I’m going to tell you a story. And I’m not going to tell you the name of the actor in the story because, quite frankly, he is rather embarrassed by the whole situation and it’s hard enough for him to sit here and write this without worrying about anonymous judgement. Plus he should have known better. So all names have been changed to protect the identities of the innocent and any similarities to real world people or events are purely coincidental. Especially to the writer of this blog.

This story has three main characters. The first is the aforementioned actor. The second is the rather large and ugly ego of the aforementioned actor. The third is a pair of shoes that should have been thrown away weeks ago. Seriously Tim, throw the shoes away.

One day several weeks ago the actor received an email from a casting agency who claimed he had submitted for a previous project they were working on. The message read like many of these emails do. It named a location and time for the actor to audition for a commercial. And the actor did his homework….sort of. He looked up the casting agency, located in Pennsylvania. He sort of checked out the location where he would be expected to arrive 15 minutes early. And then EGO, the second character in this melodrama, entered via the trap door center stage. Ego whispered in the actor’s ear:

“Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out. You’ve done this a thousand times. What’s happening on Facebook?”

And the actor, comfortable in his illusion of experience, spent an hour coming up with a clever status update rather than doing his research.

And then the day of the audition arrived. As the actor started to dress himself he realized that he had forgotten his audition shoes on the set of his last short film. He felt a cold chill creep down his spine. Fortunately, Ego was close at hand to sooth the actors fear.

“Don’t worry! It’s just going to be another silly audition for a small role in a half thought out concept. You’re the ACTOR! Why don’t you wear the black sneakers instead?”

“Really?” asked the actor. “The ones with the holes near the little toe and the frayed laces?”

“Sure! They’ll be so impressed with you they won’t even look at your feet.”

“Okay. Then maybe I’ll do some vocal work for a few minutes.”

“Um, yeah, you could do that. Or you could check out this awesome youtube video that just went viral off the chain!”

30 unproductive minutes later he walked to the train, in his awful sneakers, and rode to the appointed stop in Chelsea. And then the actor meandered down 24th street towards the Hudson with Ego holding his hand telling him how good his work is.

They arrived together at the location. They walked down the long hallway to the elevator. The private elevator. For the company. Private. Elevator. Ego hesitated.

“Hey man, I’m going to go get a latte. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yeah man, I’ll be right back. You do your thang’ actor man!”

And then the actor was alone. He rode up the private elevator and signed in with the secretary in the waiting room. He sat down in the comfortable, plush leather seats, underneath a plethora of prestigious awards and recognitions. His knee bounced at roughly 300 mph. Across from him sat another actor of roughly the same age and look. This other actor looked great in his new shoes.

Twenty minutes later the actor exited the private elevator. Ego was waiting in the lobby.

“Hey dude, how’d it go?”

“Well, the place was huge, I was totally off my game, and the casting assistant definitely took note of my crappy vans. Why didn’t we set out clothes out the night before? Or spend some time warming up this morning? Or look this place up?”

Ego shrugged.

“Don’t look at me man, I’m just the Ego. You’re supposed to be the actor here.”

The shoes have since been replaced.