You have somehow managed to overexpose your film on every shot. Now the whole short film looks like it was shot on the surface of the sun. So much for getting a piece for your reel.
You somehow managed to squeak your way into the Union but insist on shooting scenes that look like they were shot in the mid-'90s. Even television shows won't hire you.
You've landed a gig working on a TV sitcom. There's little pay and even less respect, but hey, at least you're working.
You have become the darling of Madison Avenue. Every time an ad agency shoots a commercial, everyone wants to call you. The paydays are nice but the respect is even nicer.
You're not sure if you should do the new Spielberg movie or the new Scorsese movie. Everyone in Hollywood is calling you to shoot their new film. Your mother's still confused about what your job is exactly, but she can tell everyone her son is a big star, and that's good enough for her.