My other life began after my children were in bed asleep.
That’s when I’d sneak into my home “studio” in the closet under the stairs, flick on the microphone and record my voice hawking Duracell batteries, State Farm Insurance, Continental Tires. Or I’d tiptoe into my basement with a ring light and a cell phone camera, auditioning for bit parts on “Chicago Fire” and “Chicago Med.”
I’ve done hundreds of these voice-over and on-camera auditions from home dating back to 2018. And how many jobs did I book?
None. Well, none that paid.
Then last month, an email from my talent agent made my future brutally official: “Our records indicate your representation was severed on 11/8/25” — the notification was sent via email. “At that time you were removed from my roster. I apologize if that was unclear in any way, and am so appreciative of the hard work you put in throughout the years!”
Severed?!
It sounded like the removal of a diseased, offending appendage. And, besides, they hadn’t even heard my best stuff!
My editor suggested I show my video and audio reels to some folks who know what it takes to survive in the brutal Chicago acting world. Maybe they could figure out if I was a no-hoper or if I just needed to tweak a few things. So she gave me a couple of names — one a friend of her husband’s, the other her neighbor.
I made the calls and told these local professionals: “Don’t hold back.” They didn’t.
Because I grew up in England and still sound, to most Americans, English, I thought I had carved out a nice niche for myself. And honestly, how difficult could it be to book jobs when I was competing with guys whose English accents were as believable as Dick Van Dyke as a Cockney chimney sweep in “Mary Poppins”?
Stef Tovar is a veteran professional actor who has worked in film, TV and theater. Tovar, who lives in Chicago, still acts, but also coaches other actors, as well as business executives, lawyers, doctors and others to be better communicators.
“If you’re going up for jobs that are set in Chicago, they’re going to be like, ‘Why would I cast an English guy when I can give you five other guys who look like him and are from Chicago?” Tovar told me, when we met recently on the North Side.
To some ears, I don’t sound English enough.
Bumper Carroll, my editor’s neighbor, is a Chicago-based voice-over actor, whose work has included a national spot for Eggo Waffles. He’s also a creative director who has cast and produced dozens of industrial video projects.
Carroll told me when we met recently in a noisy Starbucks on the North Side that I actually have an “Americanized” English accent and that it’s distracting.
If you were narrating a car insurance ad, Carroll said, “I would be worried that someone is going to go: ‘Is he British? Is he American? I didn’t hear a thing about how much the insurance cost because I was too caught up in the accent.’”
Carroll advised that when I next do the accent, I should “really lay it on thick” like the Geico gecko guy, British actor Jake Wood.
Tovar told me the technical quality of my video recordings was a clear sign that I am an amateur. I told Tovar that I’ve been doing “self-tape” auditions for TV in my dingy basement in front of an old burgundy sheet.
“Stefano, you’re not getting cast with that poor background. That’s got to change if you want to compete for jobs. … Before you even show me the scene, [as a casting director] I’m out,” he said.
Carroll said, among other things, that my voice-over reel was just me. In addition to the vocal performance, good voice reels have “sound design — effects, music, production value,” he said. “They are either a collection of booked work, or something designed to sound like booked work.”.
My reel tells someone who is considering hiring me that “you haven’t done this professionally, immediately. It’s a dead giveaway,” Carroll said.
I know what you’re thinking: The universe is trying to tell you something. Screaming it at you.
But Carroll told me I am a “competent” actor. Tovar called my taped performance “really good.” And here’s the thing: My talent agency may have abandoned me, but I still get daily emails from an online service that offers acting tips and specially curated auditions. So maybe it’s not time to give up.
Recent requests included a call-out for a “Cristiano Ronaldo look-alike.” Maybe not.
“Dog on a tractor with owner.” I have neither a tractor nor a dog.
“Are you terrified to get naked in front of a crowd?” asked one ad, casting for a show about body insecurity. Actually, I would be terrified to do that.
“Conservative guy willing to try drag.” Possibly.
“British male actor for a hair growth product.” British: check. Male: check. Thinning a bit on top: check!