I meet a lot of people. I’m social. I’m an extrovert. It
happens.
Inevitably, within a few short moments of meeting someone new, I am asked the question, “So, what do you do?”
I have almost come to dread this question because after
answering “Oh I’m an actor,” I generally get one of two responses:
1 1) Don’t you mean “actRESS”
Or
2 2) So what do you REALLY do?”
Both of these responses used to frustrate me. I would get
defensive and make negative snap judgments about the ignorant or condescending
persona of my new associate.
My answer for question #1 is simple: If you want to call me
an actress, that’s fine. However, on my tax form and any occupational paperwork
I fill out, the box available for me to select is “actor,” and nothing else. It is a gender neutral job title. You
wouldn’t call a female physician a Doctress. You would call a woman who travels
to space an Astronautette. Now, I’m no a
raging feminist, so if you call me an actress, I won’t be offended; however, if
you try to correct me when I tell you what I do for a living, I will secretly
roll my eyes at you while giving you a sweet southern smile.
Moving on.
My answer for question #2 is a bit more complicated, so I’ve
decided to write a blog series about it. For a long time, it made me angry that
people didn’t think I could make a living as an actor. After some time in New
York City, I’ve realized there’s more truth in this question than people often
realize. While I am primarily a performer pursuing my dreams, I have put on
many different hats in the past few years to keep my bank account from crashing
between gigs.
I was told a few weeks ago that 75% of an actor’s career is
spent in auditions. I believe it. We
spend hours, and days, and months, and years in holding rooms and audition
rooms, and we spend approximately the same amount of time taking classes, doing
research, and preparing for those auditions. The difficult truth is that we
don’t get paid for any of those hours. Booking a gig is great, and getting paid
to act, sing, and dance is amazing, but unfortunately hopping from gig to gig
to gig with no holes is rare, and you never know how long those holes can be,
so an actor has to be prepared. We have to eat, dangit.
I have a lot of friends who wait tables or work in food
service. This is a pretty typical survival job for an actor. It typically
provides a flexible schedule, an engaging environment, and coworkers who
understand the situation. I, however, have never actually worked in the
restaurant world. My musical theater training provided me with a plethora of
helpful life skills that I have utilized in many different ways, and in many
different jobs in recent years, many of which make for fun stories. Over the
next few weeks I plan on sharing my experiences with those of you who are curious
enough to actually read my blog.
I present to you, Odd Jobs: An Eclectic Collection of Workplace Stories.
Tune in next time for Episode 1: The Afro-beat Dance Call.
Grace be with you,
Lindsey Shea
