Just play it cool, real cool

You get there early, of course, because you've built in such a large buffer that even if you took the express train uptown by mistake, waited in vain for a downtown train, and wound up in the middle of Harlem looking for a cab, only to discover that all the taxis in Harlem are unmarked black towncars remarkably similar to the ones driven by kidnappers/pimps/drug dealers, so you had to walk all the way back downtown until you saw a yellow cab, you would still arrive on time (hypothetically speaking, you know). You walk into Barnes & Noble across the street and pretend to look around, but all you're really looking at is your watch. Every 23 seconds or so. Finally, when the time is right, and you're early enough to look responsible, but not so early that you look desperate, you make your way there.

There's a lot of construction, so you're not sure you're in the right place until you see a mixture of women glammed to the nines and burly men in IATSE jackets. They're all going in the same direction, and you know you're in the right place. You check in with the security guard and sit down to wait. While you're there, you see a lighting designer, a choreographer, and a coach that you know slightly, do a bit of celebrity gawking, and have a happy reunion with two singer friends, one of whom introduces you to this guy. Of course.

Ever since you found about it, you've been trying to convince yourself and everyone else that it doesn't matter. "The great thing about it," you brag, "is that I really don't care. I'm going in with a great attitude, and I can take it or leave it." Inside, though, you're hoping that being there will be just as exciting as you thought it would be when you were 12. And sitting there, waiting for somebody to come take you upstairs, watching all the people greet each other, swipe their coveted ID cards, and go to rehearsal, you realize that in fact you do care. You care quite a bit. And it's right then that you get nervous.

You get taken upstairs and you sit in another room to wait. This one doesn't have live entertainment, but it does have a TV with stage feed, so you squint your eyes to watch bits of a tech rehearsal of a new production. You've brought your résumé in a little green folder, but as soon as you get there you realize it's wrong, because of course he has your résumé, and you didn't plan ahead enough so it's not even on special paper, so you hide it under your coat and leave it on the chair next to you. You sit up very straight in your chair, just in case anyone happens to be looking at you, and you do your best to compose your face to look smart and interesting. Then you realize you're trying way too hard, especially considering that you're sitting all by yourself watching TV, so you try to relax and tell yourself to play it cool.

And then, before you know it, you're in the next room, and the Interview that Never Was... is.