Excuse Me, You're Calling From Where???

So I was sitting at home a week and a bit ago watching my brother play Guitar Hero 3 when I noticed that I had missed a call on the cell. After watching him successfully rock out to another 5 star video performance, I went about listening to the message and it went a little something like this:

"Hi James, this is Olivera from Max Agency, you met one of our scouts during the Jazz Festival down in the Beaches and I was calling to set up an appointment for you to come in and meet with us. Give me a call at 416..........."

Wait, what the hell did I just hear? I wasn't quite sure I heard that right above the Guitar Hero so I played it again and yeah, it would appear as though I had received call from a modeling agency... I blinked a few times and thought to myself, where in the hell she would have gotten my phone num... !!! I shook my fist as I realized exactly who had given my phone number out...

I'd only been working with two other guys that whole weekend so it was a simple process of elimination. I called Jeremy and asked him if he'd ever heard of a Max Modeling Agency. I heard him chuckle on the other end of the line, instantly confirming my suspicion. He could only say, "I may have been around when the talent scouts were around but I can't really say how your information got passed on to them". I told him that he didn't have to explain and that I had a pretty good idea of who had given my info out.

So I sat there and thought to myself, why in the hell would he have done that? Then the obvious answer came, "because you're so fun and easy to have a laugh with (at)". *D'uh* The next question I asked myself was, what the hell are you going to do about it? So I consulted with the girlfriends and the overwhelming response was "go for it". So I thought to myself, why the hell not? What's the worst that can come of this, I get told I'm not what a modeling agency was looking for? Hell, I could have told you that before having to be asked. : P

So I called and set up an appointment for this past Monday. I was told to dress somewhat professionally, meaning no jeans or sneakers. I figured I'd do it up and wear my new shirt I that I'd bought on a spur of the moment fashion upgrade shopping trip with my friend Niki. Hell, if ever a time to show off, or at least make light of, an attempt at fashion, this was it. So I showed up for my 1230 appointment looking as dapper as I could for mid day. I figured the meeting would only take half an hour at most and I would have more than enough time to get to a far more pressing engagement, a hockey game at 1400 vs a rival station.

I arrived in the office and was greeted by a smartly dressed dude who was obviously but not flagrantly gay. He was nice and took note of the fact that I had arrived. I sat down in the office and made note of the fish tank behind the receptionist's desk. I thought there was a toy crocodile or alligator floating in the middle of it, but upon closer inspection, I found it to be real. Couple that with the odd cinematic gladiator style symphony orchestral music, it was just a touch odd, but not altogether unsettling, I began putting everything into Zoolander perspective.

Shortly after my arrival, the guy behind the desk was replaced by the actual receptionist. She had a pretty face and wore smart, and very bum friendly black dress pants and a very flattering dark apple green top which complimented her natural features. I thought, hey now, things are picking up a bit. She made little attempt to acknowledge my presence. I figured, hell she sees so many "beautiful" people coming in through the doors, what was another face to her? I was the only person in the office at the time so I settled into a 2003 issue of Men's Health.

After a short while, this pompous looking tit walked in followed by a larger, solely due to girth, tit who I assumed was his agent. Small tit had a very high forehead. Think mine but twice as high. He had long, bottom of the ear length hair which he had slicked back. He wore a tarty little green zip up and annoying slim, TAPERED, and I'm assuming $200 designer jeans with some silly criss-cross pattern on the back of the legs. His shoes were of the pointed variety which made me, for the few seconds I looked at them, want to use them to stab him in his beady eyes.

When the receptionist asked for his name, he bladed his body to the right as if at the end of a "dear God please one day land me on this" catwalk, turned his head ever so slightly to the left and said in some bastardized mutation of an English or Australian accent "Dipsy McLightLoafers", or something close to that. I couldn't help but let my left brow arch up in absolute bemusement. I quickly retreated to the mag lest he see my utter contempt. It was at this point too that I noticed what appeared to be an dirt spot on the face of the receptionist. I just found it a touch odd that said spot just happened to follow an outline of a 'stache... I knew at this point, I had a blog post coming.

As I sat and waited for my turn, a middle aged woman who was almost as snazzily dressed as yours truly walked in and took a seat almost directly across from me. She checked in and sat down and proceeded to ignore everything else, so I did likewise to her. Shortly after Ms. Middleagenoring, a younger teen girl with a little punky look to her arrived with her very middle class very white mom and her older sister who spoke with ZERO tonal or volume control. I couldn't happen but notice the troupe was quickly being filled and the big top would be in full swing very shortly.

As the latest additions to the gong show sat down, I couldn't help but notice the older sister. It quickly dawned on me that there was a Ben Stiller theme to this office as she reminded me more of Warren from "There's Something About Mary". While she wasn't wearing earphones to soothe her into the room you could tell she was out of her comfort zone. I think she must have found the whole experience as comedic as I did. We looked at each other and I smiled at her and she smiled back at me half shy and half giddy. I figured this was as "real" of an interaction I was going to experience so I continued the smile game. It was actually quite fun.

It was now pushing 1300 and I was getting a little impatient but hey, I figured this was how these industry types rolled, so I just went with it. When the receptionist finally got off the phone, she called my pal with the tapered jeans and directed him to an awaiting office. He stood up and looked to the larger tit with his smarmy vest, plastic rectangle frame glasses and annoying salt and pepper beard and pony tail and beckoned, "daddy..."... I blinked repeatedly over the same spot on the page I was reading. I then looked up and had a giant smile and giggle waiting for me.

It was getting a bit much for me and my bladder was reminding me that I had consumed a large amount of water prior to my departure for the agency so I asked for directions to the bathroom. After walking down the hall I came up to the bathrooms, but my attention was quickly diverted to the matching set of cock and balls couches in the waiting area outside the bathrooms. As you can see above, there is no other description for them. If I didn't have just cause to wonder how crazy, eccentric or gay I'd have to be to survive in this industry, I did now.

After returning to the reception area, I kindly asked Miss Stainedlip when I could expect to be seen as I had a very pressing professional engagement coming up. She told me that it would only be 5 more minutes. A figure I was amazed that she could come up with seeing as how she didn't place or receive any phone calls or messages to suggest that would be the case. As it turns out, her 5 minutes turned out to be 15 and I was more than annoyed with her.

Finally I got into the office and met with an agent who I thought was young to be in her position, but what the hell did I know. She introduced herself and she actually seemed nice enough and somewhat normal. She started into her shpiel and started asking me some questions about my background, activities, languages, abilities scars, tattoos... I had to cut her off and tell her I had absolutely no experience whatsoever and further more, that this whole thing was a bit of a joke. She looked mildly offended so I clarified explaining to her that I had been the victim of a small practical joke but was going through with it all for the sheer hell of it.

She said that she could see why I may have been signed up by my friends complimenting me on my eyes and the fact that I was really personable and easy going about it all. I just explained to her that I, for the lack of a civilized term, quite frankly didn't give a fuck and was going along with the nothing ventured, nothing gained motto and that if I wasn't what they were looking for, no big deal. When she showed me that some of the contracts they secured for their models added up to $4000 take home per day after agency fees for simple things as a print campaign, I began thinking it might just be a big deal.

We shook hands and she told she'd be in contact with me in 3 or 4 days if the agency liked me for whatever category my goofy mug fit in and we'd go from there. I left her office and quickly took one last survey of the kaleidoscope of krazy I saw before me. I duly took note of one last big grin and noticed the pink triple velcro shoes she was wearing and thought to myself, fuck those are cool. I'd love to see anyone else there try and pull that off.

Fortunately for me, the exit was on my right and my lack of ambiturning ability was hidden from the modeling world for at least another day.