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 I find myself at Film Development Corporation on Saturday afternoon. All because I stumbled across their audition advertisement (for Merdeka commercial) on Facebook few days ago and the performer in me won’t stop nagging me until I decided to sacrifice my beauty sleep for the audition.

 Once I open the door my jaw almost drops to the floor. I am greeted by the sight of hundred over people and my registration number is 157.

 I have no idea that I will be competing with so many people.

 

 It’s pretty embarrassing to be sitting there alone when most people around me come with friends so I try to talk to those sitting next to me; only to learn that the pretty lady next to me has been a TV extra for three years and the gentleman on my right is a professional model and he just modelled for Levi’s two weeks ago.

Umm, well, I’ve been a TV extra twice and acted in a short play which no one watched?

 I think I should go home but the performer in me refuses to move.

 The co-ordinator, Ariff takes our pictures and after one of the talents pesters him for what to prepare for the audition, he passes some scripts to us.

 It is a short script about a young couple where the guy will be leaving Malaysia soon to further his studies. The girl tries to flirt but him, being the hero, rejects her, telling her that such actions are immoral.

 If such a guy really exists, I will probably fall madly in love with him. What a saint.

  

 It is good that I now have something to read at so I won’t look so lonely sitting there all by myself. It doesn’t take long to memorize it but I just keep looking at the script because I don’t know what to do.

 Two hours later, me and nine other talents are called to the studio. I am so surprised at what I see that if it’s possible,  my eyes will spring out of the sockets, making loud “TWANGGGGG!” noise before returning to their rightful places.

 Three people are performing, with around thirty other talents who are waiting for their turn watching them. Three judges and there are cameras recording all the performers’ actions.

   Audition? Seriously? This feels like a performance.

 Ariff also tells us that due to the overwhelming response, they decide to make the audition impromptu so the judges will not get bored. He tells us to team up with our friends and come up with a short play.

 But Ariff, in case you fail to notice, I am here alone.

 Lucky for me that there are two other loners who are willing to have me in their group. I learn that they are both experienced TV extras.

 I really should be on my way home now.

 Watching other groups performing is really bad for self-esteem. They are so amazingly good that there are times when I forget I’m here for an audition. I actually think I am here to watch a performance. Comedy, tragedy, romance, thriller, action-packed - you name it, they do it.

  “Let’s see,” the judge in the middle says when it is our turn to shine on stage - or, in my case, to make the lights dim. “Alright. I want you -” she points at the Indian guy in our team - “to be the father who refuses to let his daughter marries a foreigner. And you - “ she points at the Malay girl - “The mother, who stands up for the daughter. You, ah moi - “ pointing at me - “the daughter.”

 “Why are you so stubborn? You and I are of different races as well,” my stage mother gets in the mood very quickly.

 “It’s a different story! Don’t you try to distract me with something else!” my stage father is fast in getting into his character too. Both of them get into a heated argument immediately.

 That’s when I realize : if I don’t say something now, I will never get a chance to say anything throughout the whole audition.

 “Mama!” I tug my mother’s blouse. “Papa bullies me, he doesn’t love me anymore, I’m sad Mama, help me -”

 “Don’t forget, you might be an Indian but you eat meatball spaghetti too, and I may be Chinese but I love nasi lemak very much, so why are you being so old-fashioned?”

 I laugh a little at her lines before realizing that I shouldn’t. I hastily change my facial expression to that of a bimbotic daughter begging and pleading her parents for something she wants.

 “This has nothing to do with food, I’m talking about my daughter’s marriage! You shut up! Sheesh, women! Never know when to be quiet!”

 My stage parents are too busy fighting for the limelight to notice me. I guess I should do that too.

 “Help me, mama, I really want to marry Emmanuel, you know how much I love French culture, I am always eating bouillabaisse and escargot and ratatouille and macaron, why is papa being so irrational, mama help me talk some sense into papa -” I don’t know why but Emmanuel is the first name that comes to my mind. Maybe because he is the first French guy I befriended.

 And I’ve actually never tried bouillabaisse and ratatouille before. Somehow long complicated names that I can’t pronounce properly come to my mind when I can’t think of anything to say.

 “You are spoiling our daughter! I’m not going to take a son-in-law who doesn’t even know how to eat Asian cuisine!”

 Oh, this seems like a good time for me to steal the limelight.

 “But papa! Emmanuel knows how to use chopsticks now, and soon I will be teaching him how to eat with hands, he is very smart and he learns things very quickly so don’t you worry, if you want I can ask him to wear sarong and songkok too, he is very open-minded, I’m sure he won’t mind, he’ll probably like them, he likes Asia culture especially Jackie Chan, trust me papa -”

 Our bickering goes on for quite a while before the judges stop us. As I leave the stage one of the judges smiles slyly at me and says : “So, Emmanuel huh?”

 She probably thinks that’s my actual boyfriend’s name.

  She’s probably even thinking that my boyfriend is really a foreigner!

Oh wow, am I that convincing? Can’t help but to feel a little proud even though I know I really shouldn’t. Too many talented people here.

 “Wow, you can act quite well huh?” my stage mother says to me. A seasoned TV extra telling that to an acting novice - I guess she’s just being kind. Too kind.

*

 Two months later during my first rehearsal for “Seringgit”, I receive a phone call.

“This is Ariff from Film Development Corporation.”

 

 Feeling excited, I stand a little straighter.

 So Ariff tells me where and when to meet and what to bring. He also tells me that not counting me, seven other talents were chosen.

 Around two hundred people auditioned. Eight chosen. And I’m one of them?

 

 I think I screamed all the time while driving home from Wangsa Maju. Too good to be true. Worth losing my voice for it.

 On the actual shooting day I arrive at the studio fifteen minutes earlier. I meet an Indian girl and a Chinese guy and both of them look somewhat familiar.

For a moment I hesitate to say “hi” to them because they look like celebrity to me.

 I later find out the Theebia is a pageant winner and Dexter has been dancing for Astro. He is also a musical actor.

 Then there’s Logen, who has been a TV extra for six years; Izzat, an actor’s son; Christine, a young girl who has appeared in a number of TV commercials; Syarifah, an experienced, drop-dead gorgeous model and Yusof, a voice-over actor.

 Then you have me, who’s wearing a “how-did-I-get-here-with-all-these-amazing-people-oh-wow-someone-up-there-really-likes-me” facial expression.

 Shooting is completed in three hours time and we are paid rather handsomely. Reminds me of being paid peanuts for acting under the hot sun from 8am - 6pm; and continued filming at a different location until 11pm.

 Drinking water while being blinded by the fake diamonds that Theebia is wearing, I can’t help but to think of the paradox of value.