don't play with your food

Last week, I actually was a working actor! (Just when you're ready to say farewell, the fat lady gets a hairball and can't sing…)

I was cast in a project in Connecticut called Play with Your Food, which is a monthly series where the audience is given lunch and then watches anywhere between one and three short readings. (Cute idea, no?) The woman in charge of casting (who I will call Kate, simply because that's what I seem to do when I don't want to reveal someone's real name) worked as an actor for a friend of mine, who recommended me for this project.

The first week was fine. I wasn't in love with the play we were doing (My Cup Ranneth Over, by a playwright whose name I've already forgotten), but I was working with a woman I had seen audition when I was a reader for Tara Rubin Casting -- Natalia Payne. (I highly recommend her. Fellow Yalie and quite excellent!) We'd take the train to CT, do the reading, and take the train back to NYC (and then I'd go to work and stay there until all ungodly nighttime hours).

At the end of the first week, we were handed our checks and next week's train tickets, and Kate told me that we'd be having rehearsal on Monday (since it's a holiday). "No problem," I said, "any time is fine for me that day."

Friday and Saturday passed, and I got a message from Kate. "We'll be at Chelsea Studios from 11-1 on Monday. See you there." I filed that information away and thought that I was all set – I had already told her I'd be there.

Sunday afternoon, while at the Museum of Natural History with Lisa and Max (a NYC museum with a toddler is a fascinating experience… especially on a holiday weekend! But you'll have to wait on that story.) I got a message from Kate saying that she didn't know if I had gotten her message, and would I please confirm? So I called her later that night (on the phone number she called me from) and left a message that, yes, as I had said before, I was still good and planning to be there.

I stayed up very late on Sunday night (winning at cards… mostly) and got up earlier than I really wanted to on Monday, just to get to rehearsal on time. I got hosed by the F train (surprise, surprise) and I got to rehearsal ten minutes late: only to find someone else rehearsing my part!

Kate pulled me aside and said that since she never heard back from me, she had panicked. She had called and called, she said, and since I hadn't called back she had to replace me. But then she didn't bother to call me to tell me so!!

I was so flabbergasted and appalled (and Kate was appropriately mortified) that I told her I understood what she had done, and that I probably would have done the same thing in her situation. (Except I probably would have left eighteen messages, each one progressively more threatening and irritated, and I definitely would have given someone a warning -- "if I don't hear from you by 10 tonight I'm replacing you...") I left the building crying, furious, and offended that someone who had actually worked with me for a week would think I was that flaky or irresponsible.

I cooled off and managed to compose an email to Kate later, which I think was actually pretty good, so I share it here with you:

Hi Kate [obviously not the name I actually typed],

While I understand the straits you felt yourself in, and told you that I'd have done the same thing, I'm not sure I would have handled it the same way; I'd like to give you a few things to consider the next time you find yourself in this situation.

First, I never gave you any indication that I couldn't come to rehearsal or to the shows next week. I acknowledge that not all actors are good at sticking to something they've committed themselves to, but I consider myself an extremely reliable person, and am hurt that you would think otherwise of me. I know you don't know me beyond our brief interaction, but I didn't miss a beat last week, was always committed to this project, and would hope that would speak to my responsibility.

Second, I only ever got two phone messages from you. The first told me where to be and when, and the second said you hadn't heard from me. Not that you were excessively worried, not that you were going to replace me if you didn't hear from me, simply that you had not heard from me and would like to. I know that you called me at home, but you left no message there, either. I had no indication (other than the email that I didn't get until now, as I have crappy email service at home) that you were not going to be using me. Which is a professional courtesy I would have appreciated so as not to waste my time this morning coming to a rehearsal at which I was not needed.

This kind of misunderstanding and miscommunication is exactly why actors have unions and contracts. These formalities create security for producers as well, as you have some recourse to the union if an actor breaks his or her contract and leaves you in the lurch. I would strongly recommend using them in the future, if you feel you are working with actors who are less than fully committed to your work, which I was not.

I am very sad that things happened this way, and wish you the best with your series.
Kate [me, the real Kate]

In the end, I'm a little relieved to be free from the reading series, but since I consider myself such an atypical actor (especially in relation to responsibility, maturity and communication) it was just so stunning to be lumped in with the stereotype.

And yes, tsk tsk, I was working outside union jurisdiction. Since it was only a reading (and everyone else was Equity, too), I didn't feel too badly about it, but my fingers are burnt, and I won't reach for that hot pot again anytime soon. The union seems to do so little for us (in terms of actually enabling us to work) that sometimes I forget the good things it does do.

Additionally, I'd ilke to take this opportunity to thank every producer who has not replaced me. It's an appalling situation, and one I HIGHLY recommend avoiding at all costs.

Now somebody get the fat lady something to drink. I'm pretty sure I want this to be over.