The Commercial Actor’s Confessional
- Gary Miller
- Feb 16, 2019
- 2 min read
Updated: Jun 23
Commercials are a way for actor's to pay the bills.
At one point, I was getting offers direct to my inbox. For one commercial, they asked me to play this wild character — basically a guy hunting down rogue drones. Not a lot of money. I sent it to my agent, and boom — more money. That felt good. Not because I’m greedy, but because I’m working. I liked the guys too but I had to set a professional boundary. They’re using me to sell a product. It wasn't a student film. I'm giving them a full day (or more) of my time, my face, my voice, my weird little choices — and I can’t do another commercial in that same space for a while. So yeah, I’m gonna ask for more. That’s not selling out — that’s knowing what your time’s worth.
People in the industry will tell you not to share old commercial work — that it might “hurt your chances” at something bigger. I’ve heard stories of actors losing national campaigns because they popped up in a local spot for the same industry. Maybe that’s true. Maybe it’s not. I’ve taken enough workshops across enough markets to know: everyone’s got a different rulebook. It’s less like following one playbook and more like walking into a different sport every time — sometimes you’re playing chess, sometimes dodgeball, and sometimes the goalposts move while you're mid-sentence.
At a certain point, you stop chasing the perfect path and just play your game. I’ve gotten shit for commercial acting. I had one gig when I was coaching high school football — the kids saw the ad and lost a little respect for me. It was cheesy. Dorky. Fun. And it paid more than I’d make in a couple of months at the school. Once they heard that part, they thought it was cool.
But that’s the reality: I’m a married actor with student loans. Would I love to chase wild indie films and do boundary-pushing comedy every day? Absolutely. But sometimes, you go into an audition, pretend to use mouthwash, smile at the camera, and that’s the job. And that job might just pay more than a whole run of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf at the artistically daring black box theater down the street.

Commercial actor work funds the passion actor work. It buys you time. And frankly, it’s still acting. My fellow comedians love to trash commercial work. They’ll clown it on stage, roll their eyes at the ads, and act like they’re too cool to ever touch a brand job. Then — no joke — those same people DM me asking how to book the exact roles they just mocked.
Look, I get it. It’s not glamorous. It’s not edgy. It’s not “the dream.” But it is a paycheck. It's another opportunity to be grateful for an opportunity to tell a story. It’s experience. And it’s one more day on set, learning how to hit a mark, take a note, and still find something human in the middle of selling toothpaste.

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