Callbacks are a bitch

So, my callback. I got there early and ran into my favorite audition acquaintance, Tracy. We were soon joined by a minor commercial celebrity - Cheryl. (Trust me, you've seen her.) We were gabbing away about babies (Tracy just had one) and weddings (Cheryl just had one) and having a grand old time until we realized that the callbacks still hadn't started. There was much rushing in and out, plates of donuts and fruit and endless bottles of water delivered by casting underlings, but no actual casting being done. Cheryl rolled her eyes, "I was warned that these people are difficult." Difficult? How difficult could it be? All we're doing is holding a freaking sign.

Finally Tracy was called in. When she came back out, the expression on her face was clear: This was gonna suck. "They were... just keep a sense of humor about you, that's all I have to say. The director... just know that he's going to hate everything you do and you'll be fine." Ah, good. Cheryl went in next and was right back out. "Okay, the director is one of those people who isn't clear until you've made a mistake, then he likes to make you feel like it's your fault." She tried to give me some direction but was interrupted by David, the casting director. David is my champion, my favorite of favorites, but when I walked up there was no smile - it was all business. The room was full of frustrated looking ad people, too busy typing away on their IMacs to look up. David told me we were doing things a little differently than in the original audition... then the director took over. He was foreign, Italian? He told me that I was now suppposed to be in a business meeting and that "I should sense" that there was a friend over my right shoulder. I was then to lift up my notes and show the sign with the themepark info, but no let anyone in the "meeting" see it.

I pretended I was taking notes. I "sensed" someone over my shoulder. I subtly held up the sign and CUT.

Agitated voice accompanied by long, exaggerated sigh. "Okay, you held up that sign WAY too long. Everyone in the meeting would have seen it. Again."

I did it again, this time merely flashing the sign and CUT.

Agitated voice. Long, exaggerated sigh, accompanied by hands tossed in the air. "Well it was shorter but I lost the story. And take your glasses off, I'm losing everything with you. Again."

At this point I just wanted the hell out. I did it again - fast, no glasses, "story", whatever. I was up and practically out the door before he finished his (half-hearted) thank you. Cheryl summed up the experience perfectly: "I almost feel sorry for the person who books it."

Luckily (?), that person was not me.