During my ad agency years in Little Rock, I would sometimes travel for recording sessions or commercial shoots. Before you start thinking that I led a glamorous life, let me tell you about some of the exotic locations I visited: Monroe, Louisiana; Texarkana, Texas; Blytheville, Arkansas.
One trip though, was different. We were doing a series of animated spots for a bank that was rebranding itself. All our work was done in great secrecy. The animation company was located in Minneapolis which was, at the time, the scene of the country’s most creative advertising. During the production process, my boss–the creative director–and I flew up there to audition and record the talent that would provide the voices for the commercials. We were met at the airport by a stretch limo which took us to our very upscale hotel. We had an early night in preparation for our big day ahead.
We were driven to the studio the next morning and passed out the scripts to the actors and actresses who were auditioning. The first guy up started reading his lines in a very exaggerated, very hick sounding–and very bad–Southern accent–he was straight out of Tobacco Road. Before he got too far into the script, I leaned over and pressed the intercom button.
“Thank you, that’s all,” I said.
“Huh? What do you mean,?” he said.
“I’ve heard enough, thank you for coming” I replied.
“Oh,” he said…”did I offend you? Let me start over.” He was appealing to my (male) boss by now.
“Sorry,” the boss said. “She’s the producer, what she says goes.”
Perhaps I was a tad hasty. Maybe a little too sensitive.
But damn, it felt good.