The Trials and Tribulations of the Commercial Agent

Oh hey, it's been a while! Sorry 'bout that. It's been a busy and weird past month.

So a few weeks ago, my manager tells me that he's gotten me a meeting with a reallyreallyfreakingood commercial agency, since one of his clients is also repped by them. And I'm psyched. I might have an agent for commercials?! Whaaaaat. That's awesome.

The day of the meeting, I make sure I have a headshot and resume and wear that one shirt that makes my eyes look f'awesome (something that says, "Look, y'all, these could be in a commercial! And by these, I mean my eyes!").

I get there 20 minutes early, so that I could literally decide to run a lap though the building, and still be there early (and physically in shape). I take the elevator up to the second floor, and walk into this lobby that kind of reminds me of the dentist's waiting room. There's old, random books that have absolutely no connection with one another (Baseball's Greatest Games and a book about boats, my favorite.) and it's fucking freezing. Good thing my LOOKATMYEYESTHEYAREBLUE! shirt is also long-sleeved.

I make my way up to the reception, and tell her I'm here for my appointment. She nods, and tells me to take a seat. I wait to hear some sort of phone call or quick buzzing in to say I'm here...and then realize 5 minutes in that everything's done through instant messaging. I'm glad AIM is still being used by someone.

About 20 minutes later, the agent comes by and I give him my best "Hello, nice to meet you!" and we make our way to his office. And I'm feeling pretty good! Things are goin' to go well, Dox!

I get into the office, sit down...and there's a headshot/resume of some girl in the trashcan, half sticking out like it was trying it's best to get back onto his desk.

I stare at the photo.

Shit.

If Amanda's getting the boot...are they really going to want me?

He breaks my inner dramatic monologue by asking for my headshot/resume.

"Oh!...yeah, of course..."

I hand him my picture, wondering if I'm going to join "Amanda" in some depressing whiskey drinking later.

The small talk begins: where are you from, how do you like LA, how did you get your manager.

And then we talk about what I do besides acting to make money. I tell him that I'm a part-time babysitter, and he tells me he has a few kids of his own. He then goes on a tangent about how he bets I make a lot of money, as he pays his babysitter TONS to take care of his kids. He mentions how she doesn't even have to do a lot when they're asleep, suggesting that there should be some sort of pay-rate drop once the kids go to bed.

"Yeah...haha...nap time's great."

'This is awkward' is starting to become an understatement.

I mention how I know a couple of his clients from doing improv work with them. He mentions how one of them has been "really good for us", but says it in a way like the actor was the prized ham at a county fair, or like a cow that produces really expensive milk.

He goes on to remark that he doesn't even know if this actor enjoys doing the commercials, and that he probably doesn't, that the actor would probably want to do something else. But that's what you gotta do to make money.

This is getting depressing.

He then asks me if I have any questions.

I hate this part. The question part. Because it makes me feel like I should've had a really good question ready, but I totally forgot to think of one.

I kind of go into a mini-coma until I finally think of: "Yeah, what kind of...parts would you see me in for commercials?".

That works. That's a legitimate question I'm curious about.

But he kind of squints his eyes and shakes his head.

"You can't really put someone in a role for commercials, because you never know what they're going to want...so there's no real parts in commercials."

Oh. Fuck. Alright, my bad.

Okay. Got to think of something better.

"I'm SAG-E right now, do you guys submit for non-union commercials or just union?"

He pauses for a second.

"Well...that's a good question..."

YES. FUCKING WIN.

So he answered that they did both, but it depended on the breakdown.

At the end, things wind down and he tells me, "I'm going to send your information over to the others, we'll talk about you behind your back, and then I'll email your manager this weekend and tell him if we want you or not."

Oh. Cool. It'd be funny, except I know thats exactly what happens.

So with my awkward laugh, I leave.

And I wait.

And I wait.

And I wait.

And finally, my manager asks me if I've heard anything back from him, to which I tell him that the agent was supposed to e-mail him with a response...

So at this point, I'm thinking this really isn't going to happen and I basically plan on looking at other commercial agencies.

And then the surprise of the century:

Apparently he really liked me.

...I don't get it. If you really liked someone, why don't you just e-mail them when you said you would and not wait a week and a half?

I was still kinda iffy about the whole thing, but I wasn't going to be like, "Nooooo you took a long time to e-mail me and you sound not really interested, so I'm not going to meet with you agaaaain." So they scheduled a meeting for me to meet with the agency again, with two different people.

This was my second meeting with the agency...so what does that mean? Was I approved by "the other agents" who talked about me behind my back?

Honestly, I wasn't really sure. But the meeting was set, and I wore another MYEYESAREBLUEWHAAAAAT shirts. I figured I wouldn't need to bring another headshot, since they already had the one from before, and that one would've gone into some "NOT TRASHCAN" container.

So I get to the agency. Or I thought I got to the agency. Because I accidentally went into the identical building right next door. Fuck.

After trying not to sweat while running, I find the agency, and let the secretary know I'm here.

A few IMs later, and I'm transported to a new office, with an older man and a woman waiting behind a desk.

I've convinced myself that this is going to be an awesome meeting. I'm going to be so fucking commercial they're going to send me onto an audition even before this meeting ends. Yes. It's going to happen.

"Headshot and resume?"

.......fuck.

My stomach drops and all the butterflies and singing birds floating around me die instantly.

"....I'm sorry, I don't have one."

What is wrong with you, Dox?!

Okay, for the record and my sanity...I don't "forget" my headshot/resume. I don't "not have the sides". I always have my shit together. It keeps me sane so THIS never happens eveeeeeer.

"Well you should always have a copy of your resume whenever you go to a meeting."

Literally, it was like my dad just told me he was disappointed in me. It was bad.

"No, definitely, I'm really sorry about that."

But the damage was done. I was the actress who didn't have her shit together.

It didn't help that they weren't impressed with my "only been here 9 months" blurb, and the guy definitely didn't like the fact that I had never taken a commercial class.

"I'll give you a list of classes we like."

"Oh, yeah, thank you."

I take out my phone, ready to type them out.

Suddenly, a secretary comes into the office with a sheet of paper and hands it to me.

I wondered how many times they printed out that list to commercial hopefuls.

Wait, was that more instant messaging magic?

He asks me what classes I've taken.

"I just took a Lesly Kahn intro class, and I got into the comedy intensive class taught by her, so I'm thinking of signing up for the next session."

"You should ALWAYS be taking classes."

...if I'm always taking classes, where do I have time to be working on sets?

They asked if I had any questions.

Can I press the undo button and bring in my headshot/resume? Can you totally erase that first impression? Can anything other than a class convince you that I can and have done commercials?

I kept it safe and asked the "good question" I had asked last time.

And with that, they told me to call Friday and they would tell me if they decided to take me or not. I exited with a really good handshake. Everyone loves a good handshake.

I exited feeling...well, like an idiot. I blamed my past self for not thinking of bringing a resume. But there wasn't anything I could do now...

...or was there?

I had a rehearsal for a film right after the meeting, but I could drive back home, print out a resume, staple it to a picture of my face looking commercial-y, and drive back to the agency...at rush hour.

And that's exactly what I did. Sure, I couldn't create a time machine in time to fix my first impression, but maybe my band-aid might fix everything! Yes!

I weaved my way through traffic, printed out my resume after praying to the "Low Ink" gods, and smushed it to my headshot. After jumping into my car and driving back another 40 minutes, I parked, ran out and into the building...

And the elevator doors, 10 feet in front of me, were coming to a close! I needed to get into the elevator NOW.

I sprinted, stuck my hand in the middle of the doors, and prayed the my hands wouldn't get crush...I need them for commercials.

And the doors stopped!

Then I looked to my left and realized there were 3 elevators not being used.

...Oh.

Whatever, to the second floor!

I briskly walk to the agency, kinda thankful it hadn't closed yet, and I hand the receptionist my headshots.

Alright. I had done everything I could do after that. Now...I wait.

Friday comes, and I call, full of butterflies. I call in and wait to be directed to the original agent I had met with...

...Oh. He's not there.

Alright.

So I am then told to call Monday. That's cool, I'll wait and just distract myself, all good.

It's Monday, so I give them a call...

...Oh, you're busy? That's cool. Sure, call me back whenever.

And so I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And what the fuck.

This is like when I waited for the cast list to come up for "Into the Woods" in highschool. The list didn't go up for 3 WEEKS...and with all that anticipation, I ended up with the part of "Tree". There are no "Tree"s in Into the Woods.

I let my manager know what was up, and he just ended up e-mailing the agent.

And after 24hrs, I got an e-mail with the title of "Boo (INSERTAGENCYHERE)" and I knew...this was "Into the Woods" all over again.

So they didn't take me.

Was it because I didn't take a commercial class? Do you really need to take a commercial class to know how to do commercials or is it more common sense shit?

Do you really need a class to prove you can do something?

I don't know, you don't really get follow up questions with agencies that didn't want to sign you.

Moral of this story is...no matter how conceited you may end up looking, store headshots/resumes fucking everywhere. In your bra. In your trunk.

Everywhere.

Because people want those pictures of your face. And they don't like looking stuff up on computers. Unless it's by instant messaging.