It should be pointed out that the night after I wrote this essay was one of the best nights I ever had in comedy, for a number of reasons. Always keep that in mind should this business ever frustrate you -- and it will.)
I am a standup comedian. I get to say that now; I was always careful to avoid that exact phrase (though it may have slipped out from time to time). I have always preferred to say that "I do standup comedy." Why the change? 1) I'm getting paid now and 2) I'm completely miserable.
I am getting paid now, though perhaps only in a matter of speaking. I make twenty-five dollars a set. It costs me ten dollars and three hours to get there, round-trip. So I net fifteen dollars for six hours of time. True, I can write off the travel expenses, but given that my projected annual income for 2004 is approximately thirty-seven dollars and twenty-three cents, I highly doubt I'll be itemizing my taxes.
In the past, I refused to call myself a standup comedian until I was paid. That's just obnoxious. Just because I shoot hoops at the Y doesn't mean I can introduce myself as a "basketball player". It's like all the "actors" you meet in New York City.
"What do you do?"
"I'm an actor."
"Really? What have you been in?"
"I was an extra in an independent short film three years ago."
"Oh, so you're a waiter."
If you ever meet a comic, and he tells you wonderful comedy is, and how passionate he is, and how it's his "destiny" and "purpose for being," punch him. Hard. Because he is an "open miker." And open mikers suck. But, Vince, weren't you an open miker? Yes, perhaps, at one point. I have certainly done open mikes. But I was never an "open miker". "Open mikers" do open mikes not for auditions or to try new material, but simply because they can't even perform for free. Think about that. Spend three years developing a five-minute act, and it is still so bad that everyone says, "I can't listen to this guy for less than five bucks and a drink." Open mikers go to open mikes and do their same boring act, on the off chance that, "Hey, maybe this joke will work the 237th time I tell it." And then they send tapes to bookers, and stand in line for eight hours for "Last Comic Standing" and the Aspen Comedy Festival. And any comic with any talent trying to be found simply gets lost in the shuffle (and I'm referring to people significantly further along the ladder than myself), or dies of exposure on the sidewalk in front of Stand Up New York.
