Don't Forget the Nepotism
Late last week, while perusing Craigslist, I saw an ad. I opened it to see what it had to say. It went a little something like this:
Casting a new $1,000,000 Game Show for unnamed network called "Here's The Name of Our Show!!" hosted by a fairly popular comedian! We're looking for 18+, FUN and INTERESTING contestants who love to KARAOKE and know the lyrics to the biggest hits. This is NOT a talent contest. However, you must be willing to SING YOUR HEART OUT! We are going to be in Miami this weekend running auditions. So if you or any of your friends would be interested in auditioning, please come meet us on: date, time, place.
I had seen a commercial for said program and thought at the time, "That would probably be fun." So, for shits and giggles, I sent them an email and scored a VIP pass. Hooray!
There were no set times, just that they were starting at noon. I've never been to a casting call, but I've seen enough reality television to know that people line up around blocks and stuff for things like this. I decide that I'll show up a little before noon since I am so cool that I have a VIP pass. Upon arrival, I was shocked to see no line around the corner, just maybe 15 or 20 people milling around. They split us up into VIPs and commoners and then escorted us into the venue.
We filled out some paperwork and took a quiz regarding our knowledge of music. After that, we were separated into groups yet again, and gathered around a table where we took turns introducing ourselves to the group and the casting guy. I believe there were 10 people in my group and I was next to last to go. The enthusiasm level was sub par, let's say equivalent to how excited one would get if a dust bunny had just hopped by. Now, like I said, I've never been to a casting call, but I'm bright enough to know that networks don't want people who will act like a log on their new show. As we go around the semi-circle, the casting director looks as though he may fall asleep soon. That was how I knew it was time to let out the alter-ego.
Sunny, my not-so-evil twin, only comes out when provoked or I need her for something. She's the happy, bubbly, really annoying girl that is continuously smiling and has a joke for everyone. I had put her away when I left Club Med, but decided to let her out for some air.
Suffice it to say that at least the CD woke up when I spoke. After everyone was finished, he looked at us all and said that some of us would have some more paperwork to fill out and others may get a call later in the week. You know what that means: if you get paperwork, you have a chance, if not, thanks for coming, have a nice life. He went around the table and when he got to me he told me that I did horribly on the quiz. I already knew that. But, he liked me so he gave me another quiz and told me to "do better". And that is exactly what I did. I only missed one on the second quiz.
After they checked the quiz, they came over and told me that I was invited to the callback. It was happening the next day. They threw out a time and I said I would be there. Look out world, here I come!
DAY 2
Today I actually have an appointment time of 2:30. I figure it can't take too long as yesterday I was already back at home by 2pm and it was an open call. I arrive at 2 just to give myself extra time though. Upon entering the building, I am greeted by a girl who says that they're running an hour behind so just have a seat. Okay, whatever, shit happens. I made a new friend of the girl whose appointment was to be before mine. They had this crazy "line" that snaked through some tables, along to a couch and then to two different stools right before the door behind which was the CD. We sat around watching television, reading magazines, and patiently waiting our respective turns. After an hour, I ventured over to the table where some of the casting folks were sitting. I asked if I could get an update on where we were in the process. Meanie said that we were in the same place as an hour ago. I wanted to slap the curls right out of the bitch's head, but I refrained as I figured it would hamper my chances of being on TV. Nicey, a new girl, gave me a much nicer and more helpful response. Dummy, he just sat there looking well, dumb.
I went back to the table to report my findings. About 10 minutes passed before Meanie came over to our table all kinds of apologetic with explanations and such. I dismissed her with the same attitude she gave me. By this time, it's nearing 5 o'clock, but I had made it over to the couch which equalled the last stage of the line. I went to visit the ladies room, because after all, you can only hold in all the Coke for so long, and when I returned, I was informed that someone was placed in front of me in the line. Okay, whatever, it's only one person.
So, I'm getting excited, it's almost my turn. It's down to only two people left in front of me. This, dear reader, is the point in which the powers that be (or the powers that wannabe as the case may be) decide that they're going to take a new approach to the process. Meanie comes over to the couch and points out a few people and tells them to get in line, but to me she says "You hang around a little while." Excuse me? What exactly have I been doing for the last <watch check> 4!! hours?!?! I watched people who certainly arrived after me get launched into the line before me. I have now gone from 2 people in front of me to at least 10 people in front of me. If my math is correct, I've gone from another half hour or so of waiting to a minimum of another hour and a half to two hours of waiting. Call me crazy, but my miniscule shot at winning one million dollars is no longer worth another two or more hours of my weekend.
I went over to wish my new friend luck and I sat and chatted for a few minutes with her mother. I then approached the table where the casting people were sitting. It went something like this:
Me: Do you need this stuff back? (Application, paperwork, quizzes)
Meanie: Why?
Me: I'm leaving.
Nicey: Oh no.
Dummy: Why?
Me: It's a little disconcerting to sit here and wait patiently in line for four hours and when it gets to two people in front of me to have you change up the line and put people in front of me who just arrived.
D: Well, I hope that's not why you're leaving.
N: Please don't go.
Me: Goodbye.
I headed towards the door, full of complete and utter disgust for the entire process and the waste of my time that it was. I was almost to the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Mind you, not the best idea to go sneaking up on people since that's how people get hurt, but I turned around and there stood D.
D: Look, I know it seems crazy, but we're doing it this way to (and this is a direct quote) make your wait shorter.
Me: You're making my wait shorter by putting 10 more people in front of me?
D: I know, it might not make sense, but it's true.
Me: Ok. Goodbye.
And out I walked.
So, I tend to think I had gotten good vibes from the CD both on the first day and when I had seen him on the second day. I am 99% sure that the CD is the guy in charge of the "entertainment company" that was running the casting call. Other people have to have gotten tired of the crap and left, but I didn't witness it. I thought it odd that they tried to make such ridiculous excuses when I was leaving. I guess that's the way casting calls go though and now I know. I know not to go to another one. My only question is do I just let it go or do I drop the CD a line and let him know how disappointed I was with the way everything was handled? I'm open to suggestions.
PS. On the application, they asked if I had a website. I gave them my Vox address. I hope they read this.