Charles NOT in Charge Part 2 – Conclusion

* Story Contains Some Strong Language

A few weeks later I was on the set of No Life to Give waiting to get my instructions from Tony the Soap’s stage manager.

I was still buzzing from my meeting with Anna Marie, assistant Casting Director, for No Life.

“You have a perfect look for Soaps, ” said an impossibly tiny woman who sat behind a massive desk. Her head with a spiky punk haircut was barely visible over a pile of papers.

“I do?” I said.

“Definitely. You look like the boy next door who is also a little dangerous. I really want to use you for our production,” said Anna Marie grinning at me like a feral hamster.

“Yeehaw!” I yelled.

“I don’t have any speaking parts right now but would you be okay doing extra work?” said Anna Marie looking through a pile of papers.

“Yeah sure, no problem.”

“Great. You’ll be cast as “MAN WITH COAT” in next week’s Restaurant episode. I’ll contact you later in the week with more details. Meanwhile the head of casting likes her male actors to look “hunky” so maybe you could pump some iron before coming in.”

“Yeah, alright,” I said, feeling suddenly diminished. 

“Okay then,” said Anna Marie, standing up with her hand extended. “Thanks for coming in.”

I had to reach over a veritable mountain range of scripts and work papers as I attempted to shake her hand. Even then we barely brushed fingertips as we said our goodbyes.

As I attempted to withdraw my arm, Anna Marie squeezed my right bicep with her hand. She made a throaty sound of disapproval and she shook her head negatively.

“Make sure you hit those Nautilus machines before next week, Charles,” she said, wagging her finger at me.

“Yes, Mam!” I said, making my escape.

A few minutes later I was taking the subway back downtown. The interview went well I thought, but for some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had short-changed myself by agreeing to do extra work on No Life.

Still, things were looking up, and if it meant I had to do a few minor parts to get started – so be it.

Well, my resolve quickly crumbled as I waited to get started on the set of No Life. For one, I learned that being an “extra” was probably the most boring job you could perform on a show.

You stood around and moved only when you were told to. Usually, all movements done by the extras were constrained to a very short distance. You walked past or stood behind the stars of the show as they attempted to whip up some drama for their audience out there in TV Land. There was no acting involved. 

Secondly, I was also surprised by the lackluster performances by many of the cast members. Most of them seemed preoccupied or bored during rehearsals before we started filming which was to start around three in the afternoon.

“Well shit, I could do a better job than any of these jokers,” I groused. Little did I know that most of the actors had been given their scripts the night before and were struggling to memorize and regurgitate their lines before taping.

Tony, the stage manager/director, looked like a retired longshoreman. He was taller than me and probably outweighed me judging by his enormous beer belly. His ginger hairline was receding and his dome forehead shined with sweat. He had the nose of an alcoholic, beet red with broken capillaries. His breath smelled like office coffee and acetone.

Tony called me “Coat Guy” and grouped me with two other extras who he called “Sweater Chick “and “Hat Dude.”

Two mammoth moveable cameras that hummed constantly were positioned in front of a restaurant set so they could film the scene between two actresses seated at a table.

My job was to walk behind the actors whenever Tony gave me a signal. Hat Dude and Sweater Chick sat at an adjacent restaurant table pretending to have an animated conversation. When it was time to walk, Tony would drop his arm like starting a race and I would walk behind the stars of the show in a short straight line. I would wait off to the side until Tony gave me the cue to walk again and then I would stroll across the floor from the opposite direction. This was to give the viewing audience the impression that the actresses were in a busy cafe.

I must admit the first time I got my cue to walk behind the performers – I got butterflies in my stomach because I was being filmed. But, after walking back and forth a few times it quickly became boring. 

Meanwhile, the seated actresses at the table were deep in their scene as they breathlessly spoke about some nogoodnik named “Brad” who was cheating on Monica, his wife on the show. It appeared Mr. B was fooling around with a blind Amish girl who had been impregnated by Brad’s twin brother who may have been her real half-brother born out of wedlock but was now missing, presumed either dead or abducted by aliens. Monica had recently been diagnosed with incurable cancer and her fretting friends were wondering if they should tell her or not about Brad’s infidelity and risk hastening her demise. One of the seated women had also been secretly seeing Brad behind Monica’s back until he had made her get an abortion after he had discovered he had given her syphilis whereupon she sworn revenge against the unscrupulous bastard!

The writers of the show must have been doing a lot of blow as all of these calamitous revelations were revealed before the first commercial break and made no sense at all.

Now I had heard that Mary Kay Baker, the head of casting, watched every episode of No Life which gave me the idea that despite my humble part perhaps I could add a little chutzpah to my performance. Just to stand out, you know.

So the next time Tony gave me my cue I skipped past the cameras rather than walk to my mark. One of the cameramen snorted a laugh and Tony glared at me and mouthed the word “no” at me.

A few minutes later I got the signal to do my walk and this time I limped slowly behind the seated actresses.

As I hit my mark, I abruptly felt someone yank me backward by my jacket collar.

“What the hell are you doing out there,” Tony hissed in my ear.

“Uh…acting,” I said.

“Look, Coat Guy, you’re an EXTRA on the show. This scene isn’t about you. This is supposed to be a busy restaurant and you are supposed to be a customer. The cameramen are filming the stars of the show. YOU ARE NOT A STAR. SO QUIT FUCKING UP THE SHOT.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Just walk when I tell you to and cut out the “acting” crap,” said Tony.

“Okay,” I said miserably.

“I’m not warning you again. You fuck up one more time and you’re off the set,” said Tony walking back to stand by one of the cameras.

I’d like to say from that point on I gave a shit about my work on the show but, I can’t. I felt demoralized and my heart just wasn’t into it.  I hated Tony, I despised extra work and I couldn’t wait to get excused from the set which came soon enough after a few more strolls past the camera.

I didn’t say goodbye to anyone as I left the set. I just exited the building without looking back.

*

There is a darkness in all of us. A sadness that reveals itself during our lowest moments. The subway ride home with its shitty overhead lighting, the uncomfortable feeling of the hard plastic seat, and the rancid smell of something that had gone bad in the train car seemed to mirror my miserable mood.

I kept wondering  – why was I  putting myself in this position of constant rejection? Was I cut to be an actor? Or was I deluding myself with fantasies that would never become a reality? Yeah, I had a lot of questions alright but no answers. 

The light on my new answering machine was blinking when I got home later that evening.

Wouldn’t you know it – “As the World Rotates”  wanted to know if I was available for extra work next week? I’d be playing  “WAITER NUMBER FUCKING TWO” on their Soap. All I had to do was call Casting back to confirm.

I didn’t think twice before deleting the message.

Finis