The Beggar’s Choices

On the job front, things are looking weird. Okay, they have been weird for some time now, but good things are in the works and disappointments are afoot, so it’s a coin toss at this point. Wait, no, I don’t have a coin to toss.


Sea World, Actor—a few weeks ago I participated in the mass cattle-call for Sea World performers, musicians, dancers, technical people, and costume characters. The auditions were from 10 AM to 4 PM. I arrived at quarter of 10 and saw a line over a mile long of people waiting to get in. Shaking my head, I took my place for what turned out to be a long day. I filled out the paper work. Then I filled out more paper work before completing yet even more paper work. They took my picture with a Polaroid camera, gave me a number (“XXX”, lucky me), and had us wait in the blistering hot sun. That wasn’t the bad part. The bad part was a girl named Sunshine—a morbidly obese teenaged theater geek with stringy blonde hair who wanted to be everyone’s friend and play Zip-Zap-Zup until the cow’s came home. Other typical auditioning types were around, but none was worse than Sunshine, who couldn’t get over the fact that her number was “KKK”. Scary, I know. Luckily, Sunshine wore herself out and exclaimed, exiting the audition room less than a minute after she entered it, “hey guys, I didn’t get it!” And the crowd of make-believe friends wrapped her up in hugs. I had a better audition than I expected, reading the script they gave me and then performing Dan’s monologue from Horror Festival two years ago. The producers were laughing and told me to move to round two…of dance auditions. Basically, I had to learn a little dance and they were fully aware that I was not looking for a dancer position. “Just make it sassy and full of character,” were the instructions given. Done and done. Three days later I sat down for an interview—more of a formal type of interview process—for what was a good meet-‘n-greet type of process. They said they would call me in two weeks. Two weeks was yesterday. I hate the waiting game.

Double Deuce, Mechanical Bull Operator—on one of my late night searches across the barren canvas of Craigslist I found “Mechanical Bull Operator Wanted at the Double Deuce”, a Texas themed bar only a few blocks away from my apartment. Having had a drink or four, I applied in the voice of a young buck-a-roo who liked to listen to the best music in all history (Styx) and make the girls dance. Yessir, I was their cowboy. Once they had reviewed my resume and photograph, I was invited to the establishment to check it out. Definitely crazy, definitely not my type of bar, but definitely a place I could work if need be. The search for the talent managers was a bust, but I dropped my name to the assistant manager who I found upstairs. Today, my inbox received a message saying that we were all a lot of fun, but there could only be one. And you know what? I’m okay with that. Not the job I was necessarily crossing my fingers for and they at least told me “no”, so I consider that a win.

7-Eleven, Sales Clerk—several times I have walked by my local Oh-Thank-Heaven chain and seen a sign for “Now Hiring: Apply Within” and thought it wouldn’t be such a bad job to be the Jewish version of Apu Nahasapeemapetilon Ph.D. But every time I finally got around to applying, the sign was taken down. Who knew that this time around it would be such a hassle to even apply for the job. I went in and asked for an application. There were none, I was told, so try another 7-Eleven and bring it back here. No, none of the other four I stopped by had any. Finally, a guy told me to apply online and that was the way to go. Let me say a word for all the downtrodden who have to apply to jobs online: it stinks. Setting up an account, navigating the site, and then not having any clue as to when you’ll be contacted. And guess what? I caught the manager today and he asked if I had a hardcopy of my resume. Apparently, the electronic application process is for…I don’t know, upper management…making me run home and grab a printed out version of my employment history. The manager told me to wait for the owner. By the time I had waited for 30 minutes, the manger said just to give him a call. Starting to think Keanu Reeve’s advice for all the kids in “Hardball”, y’know, about how showing up is half the battle, is a load of badnews bears.

American Theater, Playwright—at this point in time, this actually looks to be the most promising outlook. Sorta. I finally got in touch with Kevin’s old boss from Junior Theater and we’ve set up an interview time, so I’m incredibly stoked for that. Antonio Johnson, who I met at the Patte Awards two weeks ago wants to have coffee next week after he’s read THE BRONX and STATEN ISLAND. Coffee now, but that’s how things get started. And while it might not be a paying gig, MY FRIEND DAHMER has made it into the Great Plains Theater Conference in Nebraska. I’ve submitted two times before and this is the first time I’ve gotten my stuff in the door. Will have to notify Derf is I choose to attend (I would like to, but it is a little pricey for three days). Still, my play is getting read. Theresa Rebeck is there as a panelist and being given some award. It would be good to go, so hopefully my other playwriting opportunities can fund the trip.