If you've never done extra work before you might be confused at what the term "extra" even means. Almost every tv show and movie has an insatiable need for people to appear in the background of scenes. These people don't say any lines, they just make the scene look real. Without them it might look weird and empty, like a ghost town. They are the extra people. Either sitting in a restaurant pretending to eat, walking around a city street, or carrying fake important papers around office hallways.

I moved to Los Angeles from Pittsburgh in 1996 and couldn't wait to be a famous actor. I got a headshot and was starting to learn the ropes but fell into some classic traps. Somehow I had the impression that once I made it to Los Angeles, I would just start going to auditions and be this cool, poor, struggling actor guy. Life might suck but at least it would be interesting and every day I'd have a new audition and a chance to nail it and change my life.

Only, actually getting to the stage where you are going to auditions every day is like Los Angeles Actor level 8. I was still at level 1 when I saw the extra work flyer. See you don't just show up, put your name on the wannabe actor clipboard and get audtions. They real way to do it is to get a flexible hour non-career type job (read waiter), live in the right part of town (Studio City, NOT Santa Monica), get into a good acting class, and network with all your fellow actors. Eventually you'll find an agent, and eventually you'll start being sent on auditions.

I tried to get the waiter job, I really did. But I was way too naive and honest. I told restaurants the truth: just graduated from University of Pittsburgh with a Computer Science degree, never been a waiter before in my life. (BTW Jimmy Fallon has a Computer Science degree and I never liked that about him.) The correct way to get a waiter job in Los Angeles is to claim, "oh yeah I worked for years at the Olive Garden back in Pittsburgh." No one told me lying was part of being an actor, but I probably should have figured that one out myself.

So, living in my Santa Monica adjacent apartment (with a roommate) that I can't afford, I was walking along the beach and saw a flyer for being an extra in the movies. I called from a pay phone (this was 1996) right away. It turns out, there are companies that prey on naive wannabe actors! The correct way to be an extra is to register at Central Casting. They will charge you just $20 and are a legit business. The call with this company went something like:

Hi, I wanna be an actor in the movies!
Are you a member of the Screen Actors Guild?
No, but I want to be! (thinking they must be impressed with my desire to join SAG)
Where are you now?
I'm at the beach.
How quickly can you get down here?
I'm not sure, I could leave right now!

You don't understand. After getting rejected for so many waiter jobs with my Computer Science degree I finally found someone willing to get me into the movies! And I hadn't lied once. I made it down to their office within two hours and got the hard sell about joining their program. I would easily earn back the $250 registration fee once I started working as an extra. And they conveniently accepted credit cards.

A few days later I was on the set of Most Wanted staring Mr. Keenen Ivory Wayans. I played a cop. And by played I mean I wore a cop uniform and stood around in the background. This is the classic trap. I should be living in Studio City, going to acting class and being a waiter. But here I was on the set of a movie and I lived near Santa Moncia! It felt like this was the better direction. I think I just about broke even on the $250. I only worked on Most Wanted a few days. I did get to drive a cop car with the lights flashing going down a street at a fast speed, but that's unusual. Most extra's don't get that perk. I also remember really insulting a grip on the set by not knowing Robert Culp by name. I called him "that guy."

My roommate had an acting friend who clued me into Central Casting, so I switched over there and did a bunch more extra work. The longest assignment was a month tour of duty in the Trooper Corps. That's the Starship Tropper's Corps. Had to agree to a military style haircut for the part, but I felt it was the right decision for my career at the time. (Noah Wyle had to make a similiar decision in 1991 for his role in A Few Good Men and I've always felt a bond with him over this issue.) Spent the month marching around, but never made it on camera.

Then I did a bunch of one day jobs on Melrose Place, Seinfeld, The Pretender, Party Girl, etc. I'd show you the Seinfeld scene with me in the coffee shop but CBS sent me a cease and desist letter for having the 30 second clip on youtube. On The Pretender shoot I was playing a waiter! A production assistant asked me if I had any experince being a waiter and I finally learned to lie. I said yes and he repeated into his headset, "I'm sending in an extra to be the waiter, he has experience, repeat he has experience."

There is this myth you hear from other extras on the set. That one day the director is going see something in you no one else has seen and give you a speaking part. That being on the set gives you a big advantage over other wannabe actors stuck in some silly class. It's not true. Being an extra is like being human furniture. You are a prop. You are no different to the director than a bottle of ketchup on the table in a restaurant scene. People often ask me if you get a copy of the final movie of tv show when you are done shooting. I try and explain the ketchup bottle doesn't get a copy, why would an extra?