Witness

I got vindicated at work last Sunday. It was my first day back at Starbucks since the audition, and I knew I'd have a lot to answer to. I'd been hyping myself up there for almost as long as I had been training, so most everyone knew. Some even still from last year. The wounds were still open and sore, but I had gotten a lot of it out of my system. I just didn't want to have to field the sympathy from others. More than anything, I just wanted to continue moving forward. On the drive over I semi-justified it with myself that this was indeed the situation I was heading into: Deep sympathy. Quite honestly, it was exactly what I had been asking for. Cheer with me if I make it, share a round and curse the fuckers if I don't, remember that? I had buttered my bed, and it was time for me to sleep in it.

I got more than I bargained for.

No one mentioned anything to me as I entered the store. Even talking with Jon, the weekend Shift Supervisor, in the back room I had to remind him that I auditioned. I was beginning to feel like the shift was indeed going to be cake, that perhaps the hype died out before I even got there and normalcy would reign. Took my place as supervisor and began to count the safe. Not five minutes into the shift, a customer walks in: Female, large fashion sunglasses with a white frame, pink shirt, a pair of crutches and a bum right leg, and she's not a step into the store when she looks directly at me and blurts out,

“Didn't I see you on TV?”

Not to sound all braggy and boisterous and, quite frankly, actor-ly, but I have been asked that many times before, mostly under the concept of me introducing myself as an actor and the person wondering aloud if I've done anything they've seen, however occasionally my looks have gotten me mistaken for some other well-to-do actor with something respectable to show for their effort. On the other hand, in my defense, I did shoot a commercial and a training film in the past year, and although I haven't seen either of them in popular media, there existed a remote but distinct possibility she had been exposed to either one. So, honestly, I had no idea how to properly answer the question.

“Uh,... I don't know,”, I responded quite chagrined. “I hope so. Was it a commercial?”
“No, it was the news. You auditioned for that blue man thing.”

I just about lost my shit. My face exploded like a supernova and I started bouncing like a kid after too much candy.

“You saw that?”
“Yeah it was on the news last night. They showed the people trying out for Blue Man and I saw you up there drumming.”
Crutch still expertly tucked under her right arm, she pointed across the store to an imaginary TV set.
“I said to my kids, 'See that guy? That's the Starbucks guy! He's trying out for Blue Man!”

There was a camera. The memory of it got lost in the bile and therefore was considered moot, but there was indeed a camera. While we were sitting inside the theater, lining up one by one in a little corridor to the left of audience seating, open and free that you could see the pipes and tubes wound round the scaffolding, anxiously waiting for our chance to be on stage, a rather large man came by to address us. We were all bubbling with anticipation like lost ships at sea and he appeared like a big huge rotund lighthouse. He knew this and first apologized for being a tease since he had nothing to do with our impending judgment but then explained there was a camera crew there that was going to be filming us, that we wouldn't have an audience per se, but that some people would be watching, and to ask us to be quiet during the auditions. Come to think of it, there was a film crew shooting the outside of Briar Street while we were lining up outside as well. I had commented to the people around me, a wonderful little family who traveled all the way from Milwaukee to see the show and the son was auditioning as well, that last year a local news crew came by to get footage of the cattle call and even interviewed a female auditionee. This crew had no identifiable logos on any of their equipment nor on their staff, whereas last year it was plainly Channel 7 who showed up. It could've been Cable Access or even a well-organized prank set up by the Blue Men. The running joke in line amongst us shaky hopefuls was that they would use the footage during their performances, editing it quite tragically hilariously while still maintaining our dignity or perhaps creating an homage to their kindred soul Moby and his video for “Bodyrock” But no. They were on the level.

I couldn't stop bouncing. Or grinning like a complete and utter dumbstruck idiot.

“Oh my god, that's so cool! You made my week, miss!”

And she had. With all the crap I put myself through, the building myself up, the focus and training, the unashamed overhyping, it was nice to know I acutally got to reach someone, especially since I didn't get the gig. Y'know that thing people say? About if what they've done touched just one person's life, then it was worth it? It usually comes to mind as self-justification after undergoing some colossal blunder and, quite frankly, always sounded like the Token Speech for Second Place.

It's not.

It's true.

Thank you, Mystery Lady. Your timely intervention fueled the cockles of my heart for years to come. I hope your leg gets better.