do nightly sweeps. Damn. So, we drive to the airport to park there. For $16 a day. For three days. Awesome.
When we finally get to the airport, We go through security, and because I didn't bag my liquids, my bag has to be opened and inspected. Apparently, the rule is that any container larger than 3.4oz cannot be carried on. Listen carefully to that... Any CONTAINER. It could be empty, but you still can't carry it on. Madjai loses his hair product, shaving cream and toothpaste. This is an awesome trip, and we're still in Minneapolis.
Now, sans-gels, we're hungry. So, we stop for a burrito at the airport common area. (By the way- two burritos and a coke at the airport common area is $18. Keep that in mind when traveling, folks.) This is Natalie really excited about leaving:
[[Picture of Natalie at Airport]]
And this is her burrito, which is decidedly less exciting:
[[Picture of Natalie flipping off her busted burrito]]
Skipping ahead a few hours, we land in Cleveland, and Natalie's Mom and Dad are there. This is a moment I have much apprehension about. Her Mom is a lovely woman, who reminds me instantly of my theatre professor in college. Uncannily so. Her Dad is a tall and affable fellow, who shakes my hand and welcomes me to Cleveland. (Side note: He calls me by my name as he's loading up our luggage. The first and last time he will get my name right all weekend.)
It's a 35 minute drive to Natalie's sister's house, where we are staying (let's call her Francesca). Francesca, I'm told, lives with a man (who we will call Brain, for two reasons) who is me in 12 years. I'm excited to meet him. Mom is very nice and is pointing out landmarks to me, and asks me questions about my life and my work. Dad is very silent as he drives, talking only twice to Natalie, and answering only direct questions with direct answers. I'm pretty sure I catch him staring at me in the rearview mirror at least twice with eyes of nearly infinite suspicion.
We pull into Francesca and Brain's driveway, and Brain meets us at the door. This guy is my style. He gives us a brief tour of his rambling suburban mansion, complete with a room that could quite easily control either several nuclear missile silos or rogue black ops agents in the remote corners of the world. Two computers, each with dual monitors (one of which is a 30" LCD), and every piece of equipment in this room glows either red or blue or green. I'm in heaven.
Francesca is a taller version of Natalie, with longer, straighter hair. She's lovely, and her and Brain make a cute couple. They have two children, "Harris" and "Jackie," who I will find out very soon are two of the CUTEST kids ever created. They are sleeping at the moment, however, so I won't meet them until Day 2.
We chat for a bit with Brain and Fran, and they make us feel instantly at home. I like these people, they're easy to talk to, and they are very down-to-earth. Also, as a bonus, they don't seem to be interested in quizzing me about my life. Which is nice, because it's late, and I'm very tired. As Brain shows us our guest room, replete with TV and DVD player, I realize that it's only 10pm my time. I'm still Exhausted from our trip though, so we watch 7 minutes of Adventures in Babysitting before passing out. This is the most sleep I'll get all weekend, and so far... I have no idea just how much is about to happen.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Aw, Nuts
I'm so bloody clever. (listening to: "Untitled I" by Keane)
So, last week I sent out three packets consisting of two headshots, a resume and a cover letter to three of the local talent agencies. Monday, I got a call from Nuts asking if I would come in for an audition. For representation. Today.
This is a stressful enough weekend as it is, and to have this looming over my head today is both wonderful and terrible. There was a story "they" made us read in primary school about this knight who wanted to marry the princess. The king was an evil king, and made all suitors pass a test. He would place the knight in an arena with two doors. Behind one of the doors was the princess. Behind the other, a dragon. If the knight opened the door to the princess, he would be able to marry her. If he opened the door to the dragon... well...
I kinda feel like that. I feel like I've got my hand on the door, and I'm about to open it, knowing that I could just as easily find the dragon behind it. Or, if you prefer a somewhat less medieval analogy: Remember those movies where the bomb is about to go off, and the guy has the pair of scissors, and he's got one of the wires and is about to cut it... yeah. It's like that.
I guess I'm not really sure what I'm nervous about. I mean, I've been acting somewhat successfully in this town for about three years now, and I never had an agent. Now that one is in the possible future, if I falter and don't get an offer, does that really harm me in any way? Specifically, I suppose my thinking is that if an agency sees nothing special in me, my chances of actually making a living doing this in the future are greatly diminished. And that's what I want. I want to be able to just do what I'm good at for the rest of my life. I don't think that's too much to ask.
========UPDATE==========
A summary of my audition.
Went in there with two women, Cindy* and Ruth* (All names have been changed). Talked a bit about whatever, then we went in to the office. It's Myself, two girls, and two other guys, none of whom I know. We chat for a bit about what an agent is, what they do, what to expect and what not. Then, it's time for the on-camera audition. So, there's a stack of copy on the desk, and we're told to pick a commercial and an industrial (usually a training video of some time, but not always). I choose the industrial with some guy talking about how a store displays merchandise, and a commercial about buying auto parts. One of the women goes in ahead of me, and I run over the scripts as I wait my turn.
At the last minute, I change my mind about the commercial choice, and choose a Timber Lodge Steakhouse commercial. I walk into the "studio," and one of the other agents is filming with Cindy there as well. He's watching the Twins game on gamecast. :^)
I stand in front of the camera, we chat a bit about my experience on camera (almost nothing) say my name, and do my first read. The steak commercial. Let's see what I can remember:
Then it wraps up with more name dropping.
Now, as I said, I'm not the first person to go. The girl before me was in there for like 10 minutes, and I could hear her read, and then re-read, and on and on. I finish my read, and the guy says, "Ok. What's your other one."
...I'm not sure how to take this. I do my other one, and it's short. So, when I finish, the guy isn't looking at me. He's reading my resume. He realizes I'm done, and he looks up, stops the camera and says,
Explanation: Ear prompting is big in industrials. There's so much script, and no time to memorize, so you record your lines on a tape, and then you wear an earwig which plays it back. You talk along with your recording.
It's... fucking hard.
So, yeah.. I think that went well.
END TRANSMISSION...
So, last week I sent out three packets consisting of two headshots, a resume and a cover letter to three of the local talent agencies. Monday, I got a call from Nuts asking if I would come in for an audition. For representation. Today.
This is a stressful enough weekend as it is, and to have this looming over my head today is both wonderful and terrible. There was a story "they" made us read in primary school about this knight who wanted to marry the princess. The king was an evil king, and made all suitors pass a test. He would place the knight in an arena with two doors. Behind one of the doors was the princess. Behind the other, a dragon. If the knight opened the door to the princess, he would be able to marry her. If he opened the door to the dragon... well...
I kinda feel like that. I feel like I've got my hand on the door, and I'm about to open it, knowing that I could just as easily find the dragon behind it. Or, if you prefer a somewhat less medieval analogy: Remember those movies where the bomb is about to go off, and the guy has the pair of scissors, and he's got one of the wires and is about to cut it... yeah. It's like that.
I guess I'm not really sure what I'm nervous about. I mean, I've been acting somewhat successfully in this town for about three years now, and I never had an agent. Now that one is in the possible future, if I falter and don't get an offer, does that really harm me in any way? Specifically, I suppose my thinking is that if an agency sees nothing special in me, my chances of actually making a living doing this in the future are greatly diminished. And that's what I want. I want to be able to just do what I'm good at for the rest of my life. I don't think that's too much to ask.
========UPDATE==========
A summary of my audition.
Went in there with two women, Cindy* and Ruth* (All names have been changed). Talked a bit about whatever, then we went in to the office. It's Myself, two girls, and two other guys, none of whom I know. We chat for a bit about what an agent is, what they do, what to expect and what not. Then, it's time for the on-camera audition. So, there's a stack of copy on the desk, and we're told to pick a commercial and an industrial (usually a training video of some time, but not always). I choose the industrial with some guy talking about how a store displays merchandise, and a commercial about buying auto parts. One of the women goes in ahead of me, and I run over the scripts as I wait my turn.
At the last minute, I change my mind about the commercial choice, and choose a Timber Lodge Steakhouse commercial. I walk into the "studio," and one of the other agents is filming with Cindy there as well. He's watching the Twins game on gamecast. :^)
I stand in front of the camera, we chat a bit about my experience on camera (almost nothing) say my name, and do my first read. The steak commercial. Let's see what I can remember:
We here at Timber Lodge Steakhouse know that some of you out there really love our steaks. So much so that you're giving them away as holiday gifts. You come in, order a steak and shrimp platter to go, as if we have gift wrap, and then return home and place it under the tree. We cannot stress enough that this is not a good idea. First of all, the wrapping paper smashes down the sour cream on the baked potato, and the traditional shaking of the package before opening really ruins the artful presentation. Not to mention the problems this might cause in houses with dogs. Might we suggest a simpler solution? Gift cards.
Then it wraps up with more name dropping.
Now, as I said, I'm not the first person to go. The girl before me was in there for like 10 minutes, and I could hear her read, and then re-read, and on and on. I finish my read, and the guy says, "Ok. What's your other one."
...I'm not sure how to take this. I do my other one, and it's short. So, when I finish, the guy isn't looking at me. He's reading my resume. He realizes I'm done, and he looks up, stops the camera and says,
Him:"Madjai. You NEED to get into ear prompting."
Me: "I took a class on it in college."
Him: "You got the equipment?"
Me: "No."
Him: "Buy it. Today. You've got the right look and presence for it, and you'll get a ton of work. Give [prominent twin cities actor] a run for his money."
Me: [ silent, big shit-eating grin ]
Him: "Yeah. You're done. We'll see yo-- you'll get a letter from us."
Explanation: Ear prompting is big in industrials. There's so much script, and no time to memorize, so you record your lines on a tape, and then you wear an earwig which plays it back. You talk along with your recording.
It's... fucking hard.
So, yeah.. I think that went well.
END TRANSMISSION...
Friday, July 13, 2007
What I Do At Work
Seriously, someone please find me a better job. (listening to: someone hammering... like, 100 feet away)
While I don't have this exact conversation every day, here's a good example of what I do in between actual calls.
XXXX: bored
me: cracks knuckles
XXXX: your blog is un-updated
-- 14 minutes go by --
me: True business.
me: What should I blog about?
XXXX: i got nothing
me: Give me a topic
XXXX: hmm
XXXX: blackberry
me: Like, the phone?
-- 3 minutes go by --
XXXX: do your student loans make you ill?
XXXX: how can I make them go away...
XXXX: think I can just ignore them?
XXXX: how can I get a new social security numbeR?
me: I saw it in Coneheads... you just need to go find Adam Sandler. He'll hook you up.
XXXX: done and done
me: You know where to find him?
XXXX: he hangs out at the skylark
XXXX: i will see him tonight
XXXX is busy. You may be interrupting.
-- My Phone rings --
Me: "Thank you for calling xxxxxx Support, This is, How can I help you?"
Caller: "Hi... I have a problem."
Me: "Alright, Can I have your site ID?" (A 5-digit code that each company gets to identify themselves to us.)
Caller: "XXXXX"
Me: "Ok. Who am I speaking with?"
Caller: "Mike."
-- Pause, as I wait for him to say his last name, as I'm sure he's not the only person named "Mike" in the company. Finally... --
Me: "What's your last name, Mike?"
Mike: ""
Me: "Great. How can I help."
Mike: "My order entry program doesn't work."
-- At this point, I can tell this call is either going to be very long, or very short. And it will most definitely be painful. When a caller says something "doesn't work" and then doesn't say anything else, we can usually tell they have no idea what they're doing --
Me: "Alright. Can you clarify what you mean by 'doesn't work'?"
Mike: "I'm getting an error message."
Me: Thinking:"Well, Hallelujah."
-- At this point, there's another pause. You'd think that our friend Mikey would catch on that maybe I need to know what the error message says. Nope. --
Me: "What does the error message say, Mike?"
Mike: "Oh. You need that. Uhhh... It says 'customer is required.'"
-- I know the answer before I ask... --
Me: "Did you enter a customer into the order, Mike?"
Mike: "Oh. I have to do that?"
Me: "Yeah. The error message is telling you that the order needs a customer."
Mike: "Oh. OK."
*click*
Mike has hung up on me. Apparently, he's gotten what he needs from me. I feel so used. I write up the call-
PROBLEM DESCRIPTION:
User called in with an error message: "Customer is required" when entering a new order in order entry.
PROBLEM RESOLUTION:
Let user know that customer was a mandatory field. Customer hung up before solution could be verified.
-- Back to chat --
me: Some customers are idiots.
XXXX: no
me: Seriously. I have a college degree, and my grasp of basic logic is far beyond some of these mouth-breathers. These are IT professionals and System managers at these companies, and they can't decipher a simple error message.
XXXX: haha. I FOUGHT OFF THE CHINESE THIS MORNING. FLEX
XXXX is busy. You may be interrupting.
And so it goes.
END TRANSMISSION...
While I don't have this exact conversation every day, here's a good example of what I do in between actual calls.
XXXX: bored
me: cracks knuckles
XXXX: your blog is un-updated
-- 14 minutes go by --
me: True business.
me: What should I blog about?
XXXX: i got nothing
me: Give me a topic
XXXX: hmm
XXXX: blackberry
me: Like, the phone?
-- 3 minutes go by --
XXXX: do your student loans make you ill?
XXXX: how can I make them go away...
XXXX: think I can just ignore them?
XXXX: how can I get a new social security numbeR?
me: I saw it in Coneheads... you just need to go find Adam Sandler. He'll hook you up.
XXXX: done and done
me: You know where to find him?
XXXX: he hangs out at the skylark
XXXX: i will see him tonight
XXXX is busy. You may be interrupting.
-- My Phone rings --
Me: "Thank you for calling xxxxxx Support, This is
Caller: "Hi... I have a problem."
Me: "Alright, Can I have your site ID?" (A 5-digit code that each company gets to identify themselves to us.)
Caller: "XXXXX"
Me: "Ok. Who am I speaking with?"
Caller: "Mike."
-- Pause, as I wait for him to say his last name, as I'm sure he's not the only person named "Mike" in the company. Finally... --
Me: "What's your last name, Mike?"
Mike: "
Me: "Great. How can I help."
Mike: "My order entry program doesn't work."
-- At this point, I can tell this call is either going to be very long, or very short. And it will most definitely be painful. When a caller says something "doesn't work" and then doesn't say anything else, we can usually tell they have no idea what they're doing --
Me: "Alright. Can you clarify what you mean by 'doesn't work'?"
Mike: "I'm getting an error message."
Me: Thinking:"Well, Hallelujah."
-- At this point, there's another pause. You'd think that our friend Mikey would catch on that maybe I need to know what the error message says. Nope. --
Me: "What does the error message say, Mike?"
Mike: "Oh. You need that. Uhhh... It says 'customer is required.'"
-- I know the answer before I ask... --
Me: "Did you enter a customer into the order, Mike?"
Mike: "Oh. I have to do that?"
Me: "Yeah. The error message is telling you that the order needs a customer."
Mike: "Oh. OK."
*click*
Mike has hung up on me. Apparently, he's gotten what he needs from me. I feel so used. I write up the call-
PROBLEM DESCRIPTION:
User called in with an error message: "Customer is required" when entering a new order in order entry.
PROBLEM RESOLUTION:
Let user know that customer was a mandatory field. Customer hung up before solution could be verified.
-- Back to chat --
me: Some customers are idiots.
XXXX: no
me: Seriously. I have a college degree, and my grasp of basic logic is far beyond some of these mouth-breathers. These are IT professionals and System managers at these companies, and they can't decipher a simple error message.
XXXX: haha. I FOUGHT OFF THE CHINESE THIS MORNING. FLEX
XXXX is busy. You may be interrupting.
And so it goes.
END TRANSMISSION...
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