I was pretty excited for my commercial audition yesterday for Cars.com. I was sent out for the role of "gammar school teacher." So I drove allllll the way to Santa Monica (about 17 miles, or for those of you not familiar with traffic on interstate 405, 45 minutes) only to get to Ocean Park Casting and have the casting director ask the small group of women waiting to be seen, "Are any of you here for the role of the teacher?"
"Yes!" I smiled, quite scholarly.
"Your role has been canceled. A memo was sent out to all the agents."
"Oh no!" I took a quick look at the other ladies sitting next to me.
"Is there another role you can see me for?"
He thought for a quick sec and said, "Sure!"
So thanks Mike, I really appreciated that.
I asked the ladies what their wardrobe specs were, and they said, "1987 suburban housewife." So I unclipped my bangs back onto my forehead and fluffed up my hair, and then, at the audition, tucked in my invisible son, marveled at his intelligence, and looked at my husband, proud.
At least I was seen, but man. Bummer.