The Agent of Change (Pt. 2)
It's time to face the dragon. And then when it's all done, be thankful for God's permissive will.
Whoa there! You’ll understand where this one begins if you read part one here.
The Agent of Change - Part 2
If you imagine a bird’s eye view reading this, you might have surmised that other areas of my life were in desperate need of attention. And that there was a symbolic stop sign blaring at every corner. I didn’t have that view. Yet.
The conversation that became the instigator of unexpected and unplanned decisions in my life resulted from the simple attempt to have a calm discussion with my agent regarding this trajectory of submissions that were leading into playing mothers when I was still playing sisters or possibly aunts. For any actress reading this - you know. It’s the same old dung that you eventually deal with.
It was a bad day for the agent.
This agency was going through a major shift as the one other owner was departing the island leaving my agent left with it all. Perhaps this was a sweet change, a welcome change, a profitable change. If it was, it appeared as everything but.
It’s also best to state that “Agent” wasn’t a gentle or approachable person in the first place with puppy dog sayings to me like “good girl!”, when I pleased her. [Arf! Arf! Pant-Pant!] Or dismissively sharing with me that my headshot made me look “like an idiot” – direct quote. Just giving you the Monet of experience.
Back to the conversation. I generally remember calling and bringing up the tender topic of age. OY VEY for any actor. I am not sure, but I’ll accede to the strong probability that I may have whined or tripped over words or didn’t carry myself with courageous or confident articulation. But I barreled forward and made it clear that I felt I wasn’t, in fact, being represented appropriately based on the ages and types I was offered as possibility for work.
In effect, yes, I do realize I was saying I didn’t think she was repping me correctly. On her end I’m sure she heard the subtext, “You suck at your job. Do better.” Oh, well. Someone had to bring it up.
It's okay, go ahead and mock: “Oh, boooo hooo!” I know. And that’s basically how my agent responded.
This is where, within approximately one minute, it all took a nasty and manipulative turn. Her tone turned venomous. The snake was poised to bite - which made my voice rise and speak a truth which was, I would soon find out, unforgivable and therefore must be squashed at all costs. I said the unthinkable:
“With all due respect, you have never seen me on stage.”
I find the worst conversations I have put myself in, relationally speaking, have been because I said something out loud that was clearly desired by the other to be kept under wraps in the abyss. Oops.
Let the sparks fly.
This simple fact made her, in her small closet-sized office surrounded by interns, who could hear only her side of the conversation, implode. A cross between Veruca Salt demanding her goose and Violet Beauregarde, swelling up as fat blueberry come to mind. Eruption imminent.
She countered with balled faced lies as she hissed. Her performance aiming for a Tony.
“Stop yelling! Stop screaming at me or I’ll hang up! If you don’t lower your voice…” Etc.
(Yawn.)
I was, of course, angry at this but more so felt I’d landed on some foreign planet. How and why did this just go into outer space, warp speed, to such blatantly fabricated false accusation.
I stopped for complete silence. A long moment.
Then I responded in steely calm by lowering my voice to a whisper for I wasn’t stupid enough not to realize what was really happening and quite simply stated the need to further talk about this.
“STOP YELLING OR I WILL HANG UP THE PHONE! STOP SCREAMING AT ME!”
What a crash course this was in gas lighting mind f*@#ery.
And then, no surprise, she hung up on me.
Now I was fuming. I called back immediately, demanding not to be treated with such disrespect. Ha! Hysterical. I thought, as a client, I deserved respect. L to the O to the L.
“She is not available.”
And all the other automaton BS I am certain you can surmise. I left it there for the day.
The next morning I awoke to an approximately one thousand worded email time-stamped around 12:30am from Agent who sought the opportunity to use me as the outlet for her sad unhappy life (my estimation) by extending her vitriol in written format using every expletive, epithet and accusation she could muster as to how I was just about the most horrible human being ever in existence on the planet and how everything that happened was
“…All your fault.” [Hissssss.]
Well, ok then.
I guess most people like not doing their jobs privately.
That afternoon, I had lunch with a friend who happened to be represented by the same agent. I told him the story. His response?
“Oh, wait. That was you?!”
Uh huh.
It seems there were other clients in the office as well. (I am sure my friend had been fully warned by this witness of my egregious behavior of where not to tread as an actor. I say “actor” because to say human wouldn’t reckon, would it.) [Arf! Arf! Pant-Pant.]
This unknown client “friend” ran with the story. And stories move fast. This one to my appointed luncheon. I reckoned my end of the quickly becoming “infamous” conversation to him. But in the end, who cares? It’s not like anyone’s going to leave their precious hard found representation because a fellow unlucky actor was butchered by voice and email. Them’s the breaks, Kid. That’s showbiz. Hold on, I think my agent’s calling.
Some of you might want to light a match to kerosene near me when I say this next:
OH, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, DEAREST GOD IN HEAVEN FOR YOUR PERMISSIVE WILL.
For I told you this was the first invitation from the blizzard into the desert. I didn’t know it yet. But what I knew was this: things were not “well”. I was not “well”. My spirit had taken some huge hits. These hits weren’t just anywhere. They were in the very center of my most vulnerable points. My creative spirit. My definition, however surface it was at the time, of my Self.
There are times when you just let it all roll off your back (I’d had those), pull up your breeches and hop back on the horse. That was not going to happen this time. Remember that stop sign in the beginning? This leveled me. Any inklings of slowing down or thoughts of “taking a break”, (against the unwritten law of “the biz”), came rushing to the surface of my being; a tidal wave of white flags.
I was being called to begin a long sweat. A deep and long fast. I was going to have to lose my life to save it.
And this Agent of Change through forkéd tongue gave me the gift to see the fork at my feet close up in real time: things must change.
I never spoke to her again. Never replied to the email. That would be a partnership with foolishness. I had to do my own mental and spiritual forgiveness on that. And this is a great example, I believe, of a situation where in-person closure is not required.
For she was not meant to be an agent for a lifetime.
She was sent to be an Agent of Change for the saving of my life.
She was a dragon. She breathed fire. And God allowed that purifying burn so that I’d get a move on, accustom myself to the heat, and walk with Him among the dunes.
Because among the dunes there are many things that cannot survive. Things die in the desert.
Things like dead friendships, false identities, and lies.
Things like fibroids.
In the desert He heals.
There are also surprises upon the exodus. Land. With milk and honey.
There were surprises awaiting me. Miracles. I will tell you of them.
Who has been the Agent of Change in your life? Is it happening right now? Is the dragon breathing fire so that you will wake up and FINALLY DO THE THING YOU ARE REFUSING TO DO FOR YOUR VERY LIFE AND THE LIVING OF IT?
It’s very funny to me how after all this time I find myself resonating with the motto of facing the dragon.
Sometimes the dragon is a person that must stand down before you. Not my case in this scenario. Sometimes that dragon is the firm no in your face so that you will finally say yes to what beckons. For me, this was a calling to my truest self which began with the miraculous healing of my body, then my spirit, then my vocation, and now… my purpose. (Maybe that’s the order, maybe not.) Maybe it’s one big circle.
All roads lead home. Some forks take a longer path. Some require u-turns through the desert. And that can be a long haul back to where you got off track. They all encounter the dragon. You can handle him…or her.
But no matter the journey, if you are willing to walk through the desert, you will not be alone.
You will end up Home.
I’d love to know your Agent of Change. Leave a comment.
In the mood for something a little more humorous? Check out the latest entry into the Fat Pants Diaries.