You may be thinking, “Day job? But Joe, you just got cast in a professional theatrical production! Don’t you spend your days wandering through willow-filled parks wearing a beret, smoking cigarettes, and reciting your lines for the ducks in the nearby pond, emotionally preparing yourself for a riotous evening rehearsal where you will undoubtedly become so lost in your character that you will not be able to find your way out again without a few midnight drinks at the local pub with your poet-friends?”

To you, good sir or madam, I say, “I know, right?”

Sadly, in these United States we are not nearly civilized enough to provide young actors with enough financial support to allow them to solely focus on the great service they provide humanity. More specifically, I get a hundred dollar stipend for my entire run of shows, and that compensation is as good as or better than that offered by most of the other productions for which I auditioned. So, unless you’ve figured out a way to live on one hundred dollars every two months, you might want to consider a day job.

Unfortunately, the job market is not overflowing with positions for under-qualified staff who must work around audition, rehearsal, and performance schedules.

My initial instinct was to turn back to theatre, where I thought I could find some interesting daytime work while staying close to the industry. Of course, having worked as an intern at a theatre in the past, I should have known that the vast majority of low-level theatre “jobs” are actually all internships, because, if there is one rule that storefront Chicago theatres have learned, it is “Don’t pay someone if they’ll work for free. Or for a hundred dollar stipend.”

So avoid the storefront theatres. Think bigger. Who pays their employees in theatre? Steppenwolf? The Goodman? They must hire daytime workers, right?

Sort of. All their entry level jobs are part-time, and most of them are vaguely-titled positions called something like “Ticket Sales Associate.” I found an opening at one such position at the prestigious Chicago Shakespeare Theater on Navy Pier. I made the mistake of reading “Ticket Sales Associate” as “Box Office Employee,” a job I have done before and would happily do again. I called their hiring office and spoke to a very nice woman who said that no, the job was not in the box office, but in a call center selling season ticket subscriptions. This was not really what I was looking for (for I, dear reader, hate telemarketers as much as you do), but beggars cannot be choosers, so I went in for an interview.

I will not bore you with all the details of the interview, but here are a few highlights:

I did not meet with the nice phone lady, but instead a man who did not know who I was or why I had been called in for an interview.

After exchanging pleasantries, he said, “All right, I’m a customer and I’m interested in buying season tickets. Sell me on them.”

I said, “In that situation, I suppose I would say that—”

“No, just tell me like I’m the customer.”

“Okay, well, I would say—”

“No. I’m the customer.”

“Okay. You’re the customer.” Then, since I had not been trained because I was still applying for the job, I repeated what information I could remember from the website about the upcoming season and the packages available.

“Don’t tell them about the cheaper packages,” he said.

“What?” I said.

“Always try to sell them on all the shows first.”

“Okay.”

“So?” he said, indicating to me.

“Good to know,” I said.

“No, let’s here the pitch.”

The interview went on this way for some time. He would make me pretend to sell tickets. I would. He would tell me why what I did was wrong. I would say okay.

“What if I said I wasn’t interested at all?” he said.

“I would say that I’m sorry to hear that and give them my contact information in case they reconsider.”

“No, I’m the customer.”

“Okay. I’m sorry to hear that. Here is my contact information in case you reconsider.”

“Never take no for an answer.”

“Okay.”

“So?”

“Never take no for an answer.”

“No, pitch me.”

The interview ended with him telling me that they actually only needed people on the evening shift, thus making the position not a day job at all. I also would get paid on commission.

I did not hear back from them.

It’s okay.

It wasn’t a good fit.

Now I spend my days trying to get retail stores on my street to call me back. They never do.

The moral of the story is that if you have a job that pays money, please contact me. I would like it.

Now I’m going to go recite my lines to some ducks.