So you are reading the title of this blog expecting to read something on a hotel experience in room 781 or some lucky lottery lucky number that won you millions. Right? Or maybe even expecting a story about an outbound flight with Emirates to some far away place?
Notice how all your thoughts may have been positive about this three digit number? Not in my case, because in my case number 781 is the number I received -on an a4 piece of paper- at 12:00 this afternoon from a grumpy old lady before walking into what seemed to be like a stadium filled with 1000 other guys who all looked around about 19 years of age and had red/brown hair light green/grey eyes, who were rather pail and pasty looking and who all happen to be around about 1.77m in height. . . .Wait a minute I’m1.77m tall. .with red/brown; green/grey eyes; pail and pasty looking skin and in fact. . I happen to be 19 years old. There I was number 781 in the line of guys that all looked like me -or at least different variations of me- auditioning for a role that no one seems to have be given the audition briefing for.
I always try to make small talk with those around me when attending these cattle calls –hoping it will pass time- instead the time seems to take even longer, once you’ve heard every guy in the room mention all the shoots he has done and all the roles he has landed. . . and if your lucky enough you will get away with not having to look through their portfolios that contain photographs of these guys posing in every pose humanly possible –this including the splits and poses you would recognize from those home-made porno's that have the electro/funk music playing in the back ground-. One good thing I can say is that at least, at this point I realize that these guys that look like they could pass as my twin are nothing like me.
“Oh wait! What number did they just call?” I often found myself asking my twin next to me after I came out of my day dream. And then he would reply “dude number 780”.
17:00-“Number 781. . . . Number 781. . ?”
Oh right that’s me. That’s when the nerves kick in as you find yours self going from a room with lighting of that of an old under-run pub to having at least four spot lights on you. And now with my stomach turning as if I’ve had extra spicy nachos for lunch -and me only now needing to pee- walk onto the infinity wall (which is nothing fancy, only a white wall that looks like a skating ramp) into the light I go, reminding myself to suck it in and give the performance of my life.
So here it goes-even though I haven’t been given any briefing on the casting besides the order from a man behind the camera “Name first then age and agency”
“Hi my name is Blythe Linger I am 19 years of age and I then go on to say the name of my agency.
“Thank you that will be all” the man says as if I where meant to know we where finished. So that's it then, I'm thinking to myself. You saying I waited 5 hours to be given the opportunity to say my name; age and who my agency is?
Hmmmm I found myself in extreme confusion and disappointment.
Funny enough 3 days later I found myself doing the same thing at the same casting studio, this time everyone in the room looked like they could have passed as my younger sister.
“What’s the chance there will be a role in there for me what a hell of an industry”
