No business in show business (final chapter)

So, there I was ... uh ... I mean, there was the anonymous, sort-of-middle-age woman we've named V, all dressed up in her new white capris with really cute blue embroidery down one leg, because Coldwater Creek had a fabulous 70 percent off sale, and girls, you really should check them out occasionally, they've gotten much more stylish. ... Now, where was I?

Oh yeah, so there was V, all dressed up, made up -- hair actually lying in curls on her head rather than each one reaching individually for the sky -- in white sandals with toenails done in a color that she'd thought was more coral-y when she picked it out, but really turned out way too orange-y, but she didn't want to hurt the salon lady's feelings. ... Lord, I may never get through this story.

So, anyway, V had driven to Wilmington, N.C., to audition for a role in an upcoming North Carolina lottery commercial. An agent who had seen V speak at the Baby Boomer Diva Nation Business Women's Boot Camp had sent her this audition opportunity, for which V was grateful, although somewhat fermished, if you'll excuse the expression.

The part was that of a minimart clerk, who sells a man a ticket for the new lottery (the Jumbo Game), and the voice-over says something like, "Don't just live large, live jumbo!" Meanwhile, the guy buys a gallon-sized drink, a hot dog as large as a 15-inch sub and gasoline for his car, which is the size of a two-story house and has a dog like Clifford the Big Red Dog (ask your toddler) sticking its head out the window.

Sounds great, doesn't it? And, besides the main guy, the clerk is the only one with a line: "Yeah. I know." Huge, right?

So, there she was, in a deceptively dinky, unmarked and dilapidated hut on a residential side street in Wilmington -- that brought to mind a drug-infested dwelling she'd seen on "Cops" -- waiting her turn, and the somewhat bored and superior looking casting director lady had just said, "Are you ready?"

V answered that she was, because what the hell, she'd made the drive, and she did look pretty good, after all. She followed the woman through a door in the back of what she'd thought was a one-room house, into another room where there was a camera, a long table and a window. The woman stopped suddenly, held out her hand, and not even looking at V, said, "Head shots?"

V stared at her, and smiled, because her mother had taught her always to be polite, even to people who evidently had sudden bouts of Tourette's. She said politely, "Pardon me?" The woman finally glanced up, and repeated impatiently, "Head shots!"

V didn't know whether this was a true/false question, or an agree/disagree thing, or simply something that all casting directors yell at auditioners, so to be safe, she just kept smiling, although her face was surely reflecting her desperation.

Finally, completely exasperated, the woman waved V over to stand behind the table -- the minimart "counter" -- while mumbling agitatedly, "Who doesn't bring head shots to an audition?!"

And, V finally understood that she meant photos, apparently of V's head, which V almost never photographed.

The woman aimed the camera and then read the line immediately preceding the minimart clerk's line, which was something like: "Can I get a Jumbo lottery ticket? Oh, and gas on pump seven." But in her nervousness, V interrupted the woman's line and said her own line, which resulted in, "Can I get a Jumbo lottery ticket?" "Yeah. I know."

Which made no sense at all, as the woman's face clearly expressed.

"Sorry," said V.

"You're a moron," said the woman's face.

They had to do it again. Eventually, V sweated her hair out of its perfect curly do, into its normal frizzy halo.

Then, the woman asked V to do three "reaction" shots, no lines, just watch this guy walk by and arrive at his gi-normous car. But, during the first reaction, V realized her head was bouncing up and down as she "watched" this invisible guy walk by, so her guy evidently had rabbitlike tendencies, which really tickled V, and she burst out laughing, which the director thought was V's attempt at a "reaction" -- a completely inappropriate one -- which the woman's face reflected snidely, causing V to laugh even harder.

V was still laughing as she walked out the door, knowing that the role of minimart clerk would never be hers, but also knowing that she wasn't minimart clerk material anyway. Now, if they had a part for a princess ...

And V went to work immediately, finding head shots of Shania Twain.

Vicki Wentz's column, which appears here on Sundays, is published in newspapers across the country. She is a high school teacher who lives in Chapel Hill, N.C. Readers may contact her at vwentz@mindspring.com.