My Lana-Turner-at-Schwab's Moment

I was just walking to the post office when a woman with a clipboard said, "Excuse me!" I've been trying to be polite to chuggers—charity muggers—because my neighborhood is rife with them, so I smiled and paused. What would it be? Hungry children? The environment? Gay marriage? No, she was a casting agent looking for real people for a commercial, for a bank, shooting next week. At that point, I remembered how I had regretted in the right-hand column that now that I have time to do a little acting, no one is asking.* And then I recalled that I have a fondness for the bank because it has used pugs in its advertising (you may recall seeing a pug face at airports, with "Love" or "Loathe" across it). And then I started giggling. The woman, Nadette, asked me why I was giggling. I explained that I wasn't sure whether I should be flattered that I look like "real people." "As opposed to what?" she replied, which was a valid point. Her assistant turned on the video camera and she asked a lot of questions: Have I acted before, am I a member of SAG, what do I do, where do I live and where am I from, what is my native language (at which point I did more than giggle), and so on. She showed me two images—an old photo of immigrants standing in a line and a drawing of office machinery—and asked which one spoke to me. Mark my words, she was liking what I was selling. THIS IS HOW DREAMS COME TRUE, PEOPLE.

* Not that anyone was asking before.