Recuerden Sus Marcos Por Favor

People,

Jimmy is at it again.


So yesterday I had to drive to Carson for an extras job. Now, whenever I’m booked for one of these things, I have to call some hotline that tells me where to go, what to wear and who to ask for to check in. I almost never know the name of the project, whether it’s TV, film; I have very little to go on. For this job all I knew was that I was supposed to be dressed hip and trendy and was being paid in cash on
site. Already it's sketchy.

I was directed to go to the Home Depot Sporting Center in Carson, which is basically a baseball and soccer field extravaganza. There were no signs directing me where to go, and I didn’t know the name of the project anyway, so I had to drive around a bit to find ‘the crew’.

Apparently everyone in Carson drives an early 90’s Toyota Corolla, lowered, with a spoiler and several decals to remind you that the car is, in fact, a Toyota. Also, they are all painted colors which I’m sure were not offered by the dealership, colors like highlighter lime and orange.

I found the group I was looking for, a large contingency of Latin men and women standing on a soccer field. Everyone was dressed, per instruction, ‘hip and trendy’. This clearly means different things to different people. I stood near the group, within earshot of anyone who looked important and pulled out my book.

Rule of non-union extras work #38
Always take a book.

Suddenly I heard someone talking to the group of Latin persuasion in an authoritative tone. Obviously this person was in charge. She was telling us what we were going to be doing that day. I cocked one ear, leaned in and gave it my all, but I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. I moved closer, took a few steps nearer my ‘hip and trendy’ associates. Still, I couldn’t quite get what was going on. And then it hit me. It was like a bolt of lighting.

She was speaking Spanish.

I looked around and realized that everyone was listening intently and nodding with agreement, laughing occasionally at her Latin jokes, and already practicing what I’m sure were dance steps she was conveying orally. I was at a total loss. I quickly came up to here and said I didn’t speak Spanish. She said:

Como?

So for the rest of the day, I felt like I had been dropped in the town square in Argentina with no guide. I listened with mock understanding when the director shouted over and over:

Muy importante recuerden sus marcos primeros.

I knew whatever it was I was supposed to be recuerding was very important, but that was about it. I never did figure out who this Marcos person was, or why he was so pivotal to the shoot, but I took it all in stride. By the end of the several hour ordeal, I gathered that I was in some kind of Latin commercial, probably to air on Univision, selling something. That is really all I got. I know it had to do with an envelope that the lead actors were passing around in front of the camera, but even if I had seen what was written on it, it would surely have been in Spanish. Elusive as the product we were pitching was, I felt by the end of the day a certain kinship with my dark-skinned compadres. We were made to shout ‘Unate!’ over and over as a group, and by the final shot, I really felt like I meant it. Whatever it meant.