So...that was it?

Just got back from my very first official commercial audition, and let me tell you something they don't...print auditions are very anti...climatic.  Of course I was expecting something along the lines of stand here, smile, click ok we're done but just how very impersonal and...well...for lack of a better word (and against my better judgement to use a word twice) anticlimactic.

First, you spend all morning getting ready.  Sleep in late skipping the usual Monday morning gym session in the hopes that you'll appear well rested after a long Sunday hiking in the canyons and the closing shift at the bar.  Then you rush around town looking for a place to get your eyebrows threaded and head shots printed because of course you didn't have time in the last two days since your agent booked you the audition.  After spending too much time calling and driving by at least 10 potential eyebrow salons with no success you give up on the eyebrows and head straight to the print shop noting, for future reference, that Monday is the absolute worst day to try and get your eyebrows done.  Then you spend an hour pinning up your hair, which you had to rush and get re-dyed on Saturday after realizing your roots were a bit too grown out and that it probably wouldn't help you book a print add campaign, and then later realized that the color you just re-died it may be too red and edgy for the "early 30's executive" look they are going for and making sure your makeup is just right.  Subtle, pretty, and not overdone and yet strong, smart, and mature.  Finally you realize that the 3:30 call time is quickly approaching and you slip into the outfit that you've picked out, hoping that the slacks aren't too business-casual since they said upscale-casual and that your cardigan doesn't scream "designer label that you used to work for" too much.  You arrive with a couple minutes to spare and enter the casting offices and are greeted with a cattle call of Asian and "ethnically ambiguous" women and children where you fill out a form, are told you have to take your hair down and sweater off, and then line up.

Awesome.  Hair down you say?  Crap.  Hair was up for a specific reason, and it was cooperating so well in the semi french twist that it had just been pined into.  So I headed to the bathroom hoping that my decision not to straighten my hair wouldn't come back and bite me in the ass.  Luckily, it decides that today will be a good hair day regardless of the fact it is a deep burgundy which could cost me the job on that fact alone (don't get me wrong, I love the color...just not sure they will share my sentiments) and it cascades messily but not overly crazily down my back in loose waves and curls.  Not perfect, but better than I could have expected.  Unfortunately I probably look three years younger than when it was up, and without the cardigan covering my arms I have two new problems.  #1, my shirt is sleeveless and though I pride myself on keep my arms toned, I'm not sure that it's the right look for the part, and #2...they want a shot of your hands out in front of you, palms up, and then the backsides of your hands.  Ohhh shit.

See, for my gift to myself on my 27th birthday I decided to get something special.  I know I may only look 21 but I'm getting old and I'm starting to realize that it's now or never.  That I can't put off my life, my future, my career, my dreams any longer.  That the time is now and I have to work towards something, anything, and no matter what it is or how my dreams and aspirations change over the years...I need to not ever forget to keep pushing forward.  So, I decided to get something that would remind me every day of what I needed to do, something would never let me forget...

And now they were telling me they wanted a photo of my palms...damn it, I didn't think to cover it since I thought I'd be wearing my cardigan.  Not just that but I totally have neglected to get a manicure anytime recently, and since I work in a bar restaurant my hands and nails get a little bit of a beating.  They are clean, but uneven and the cuticles are not the prettiest.  Ugh.  

So while in line I struggle and I mean STRUGGLE to get the green stone bracelet that one of my best friends brought back from Taiwan for me for Christmas from my right wrists where it resides happily off my hand and onto my left in the hopes I can get it to cover or at the very least distract them from the navy blue star permanently affixed there.  Meanwhile I'm thinking to myself...all these little girls, these 8-10 year olds...wait...am I supposed to be a early 30's executive...MOTHER of a 8 year old?  Man, maybe it was the urgency of it all but somehow I was able to pull that bracelet off and somehow shove it onto my other wrist, and when I say I didn't think I'd ever have to take that off...well, you can imagine how the struggle must have looked to all the people in the waiting room with me.  So then it's my turn and I go in and it's seriously "ok smile, turn, back to the front hands in front of you (imagine pushing on a wall, like that), other sides, hair forward, NEXT!" and I am scooted out the door quicker than I can manage to finish saying "thank you, have a good day."  No hello, no goodbye, no chance to win them over with a genuine smile and sparkling personality, nothing.

And that's it.  All that prep, all that worrying about getting my hair done, then worrying it would be too red, worrying about what to wear, how to do my hair, the time it took looking for an eyebrow threading spot unsuccessfully, finding a print shop and convincing them to let me print only a small number of head shots rather than their 50 print package, rushing to arrive on time...and I'm left driving home with only one thought "I should have gotten a manicure."  Lol, yes.  After all this, the one thing I've taken from it and never will forget to do again?  Get a manicure.  So, now it's hair, manicure, sleep, before every audition whether or not I think they will want to see my hands or not, because who would have thought that my hands could cost or win me an audition till now?  And the best thing is...after all these years of my mom telling me to make sure to keep my fingers and toes presentable, to take off the old chipped polish, cut them down to an even size, not bite my cuticles or mess with my hang nails, it's finally sunk in.  Not because I think a guy will know whether I'm "up-kept or unkempt" from looking at them as she would tell me, but because now my appearance is more important than simply finding a mate...it's what will land me a job in this crazy city.

So my next course of action after I close the computer and before heading off to another night of work?  Cut and file my nails, make myself another sandwich, and wait to book my next audition...hopefully by then having found my new favorite and go-to nail salon.