They fool me to the top of my bent.

The things I have tolerated from good performers!
And almost always the male ones.
“I need them!” I think.
“He said he’ll show up.”
“He said he’d be there.”
“I know he’s an asshole but he’s so talented!”
“I had a feeling about him but I think it’s going to be fine.”

It almost never is.

The stacks of headshots we’d get in the mail would break our hearts.
The pile of women would be measured in feet.
The pile of men – in inches.

Men with credentials that would get them tossed to the side if they were women were called and auditioned.
And some of them, we cast.
And some of them were great.
But some of them were not.
And I let them fool me
Because I was desperate.
And then they made me crazy.

 

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