I never really believed what I heard dancers say when they talked about how hard it is to find a job. I always thought it would be handed to me on some beautiful china plate "Miss Schuett we'd be delighted if you would join our company as a principal dancer". This is what I dreamed of as a child. Haha, nope.
Probably the most trying time in a dancers life, aside from injuries, is audition season. No one said it was easy, and everyone was right. Stress, sweat, tears, pain, it all adds up. You walk into a building, register, and from that point on you are no longer called by your name, just your number. Mine was number 22. Now, this isn't meant, in any way, shape or form, to be demeaning. Unfortunately, this just happens to be the name of the game (no pun intended). You walk into the studio, find a spot at the barre, (if you have been fortunate enough to get there early enough) and from that point on, you are no longer a person, you are a piece of meat. Prodded, tested, pushed to the limit, and judged, by every single person in the room, including your fellow numbers. Picked apart on every level. Analyzed, until there is no more to analyze. Still, just a number.
Class begins, the audition panel introduce themselves, one by one you forget who they are, and what they do, it's all you can do to keep from falling over. Adrenaline rushes through your veins for maybe the first 20 minutes… Then, nothing. Exhausted from all the effort and energy you have exerted and the measly portion of barre that you just skimmed the surface of, hoping it was enough to impress. The first cut is made, there is not a breath drawn as you, or should I say your number, is being called. Luckily, this was an easier audition. No cuts are made during barre. You pray that, either you were able to impress them during barre and they want to see more, or you just didn't get noticed during barre, but they want to give you a chance so they let you stay. The numbers are called. The people leave with what dignity they have left.
Now that the first cut is made, you breathe a little easier. Trying to maintain control of your stability, keep your nerves down. You hope things get easier, that you will be able to carry out the combinations with more ease. The first combination at center is given, and your heart drops to your stomach. Not only does it seem completely impossible to keep your cool, you highly doubt you will get any further without breaking something or someone. The combinations are long and gruesome… and very, VERY random, but you force yourself to do the best you can, after all, you career is in the hands of the butchers. You get through the class thinking that you could do worse… knocking someone over isn't that big of a deal, right?
Class ends. You wait for numbers to be called, this time, the numbers called will not be the ones leaving. You wait for your number, not fully knowing whether you want to hear it or not. The numbers were called twice… (No #22)… When you realize your number isn't called, you either leave the room in shock, or just happy to have your name back, and turn in the sweaty piece of paper that contained your identity for 2 1/2 hours. Now what… the whole point was to get a job right… What are they saying to the numbers they called? Did they all get jobs? Or just "Well done, we are considering you for… something…" dunno. You take in all the reactions around you, some people crying, others cursing the auditioners, saying that they are missing out on an amazing dancer, (but if you think that way… they aren't missing out much.). Seriously though, what now? You gather your things, use the restroom to freshen up, take out your hair (all of this in silence), and leave? That doesn't seem right, but that's how it is. You have your name back, you still don't have a job, and you still feel like crap.
3 weeks later, you finally realize what happened… you take in a deep breath, and you make a choice. Cry about the failure, or take pride in the fact that you made it through.
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