Only in LA could a trailer actually symbolize luxury and success, and that is exactly what I told my actor boss that I longed for as my face scrunched up and tears unwittingly trailed down my cheeks. I quickly wiped the very bottom of my eyes, attempted to catch the droplets before they arrived in his view. Inevitably he noticed as he spun from the mirror and furrowed his brows in sympathy. “Whatchu need? You need some food? Some dessert? You’re officially on break, so…”
I shook my head and apologized, “I feel like you’ve seen me cry so many times!”
“But it’s for good stuff,” he countered, “You don’t cry over any bullshit. If you did I’d think, this girl’s crazy; it’s cool but she’s damn crazy.”
I smiled sadly, “I just… I just really thought it was mine. I let myself really imagine it and…I don’t like fantasizing. It’s too painful…not worth feeling like this. Please don’t make me come on set when she’s here.”
“Feel that wrath! Feel that envy!” he joked, “I’ll have you here everyday she’s on set!”
I shot him a look of mocked horror. “I know the shoot dates. I will call out sick.”
It all began two days prior to this conversation. My agent called me about an audition for a great role on my boss’ show. It sounded perfect for me and the major highlights including being in a shootout with my boss himself! I couldn’t help but endeavor the role was mine; after all, what could be more perfect than making my television debut on a set where I have so much support? I know the entire cast, most of the crew, and my boss “David” is an enormous supporter of my career.
I dressed my best and drove to the studio with more than a hint of glee about my life. The day had finally come: after 2 years, I was driving onto the studio lot as an actress. I arrived at the casting office with ten minutes to spare and was so determined to remain focused I deflected any of my “competition’s” attempts at conversation. “Thank you, these boots were 5 dollars.” Smile. Eyes immediately back to my lines.
“Brenda?” the assistant called.
I scooped up my belongings and entered the audition room with a skip in my step. “I’m here!” I kept thinking.
The casting director smiled, gave me the basic direction, and prompted me, “Whenever you’re ready.” I performed the scene with the reader and looked back to the CD when I was finished. “Great! Now more laid back; even sarcastic.”
“Ok. Cool,” I smiled and proceeded to do so.
After this we moved on to the second scene which included a frantic declaration that my best friend had been killed. I went to the corner of the room, chest to the wall, and took a moment to become alive with such a wild emotion. I ran to the reader pronouncing the news. “Again,” said the casting director, then, “Again.”
The reader smiled and whispered, “Great job” as the casting director held out my picture.
“Give this to the receptionist. See you at 4 for your callback. It was excellent.”
I couldn’t help but jump (one understated jump) and grab my picture. “I will be there!”
The hours between that moment and my callback were one third parts agony and two third parts amazing. I remained focused and even refrained from telling mom and dad what was happening. When I went back to the studio it seemed they narrowed down the actresses to 15 or so. I popped on my headphones, and zoned out on this role. I couldn’t believe how badly I wanted it. Every now and again I glanced to the trailers in the alley, hoping to see David. After all, I wouldn’t be the least bit ashamed if favoritism got me the role: bring on the unfair privilege!
Finally I was called in and found the producer, director, and casting director seated on the other side of a huge conference table. “So, how is it you know [David]?” the casting director inquired.
“I’m his personal assistant.”
“Ah, ok when your picture came in I thought it looked familiar. I finally put that together.” Cool. It seemed I’d gotten in the room with no favoritism at all.
I read, the producer gave me a new direction and I did the best I could. My one sore regret is that I haven’t studied up on how to replicate being on drugs. His note was “more drugged out” and I’m really not sure I pulled that off the best I could have. Regardless, I held onto quite a bit of faith that the part had to be mine.
Unfortunately my agent called me the next afternoon to announce some other girl would be living out my fantasy. I really hated her. I wish she had stayed home sick. I wasn’t the least bit into considering she deserved it more than I, or that the timing was simply hers. I actually cried. This isn’t the usual because you gain and lose roles all the time; this opportunity was just closer to my heart due to the circumstances.
Anway, back in David’s trailer, moments after I got the news, I embarrassedly wiped tears from my face and stated, “I just want a trailer, ya know? Of my own.”
David leaned forward in his chair, “You think that’s all you want? You think you’d be happy in a trailer? You think I’m happy just because I’m in one?” I nodded with the knowing of what was coming next. “You have to remember to be grateful or you will never be. We always want the next thing. I star on a show but now I wanna be an action star; I want people to know my name. You need to celebrate this as a victory. You kicked ass. You got the callback. You are obviously a great actress. You kicked ass! You did great! You are never satisfied. I know you, I know you well.” He was completely right.
I still went through the phases of light grief: sadness to envy to bitterness to acceptance. And today I feel really good. I am so blessed that I continually get callbacks, and I need to revel in each victory. If not, one day soon I will be sitting in a trailer with my name on it, pissed off that the brunette on the show has more lines than me. I’d much prefer walking the route of gratitude and peace in every moment of life, for better or worse, in someone else’s trailer or my own.
