As a student of the arts, I studied dance at Arthur Murray Dance Studio, jazz dance at Luigi’s, and tap and ballet at Star Time Music Studio. To say that I have two left feet is letting me off easy. I’ve stepped on more toes than a sumo wrestler. I also took singing lessons in the old Ed Sullivan Building. In my fifth-grade glee club, the teacher told me to stand with the group and not sing, or mouth the words.
Even now, when I do kiddush at home, a week doesn’t go by without my wife commenting that I’m singing off-key — like she’s Mariah Carey with a perfect ear.
I spent years studying commercial acting. I don’t want to brag, but I auditioned for 20 years straight and never landed a single commercial. How’s that for a solid run?
Regarding acting classes, I studied at the famous HB Studio in New York and Los Angeles with many notable teachers. After moving to Hollywood, the producers of the hit TV show “Just Shoot Me” called and said, “We specifically wrote a part for you.” I went in and auditioned and didn’t get the part. Except for a few roles friends gave me, I landed nothing.
Here are the best ones … Once, one of the heads of ABC told me I wasn’t good-looking enough for them to work with me. And I remember the day I tried to get into Studio 54, and when the security guy perused me, he said, “Move back.” Please don’t feel bad for me. As a child, my aunts called me a handsome young man. Plus, my wife thinks I’m cute.
Comedians have always joked about their looks — Joan Rivers, Phyllis Diller, Jim Gaffigan, and many more. Rodney Dangerfield said, “I tell ya, I’m ugly, ya know. Whoa, as soon as I was born, the doctor turned around and slapped my mother.”
I was lucky to have had all those different experiences. Did those rejections feel good when they happened? Not really. What happened was that the rejections became my teachers. They taught me that I needed to treat myself more lovingly and not put myself in situations where I was constantly rejected.
Any job I ever took that was not right for me, I knew it almost immediately. So, one day, I stopped chasing after things that kept insisting that they were not right for me and instead focused on what I was right for. Try not to run from the voice that tries to guide you. Deep down, you know what’s right for you.
In my case, it was stand-up comedy and writing. Both those things felt right. Were there still rejections along the way, even now? Most definitely. People spend more time at work than with their families. Most of the time I spend with my family is spent asleep. Having the right job and a significant other could be the difference between happiness and misery. Are you in the right place?
Back to my looks. Full disclosure: I’ve thought more than a few times about what it must be like to be classically handsome. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind looking like Michael B. Jordan or a young George Clooney for a month — just one month where, everywhere I went, people thought, What an attractive guy. Here’s my phone number. I have an incredibly handsome friend. I asked him what it was like. He said he never really thinks about it — except when he thinks he is losing his looks, which he says happens almost daily.
Then, I’d like to be returned to that guy who rides in the middle of the herd — the guy with the job he likes, and the family he loves, and who love him.
So, I will continue writing and doing stand-up. I will limit my singing to the shower, where I bring my waterproof Bluetooth speaker and belt it out. I will dance at weddings, bar mitzvahs, and “Ring Around the Rosie” with my grandkids. I will continue acting daily when I make believe I do what my wife says I should do. Let’s face it: We must keep dancing and singing, or else.
Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”
