Greek to Me
The Reality Check is in the Mail
by Michael Raysses
If it’s true that forty is the new thirty, and that fifty is the new forty, it should come as no surprise that green has become the new black.
Personally speaking, I’m still waiting for short to become the new tall, but this latest shift in cultural amorphism might actually achieve significance beyond easing the hysteria of the age-phobic.
Everyone seeks to drape themselves in the color-of-the-moment: green. And why not?
It represents life and regeneration and, hey, wait a second—this is April. Who am I kidding? This particular month, green means money.
For the last couple of months the W-2s and 1099s have been rolling in. Beyond the obvious pain surrounding tax time, this is a particularly difficult for me because there is an unflinching certitude about numbers that I’ve always found disturbing.
They say numbers don’t lie, which I admire. An honest integer strikes me as a good thing. Besides, I don’t want any number to fib on my behalf.
But given the less-than-stellar trajectory of my acting career these days, I wouldn’t mind it if the numbers on my W-2s conspired to puff themselves up a bit, giving the impression that they’re actually a little bigger than they look.
A case in point: I recently received a residual check when a movie I did went to home video.
I know that you know how much actors make these days.
Of course, these actors are stars, so when you read about a performer getting $20 million for a picture you know it’s a short list of people who can command that kind of money.
Then there are the television stars who receive a million dollars for a week’s work.
Having worked on a few sitcoms, I can personally attest to the fact that sometimes work on a sitcom is grueling, and that those same stars oftentimes have to actually walk to the craft services table unescorted when they get hungry.
I am going to enlighten you to the other end of the financial spectrum, so to speak.
I walked out to my mailbox recently and saw an envelope from the Screen Actors Guild peeking out from within.
Inside the envelope was a residual check.
Residuals are sums of money actors receive when something they’ve worked on is shown again. For instance, actors receive a residual check for television shows they have worked on that are rerun in syndication.
They are like found money that you forgot you had, and sometimes they come when you least expect them.
As I peeled the envelope open, I visualized $200. (Keep in mind, I’ve worked on more than a few sitcoms over the years, so I figured that $200 is the going rate to get me to walk to the mailbox these days.) As I pulled out the voucher, I closed my eyes in silent prayer to the gods of windfall. There it was - 78 cents!
Not only did this number not lie, it had the poor breeding to blurt its feeble message.
As a meaningful barometer of how I’m doing as an actor, 78 cents left me with a lot to ponder in its wake.
First, there’s the issue of my agent’s 10 percent commission - I’ll have to round up and give her an extra 2 cents. But I justify that expense as a write-off.
And, of course, Uncle Sam takes his requisite bite, savaging my net to the tune of 69 cents.
That fact only reminds me to discuss new tax strategies with my accountant.
Now all I’m left to ponder is how to spend this princely sum.
Real estate has always been a good investment, but the market here is so unstable right now. My stock portfolio is bulging at the seams as it is, so that’s not an option.
I pass a newsstand, and it hits me─a newspaper─specifically, the want ads, because if I have sunk to receiving checks whose total barely covers the cost of the postage it takes to deliver them, perhaps a change is in order.
Instead, I stop and shake my head - when did money become the barometer for my progress? The instant I decided to act professionally, I heard a voice inside my head respond.
And the voice is right, at least partially so.
Though money wasn't the only criteria I used, it was impossible to have it mean nothing.
For better or worse, it is how we keep score. And I am getting shut out.
The irony for me is that I remember a time when I would have acted for nothing.
Turns out, I still am, which is really Greek to me.
Michael Raysses is a writer/actor/National Public Radio Commentator who lives in Los Angeles. His email address is MichaelRaysses@hotmail.com.