Justin Issa is a personal banker. He wears a suit and a name-tag every day.

But when he arrived for work in March with platinum blond hair, his manager was less than pleased, though not the least bit surprised.

"He hated it," Issa said. "But I kept a defiant stand on the matter. It's not like I dyed it pink."

By day, Issa works at a North Side Bank of America branch. By night, he takes the stage at one of Chicago's storefront theaters, playing the role of Goose in "Danger Zone: The Making of a Top Gun Musical" with the New Millennium Theater Company.

Though you'd never know from his professional exterior, Issa is one of thousands of struggling Chicago actors doing more than waiting tables and serving up pints of Guinness.

"I was a waiter all through college and I hated it," he said. "Now that I work at the bank, I don't do cartwheels on the way to work or anything, but I'm paid pretty well and it doesn't stress me out."

Issa has been with the Bank of America since he graduated from the Chicago College of Performing Arts in 2005. Although he admits that his job has hindered his ability to attend occasional auditions, he sees no other viable option.

"Some actors can see themselves doing nothing but performing and feel that doing anything but that would be 'selling out'," Issa said. "I am not willing to derail the other dreams I have for my life."

Professional unions, such as Actors Equity, try to ease the financial hardships for actors. Maria Somma, a spokeswoman for the union, emphasizes their efforts to mandate minimum wages, hour restrictions and pension plans.

"Actors Equity is here to make sure when you work as an actor you make a livable wage," Somma said. "And you're given the dignity that you deserve as an actor."

Unfortunately, not many theater companies in Chicago accept Equity contracts, leaving the Windy City with few Actor Equity members, only 1,500 compared with the 15,000 in New York and 7,000 in Los Angeles.

According to Ben Thiem, director of member services at the League of Chicago Theaters, aspiring actors have few choices.

"You have to be an equity actor to make a living at it," Thiem said. "If you're not equity, you're not going to have health benefits or job security. It would be very tough to survive."

With more than 200 theaters in Chicago, there would seemingly be a plethora of acting opportunities. But combined with the inflexibility of a professional day job, those opportunities often fall to a miniscule number.

"Steppenwolf called me yesterday to ask me to audition for their summer series, but I couldn't make the audition," Issa said. "It would have been $360 a week. Man, that would have been nice."

Issa's colleagues insist that his acting talents aren't being wasted behind his desk.

"His acting experience adds value to his ability to deal with people here," said Giovanni Garretto, a part-time teller at the bank. "He's the best we've got with character assessments and interpersonal skills. He can handle anyone."

Nevertheless, Issa refuses to give up his place on stage.

"Of course I would walk away from the bank if an opportunity came along that I felt really gave me a chance to make a living acting," said Issa, 25. "Without question or a second thought."