Sellevision - Augusten Burroughs [58]
Max nodded.
“Also, when you say ‘safe for all cats, even long-haired breeds,’ don’t make that sound so serious, just lighten it up a little bit.”
Max nodded again, scribbling a note on his script.
“One last thing, ‘not available in Florida’ should be really fast. Just kind of throw it away.”
“Okay,” Max said, and cleared his throat.
The copywriter leaned back in his chair, took a sip of Diet Pepsi and said to the agency producer, “I think this guy’s gonna work. He really seems to get the script. This is gonna be pretty cool.”
The engineer pushed a button on his console and said, “Tender Tasties, take twenty-four.” He pointed at Max and mouthed the words, “You’re on.” Max again recited the advertising copy.
This was Max’s fourteenth voice-over audition. So far, he hadn’t landed a real spot. But so far, nobody had made him do more than three takes. Maybe this would be the break he needed.
“You just have to be patient, it’s nothing personal. It’s all about finding the right voice for the right product. Eventually you’ll land something,” Laurie had told him on the phone the other day.
“Yeah, but Laurie, what if it doesn’t happen? I mean, if I can’t even land an advertising job, what chance will I have of ever getting back on the air?”
“Just go to the audition and do your best.”
After Max read the spot, he saw the copywriter beckoning him to come back into the main room. Max removed the earphones and walked through the two soundproof doors into the main room.
“Dude, that was great,” the copywriter said. “Really great— you rock.”
Relieved, Max smiled. “Yeah, I was okay?”
“Totally.”
The producer slid a contract in front of Max and handed him a pen. Max would get paid $250 for his demo, and thousands of dollars if he was chosen. He filled out the contract, providing his name, address, and social security number, along with his agent’s name and address.
“So, do you think it’s gonna happen?” Max asked. “I mean, do you think it’s really gonna air?”
“Gotta split, I’m already late for an edit, take care, man,” the copywriter said as he got up from his chair and left the room.
The engineer tapped at his computer keyboard, removing breaths and pauses from Max’s reading. The producer shrugged his shoulders. “I think it’ll probably air, yeah. Of course you never know with these things until it’s actually on the air, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t.”
Max handed the contract and the pen back to the producer, extending his hand. “Great, well, thanks a lot, it was really nice working with you.”
“Same here. Take care, Max.”
“Okay then. Well, I’ll see you around.”
“Uh huh,” the producer said, looking over the contract.
Once he was outside the ad agency, Max smiled broadly. “Yes!” he shouted, raising his fist in the air. His luck was finally turning, he could feel it. Standing on the corner of Third Avenue and Forty-sixth Street, Max closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the sun on his face. He exhaled deeply, a huge sense of relief filling him. As he walked toward Grand Central Station, Max could not help but imagine what his life might be like if he continued to get work as a voice-over talent. Regular trips into New York City, royalty checks, perhaps even a big, national television campaign—maybe for someone like Burger King or Kmart.
For the first time in weeks, Max felt excited, not depressed. As he walked, he repeated the ad copy he had just read: “New Tender Tasties, the first cat food that protects cats from fleas by working internally with the natural digestive process.”
“I was pretty good,” he admitted with a smile. “I really did okay.”
A
s she sank down into the steaming hot bath, inhaling the soothing aroma of Mandarin Orange and Cedar, Peggy Jean smoothed the rich lather of Joyce’s Choice Mid-Life Oasis Foaming Bath Purée over her arms, enjoying the luxury of the moment. For the first time in weeks, thanks to Debby Boone, Peggy