It’s 2012, and I’m twenty-seven years old, high on iced coffee and coconut macaroons. I’m standing in the lobby of a building in the Flatiron district of New York City, reading over the email from my agent again. I can’t remember details in moments like these.

“Head to the second floor, follow the signs for ‘SoBe Adrenaline Rush.’ Your slot is at 3:15 pm. Be ON TIME.”

In the elevator, I breathe to calm my churning guts.

I’m about to audition for a commercial that is specifically looking for a pole dancer– and I’m the only person I know of with a commercial dance agent and high-level pole dance skills.

I could be wrong. But even if there are others, I’m planning to blow some casting directors’ minds.