IT’S ALL ACADEMIC

Skull and crossbones backpack stuffed with my usual supplies, I wandered uneasily onto the Sony Pictures soundstage like a bespectacled pimply kid who’d just been transferred to a brand new school district.  “Good morning!” I smiled to all the unfamiliar faces who were already sizing me up as a potential unwanted nerdy intruder on the Closed Set an hour and a half before the Popular Kids were scheduled to arrive.  But having anonymity on my side, they all smiled back politely just in case I happened to be a newly appointed Principle.

Meandering the length of the enormous stage to have a look at all the sets I was trying to “own” my right to be there; but my inner teenager was struggling, ears beginning to burn red with anxiety until I happened upon the Second AD who had initially called me to ask my availability.  And hugging him like a second cousin who might escort me to the prom, I clung to him tightly as he began polite introductions. 

“Can you do a computer voice?” the First AD immediately wanted to know before I inasmuch had said hello.  “Here, on this page” he added, plunging a script into my hands.  “Give it a try.”

(Day one and I get a pop quiz; go figure…)

Scanning the dialogue I let fly with the first choice that came to mind.  “No, too sexy” he commented.  (Wow…  I have never been accused of that!)  “Try it more computerized” my Performing Arts AD Teacher continued, as I robotically annunciated the verbiage.  “Somewhere in between…” he leaned back in his chair, fingertips touching together in a symbolic triangle still waiting to hear the perfect ‘ting’.

“I’m a great mimic!” I assured him, knowing that if I heard what he was trying to elicit from me at least once, I could more than likely nail the cadence. 

And with a down-loaded audio sound bite for me to imitate from some odd on-line program off his personal laptop (don’t want to know, don’t need to know…), I reverted directly back to my real teenage years of annoyingly mimicking random people on the TV set in our Indiana family room.

“Perfect!” the ADs laughed in two-part harmony.  “OK Pen, so aside from the computer voice, I also need you to be the “Bartender”, the “Ordinary Girl” at the bar and the “Speaker” at the funeral”, they told me as I frenetically scribbled my to-do homework on the script within the next few hours before the Writer/Producers descended upon our Classroom.

>>><<<

As last year’s self-appointed Second Team Homecoming Queen had abandoned her peers in favor of reigning over a new school district, I hovered quietly in the shadows as I’m wont to do.  The Popular Crowd were arriving intermittently (as they are wont to do), and rather than greeting them voraciously I kept my distance.  As the new kid on the block, er, lot, I had no interest in slipping on the sash and tiara and trying to fill the silver sneakers of the prior notoriously boisterous Queen.

So not surprisingly, when I unobtrusively appeared on the set to perform as both the self-confident “Bartender” as well as the less-than-glamorous “Ordinary Girl” in my first encounter with three of the starring Actors, they never so much as noticed that I happened to be the same person portraying the parts of two drastically different characters.  (My first real test and I got an A+!!!)

I was an acting genius!  I was Meryl Streep!  Nay, I was Katharine Hepburn!  Perhaps I’d need that Prom Queen sash and tiara after all! 

Glissading humbly off the set (as any brilliant Actress feign-glissades humbly) and seeking no public recognition whatsoever, I attempted a moment of potentially accolade-related ‘surprise’ as someone whispered quietly in my ear:

“Just so you know, the Actor on the left is great after he’s comfortable being around you for awhile; and the two on the right are very sweet, just kinda, um, ‘scatter-brained’.”

“Oh” I replied, pushing my bookish glasses up on my nose, retreating once again back into the library of shadows; a sudden realization occurring that (thankfully?) the Popular Crowd had neither officially accepted nor rejected me.

And for my first half day at a well-established School, anonymity was once again my best friend.

>>><<<

Hearing the cue to speak for the computer voice whilst our lead Actors performed their scene, I stood innocuously off-stage delivering the lines as scripted in the dialogue.  Yet after our initial endeavor, there was suddenly much discussion regarding the proper timing of when the “computer” should be heard, and again my teenage ears started reddening.  Had I royally screwed up already?  Would this lead to immediate detention, or worse, expulsion?

I had already begun to try to figure out the proper explanation on my next unemployment form as to why I’d been canned when the Director turned to me and offered his hand.  “I don’t know you” he smiled pleasantly, “and you are?”

And greeting him with all due respect, I shook his hand as well as both of the lead Actors who took the moment to graciously introduce themselves warmly.  “I think we’ll err on the side of caution, and let the Writers hear their words immediately rather than pausing for our Actress to hit the ‘enter’ key at the Run-Thru.  So do exactly what you did Penny, and we’ll adjust as needed when we go on camera.”

(My second test, and I’d call it a solid A!)

>>><<<

By day two, I was feeling a wee bit more comfortable in my new Home Room.  A couple of my fellow Second Team members who had been there for five ‘years’ had taken me under their wings protectively and properly schooled me with the Cliff Notes of ‘What You Need To Know about our Long Running Network (not cable!) Television Series’.  “Oh, and if they ask you to speak any dialogue, be sure to write +$25.00 on your daily voucher” one of my junior stand-in friends educated me.

Wait, WHAT???  (If this was English 101, she might has well have been speaking Latin.)

“But… but… but… don’t we have to be approved by a Producer or something?” I fretted.  (Clearly this was some sort of horrific hazing ritual wherein I was about to be “pantsed”, given a toilet swirly and eventually duct-taped to the elephant doors…)

“It’s Season SIX, sweetie” she beamed a dazzling smile, “and that’s how we roll here” she added with a confident nod.

>>><<<

With an extra fifty bucks (!) headed my way for standing-in for the computer voice for two days, I could barely contain myself on my third day at the elite Academy.  We were camera-blocking with the tech crew, and having mastered (at least that’s what I like to tell myself) the technique of impersonating my gorgeous Actress’s unique accent on my last show as well as every nuance and movement she made, I was prepared to be the star pupil speaking for, um, well, rather, not speaking for my newest lovely Actress whose character had temporarily lost her voice in the episode. 

Still, she had a few speaking lines at the beginning and the end of the show…  Certainly I could brilliantly replicate her (four) vocalized and (four) mute scenes!  And transferring all my copious notes from the previous day’s script, I once again pushed my bookish eyeglasses up my nose and studied the precise complex actions I would need to reproduce in order to continue earning my scholarship grant at this glorious institution:

Already seated.

Walks in and sits.

Already seated.

Already seated.

Walks in and sits.

Already seated.

Already seated.

Already seated.

Hunh…

(Talk about an Easy A!!!)

>>><<<

Ironically, there remained yet one more test that I seem to have failed miserably…

In a bizarre Alternate Universe of Elitist Cliques, the sixth-season recurring Background performers had begun to file in, pointing and “whispering” conspiratorially to each other.  As the previous Second Team Queen had demanded that one section of the audience seating be taped off for the exclusivity of the stand-ins during camera blocking days, She Who Made the Rules was notably absent, and “just who the hell was the new redhead with the ponytail?”  (Honestly, for people who make a living pantomiming on camera, they couldn’t have been louder.)

“Welcome, Penny!” the Homecoming Court of blondes gathered and smiled affectedly like a happy lynch mob.  “We’re sooo glad to have you here!” they chimed in unison as my ears began to redden yet again.  “We hear you’re replacing *insert name*.”

“I am!” I replied cheerily, eyeballing the lighting grid above for a silently descending ropey noose.  “But trust me, she and I are nothing alike” I added hopefully helpfully.

“Yeah, we noticed…” their fearless leader tilted her head eerily to one side as all the little hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.  “OK!  So let’s have a super-duper great season together!” Miss Congeniality cheered before returning to her self-appointed duties of wrangling new BG performers away from the taped-off area.

>>><<<

Quietly bending my ear, the unofficial Second Team Homecoming King suggested that I really ought to hang out for the official catered meal at 4pm as the prior Queen always did and hover around for the entire show all night as she had always done.

And there it was:  my final exam for the first week at the prestigious private Network Academy:

A:  Obey obediently.

B:  Obey obediently (but fester internally).

C:  Fester internally (and harbor resentment).

D:  Find my voice and just ASK someone who’s actually in charge.

Boldly (mentally) circling “D” (in ink!), I strode up to my Second AD (slash prom date) and asked meekly, “So, um, OK to go home?” to which he smiled happily:

“Go!  Enjoy!  Be free!”

Wallowing in gratitude for the work (and hoping to keep my grades up!),

~Geeky P

Sit. SPEAK!

Suffering from an acute case of Stockholm Syndrome, I panicked at the blinking red light on my cell phone – an eerie demonic glow emanating from my purse indicating a missed call from one of three potential new employers…

I had come to identify with my current captors, knew exactly what was expected of me in order to sustain a regular feeding schedule and prevent psychological trauma, and had finally grown accustomed to the physical long-term bladder control required for staying on stage at all times and keeping my owners happy! 

So at the sight of the red light, I couldn’t help but cower at what fresh new hell might await me on the other end of the voice mail, what rolled-up newspaper awaited my puppy nose, what “rules” my new “family” might demand if they snapped a leash on me and eventually adopted me as their own…!

Eager to please as always though, I returned the call salivating like a Great Dane at the opportunity for continued employment, and hearing the voice of a Producer who actually hired me back in the nineties, I slobbered all over her in a desperate attempt to help her remember who I was.  She had 22 episodes of a Network series lined up which she dangled in front of me like a Milk-Bone; but refusing to hand over the show until I essentially rolled over, showed her my soft underbelly and agreed to take a meeting at Sony Pictures Studios, I drooled relentlessly while she checked her calendar for a free moment the following Tuesday.

>>><<<

Whilst I vaguely recalled the general path to Culver City and the Overland Gate (where Cecilia (my car) had died twice due to an old battery); I mapped out to the best of my abilities the general direction we needed to go.  “Since we shared a bit of drama together there, I suspect you’ll know the way” I told Cecilia, as we headed confidently into traffic an hour and a half early.  (I’m a Capricorn, shoot me.)

And sure enough, familiar sites came to mind as we motored along.  Tooling down one street to the next, here a 7-Eleven convenience store, there another one I recognized a few blocks further, a third popping up from my olden days of always stopping for a Big Gulp of Diet Coke in the morning; clearly we were on the right path.  And making a right at the light which seemed so, well, right at the moment, Cecilia idled most satisfactorily pleased with herself as I read the sign above:

“Twentieth Century Fox”

Crap!

With another ten minutes or so ahead (felt like an hour), I eventually wheeled Cecilia into the Sony main gate; identification at the ready for the Security Check.  And with an “I’m-an-idiot-newbie-on-the-lot” orange high-lighted zigzag map in hand, I meandered on foot in the heat (lost again, until a kind maintenance crew took pity on me) towards the designated Barrymore building.  And passing Stage 30, I happily recalled the sense memory of spying a set being built for “Men in Black II” in 2002; the “he can do no wrong in my book” Mr. Will Smith’s luxury trailer parked just outside back then.

“What’s he like?” I had Ethel Mertzed a crew member who was taking a smoke break away from his construction team.

“Helluva nice guy!” the builder had smiled. 

So with renewed puppy-like joy at returning to a studio lot so often filled with Real Live Movie Stars, I traipsed over to meet with my potential new employer, only to horrifically discover that she wasn’t yet in the office and I was a solid half hour early…

Crap!

>>><<<

With the meeting going as well as could be expected –- me presenting her with my most recent job line-up like a loyal Labrador bringing her master’s (mistresses’?) slippers -- she shook my paw appreciatively for fetching myself all the way to Culver City. 

“We did interview one other person” she spoke gently, “but let me discuss this with our First AD and hopefully I’ll get back to you by the end of the day” she smiled, Milk-Bone balanced precariously on the tip of my nose, leaving me hungry and somewhat cross-eyed.

>>><<<

By late afternoon, the texts from friends who had rallied to my support were already flooding in, each one affectionately sniffing around to find out if I had booked the job; but as I was still in the process of chasing my tail I had nothing to offer by way of good news or bad. 

“It will be what it will be” I replied, adopting a Zen-esque attitude, focusing on nothing more in the moment than completing my previous blog post; my content kitty companion napping carefree by my side.

>>><<<

Hearing the cell phone emit a “restricted” ring tone at 8:30pm, I knew it had to be my Federal Agent friend “Rose”, and answering with a casual “hey” I immediately asked if we might chat in fifteen minutes or so, as I was rapidly close to publishing a new entry on my blog.

“I guess I could call you back in fifteen minutes…” the Producer from my meeting at Sony suggested.

Crap!

Explaining that I only knew one person with a restricted caller I.D., I apologized profusely (slobbering once again), as she laughed at my antics and metaphorically patted me on the head approvingly.   

“I’m at a friend’s house, an Actor actually, who’s the only person I know with the same ring tone set-up!” she added apparently amused.  (Did my heightened olfactory senses perhaps detect a glass of wine on her breath over the phone?  We shall never know.) 

“So we’d like to offer you the series, if you’d be willing to take it” she continued pleasantly, as visions of squeaky chew toys danced in my head.

“I’m all yours!” I responded happily, finally bouncing the imaginary Milk-Bone joyously off my nose and clutching the treat eagerly between my teeth.

>>><<<

Looking forward to learning new tricks, excited to meet my next “family”, but already missing my last master’s (mistresses’?) voice,

~Stockholm Syndrome Sheltered P

Karma

Mining for comedy like a forty-niner in gold rush territory, our Director dug deeper into the cavern of our brilliantly scripted dialogue always searching for that extra nugget of humor.  “Do you think there’s any merit to having the person standing behind you sigh heavily in the middle of this speech?” she asked my gorgeous Actress, who paused momentarily before smiling and nodding sagaciously.  “Let’s just try that” they agreed, as I stepped quietly into place for rehearsal.

Having been “uninvited” back to my last series, I wasn’t feeling particularly self-confident.  I’d been booted for my apparent abhorrent inability to deliver the jokes as hoped for by the previous execs, had arrogantly turned down three other offers for sit-coms under the assumption that I had a gig to return to, and since all the ADs I knew had already booked most of their stand-ins for the new season, my future in television was looking depressingly bleak.

So upon hearing my cue in the dialogue to emit a verbal exhale of exasperation, I sighed heavily from a mental state of pure honesty. 

“That’s great!” our Director beamed as the crew laughed out loud.  “Would you be willing to do that for the show?” she asked excitedly, my lovely Actress nodding once again with a smile in approval over her shoulder.

And with the tacit understanding that I was nothing more than a glorified Background Performer, I still agreed happily, knowing that at the very least my on-camera appearance might be a fun surprise down the road for my family and friends.

>>><<<

Having stayed up until 1AM ironing ‘grown-up’ shirts to present to the Wardrobe Department (what can I say, I live in jeans and t-shirts for the purposes of work), I presented four thoughtful choices to our Head of Costumes whom I’ve known for years and who (with perhaps some subtle coercion) agreed that the coral colored blouse I really wanted to wear would be a lovely stand-out choice, elegantly contrasted with the chunky blue and green necklace I brought as an accompaniment (a magnificent piece I ordered on-line during a hiatus week after a few cocktails!)

And as any Background Performer might do after approval from Wardrobe, I donned my clothing in the ladies restroom, clasped on my jewelry, and humbly refreshed my make-up under the brutal fluorescent lighting with a couple of my female crew members who also wanted to look pretty for our audience.

“Let’s have a good show!” we hugged each other, heading off to our designated starting marks on stage.

>>><<<

With a very special surprise guest star hidden from view until his big reveal, I stood in line with the rest of my BG people, and was delighted to hear our audience erupt into show-stopping cheers and applause at the sight of my Actress’ co-star who had shared the spotlight with her years ago on her most famous sit-com.  And as the first two scenes were virtually continuous (my sigh occurring in the second scene) we had nothing more than a brief “camera reset” before heading into my little bit.  

So upon hearing my cue, I rolled my eyes and let out an audible exhale, as my Actress reacted and the audience roared with laughter.  (YAY!) 

On the second “take”, I sighed again, accidentally made eye contact with her, and as I cowered in the moment the audience roared yet again.  (DOUBLE YAY!)

So not surprisingly, by our third “take” the audience knew exactly what to expect and were already laughing in anticipation as we finished the scene.  And moving the cameras once more for different close-up coverage in a “pick-up” shot, I sighed for the last time as the audience continued their heartening laughter. 

“Moving on!” our First AD shouted, as my tiny contribution to television history came to its humble yet joyful end.

>>><<<

“I have to check before I can release you” our Second Second AD (never understood why they aren’t called a Third AD) told me gratuitously, as she wrangled the rest of the BG people back to their holding area.  “Where can I find you?” she asked sweetly, allowing me the freedom as a crew member to roam about on my own.

“I’m just gonna have a ciggy outside the door of Craft Services” I told her as we walked along together. 

To the best of my recollection, I was halfway through my American Spirit menthol light when she reappeared talking into her ear piece.  “Copy that.  Stand by” she added as she strode up purposefully towards me.  “The First AD just asked if you wouldn’t mind doing him a small favor.” 

(Really?)  “Sure, how can I help?”

“He was wondering if you would be willing to tear up your stand-in voucher and agree to sign a Day Player (guest star) Contract.”

And as an entertainment professional person in Hollywood, I responded the only way that seemed appropriate in the moment and immediately burst into tears.

“I think she’ll sign the contract!” my Second Second whispered into her mike as I clutched her in a lung-crushing cheerful weepy bear hug.

>>><<<

Collecting myself emotionally (as well as my physical belongings), I was prepared to leave the stage mid-show when our Director caught my eye.  And racing together for a quick embrace I thanked her for how her brilliant impromptu bit had landed me the contract.

“You can’t leave!” she squealed happily, eyeing my backpack and extra wardrobe in hand.  “You have to stay for your curtain call!”

OMG!!!

>>><<<

“Let’s hear it for the ‘Disgruntled Customer’…!” our Warm-up guy ad libbed my untitled character as he announced my name. 

And waving to the spectators, I ran on stage to the spot where my AD was indicating a stopping point with his foot, whilst simultaneously clapping for the rest of the cast.

(May I say it again?)

OMG!!!

>>><<<

Invited to stay for celebratory wine and beer after the show, I gathered my wits again and politely declined any alcohol (many of you know why); and lugging my baggage, I headed toward the parking structure along with our studio audience when I saw the paper lying on the ground.  

I’d never seen the programs that are printed out and given to our visitors, but as someone had dropped theirs I scooped it up to have a look at later.  And rooting for my car keys, I ponied up to the elevators.

The night had been so surreal:  fun, exciting, (not to mention profitable), etc., but if I thought for one single second that the bizarreness had come to an end, I was horribly mistaken…

“YOU were in the show!” a blonde lady suddenly shrieked and pointed at me.  “SHE was IN the SHOW!” the lady continued excitedly to everyone around us as all manner of frenzied weirdness ensued.  “You were SO FUNNY!  I could TOTALLY relate to your character!” she cheered, Reverse-Ethel-Mertzing me, whilst sharing a story about being stuck in line behind someone at the drug store.

“You were HILARIOUS!” another Ethel Mertz piped up, adding her own personal opposite tale of having been “sighed at” when she took too long at the grocery checkout stand. 

“Did you all know that Penny stands in for the lead actress?” Ethel #3 chimed in out of the blue, staring at me with stalker-like, saucer-wide eyes.

And finally wending our way to fill up an open elevator carriage, two teenaged Ethel girls who were waiting for the next ride up, gaped open-mouthed and full-on Mertzed me from a distance whilst waving and screaming “Hi!” frenetically as I stupidly waved back.

What the…?

>>><<<

Unable to make sense of the world as I am always trying to do, I climbed into my car and drove home to my sanctuary.

And pulling out the discarded program from our show as I lolled in my pajamas, I couldn’t help but smile giddily at the back page.  Under the list of staff and crew, my name appeared as a stand-in – and it was even spelled correctly!!!

Living in gratitude (and hopefully residual checks for the rest of my life!),

~Big Sigh P