During intermission at a reading last week, my friend and I were openly discussing the issues we had with the piece… when we noticed a lone man standing by the door within earshot. Had we been criticizing the play in front of the writer??? My friend and I immediately clammed up. The play had its flaws, but it was still a worthy piece and I didn’t want to burn a bridge with whoever wrote and/or is producing it.
(Turns out it was an old script and the playwright was dead – but still.)
Days later, a commercial callback ran an hour long (argh!), making me late for my next audition. I did call to say I was running late, but the session was ending soon. I raced to the building only to find the elevator being used for a load-in. Already out of breath and soaked with sweat, I ran the 4 flights up… but there was no re-entry from the stairwell. So, I had to run back down and wait… and wait. A man waiting next to me tried making light of the situation – but I was in NO mood for it. I started to launch into a sarcastic rant… then realized: I didn’t know who he was, and clearly there are a few theatres in this building.
I’m sure my forced, fake smiles were unnerving, but they sure beat letting loose my seething acid rage that would have melted his face.
Remember: If you don’t have anything nice to say… wait until you’re in a bar among friends and a full pitcher.
Then, last night I just barely missed another audition (due to my own slight tardiness and the fact that this studio space doesn’t use signs to tell you who is in what room, so you to wait for their lone employee – who may not be at his post for long periods of time – to tell you where to go), and as I caught my breath outside the building, I called someone to vent…
When a woman walked up and asked, “Are you Susan Atwood?”
Turns out she was with the group I was supposed to audition for. She explained that they were forced to take an hour break in order to switch studios, and invited me back when they returned. That's great, but… *gulp* I hope I didn’t sound like a total bitch as she noticed me. (Or maybe she noticed me because I was bitching?) I wasn’t kvetching about them – just the studio, but still… not the best first impression to make. And besides, maybe they love this studio, or maybe they own it or work there or whatever, you know?
On the bright side – she must have recognized me from my photo (an electronic version of one of my new ones), but I need to remember to keep my tongue a little bit more in check.