A female casting director.
Her looks, age, and attitude are completely irrelevant/unimportant, as long as I can 'persuade' the bitch to set up an audition appointment for me involving something decent for a change. For those of you fortunate enough to have avoided this business, Casting Directors are the strange, megalomaniacal trolls who make the initial selection of actors who will audition for the person actually staging the play or making the film. My four decades of union/professional experience with this species has taught me that they
never return telephone calls,
will not tell you what they are casting if there is the slightest suspicion you might be suitable for something in it, preferring to hire their friends, or even worse,
the talentless children of the celebrities with whom they’re attempting to ingratiate themselves,
insist they cannot audition anyone whose work they do not know while resolutely ignoring invitations to see plays in which you’re acting,
ignore easily-clickable emailed showreel links,
throw out your letters unopened in summer or use them to augment the firewood in winter,
and line the cat’s tray with your headshot photographs and resumes.
Lazy, insular, prejudiced, disparaging, snobbish, unimaginative, cowardly and entitled, a casting director is what toxic waste wants to be when it grows up.
To hear one shrieking through her tears of laughter the time and location of my Royal Shakespeare Company audition, for instance, or my reading for Spielberg would truly be 'a consummation devoutly to be wished'. (Hamlet)