Matt Bateman
Who Wants to be a Millionaire?
Not me, apparently.
My roommates and I were watching Jeopardy and eating chips when a commercial popped up. Tryouts for "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?" at our local mall. I didn’t think much of it. When I was a kid, the show was fresh and exciting. People talked about it. Kids at school made their own versions. Now it was just an old show.
Still, I agreed to meet a friend at the tryout. She bailed, but I figured I might as well give it a shot. After filling out a few forms, I was sat in a large room full of desks where everyone was given a test. We had ten minutes to answer thirty questions. It felt just like school.
Those who passed were brought to another room. A worker sat and chatted with me, just to get a feel for my personality. It's a shock I passed that phase. The final gauntlet was inside a tiny storage closet where they had a camcorder and spotlight. I blinked against the light and answered trivia questions.
“Don’t just say the answer, work through it out loud. Show us what you’re thinking through and why you’re picking that answer.” So I took my time and answered. They announced I was correct.
“No, no, show some enthusiasm. Get into it,” they said.
Enthusiasm on demand is not a strength I possess. But I gave it the old college try, and after a few more questions they sent me on my way.
About two weeks later, my phone rang. A producer said, "How does August fifth and sixth look for you?"
It looked great. I was going on the show.
Final Answer?
My father travelled with me as my "plus one." We visited New York City before riding the train to Stamford, Connecticut. We arrived early, immediately had our phones confiscated, toured the studio, and did a practice question on stage. For the rest of the day, we were locked in the green room. The other contestants talked about their time on Jeopardy or other game shows, like this was their profession. I felt very out of place.
At the end of the day, I didn’t make it into the schedule, and they asked me to return the next morning. Back again, after only an hour or so, they announced that I was next in line. They took us through makeup and whizzed us downstairs to be “on deck.” The girl before me lost fast, and with almost no warning, I was pushed on stage.
Chris Harrison said hi, shook my hand, and I was directed to my mark.
A minute later, the cameras were rolling. The producers had chosen the "poor college student" as my angle, so Chris announced me as such (with perhaps a little exaggeration), I took my place, and the questions began.
It was fun, the crowd was riled up and having a great time, and I made it through the first five questions no sweat. On a commercial break, I got to chat with Chris and received some feedback to keep my clapping to a minimum (see, enthusiasm).
The questions got more difficult. I used a couple lifelines.
We ran out of time. I was pushed out to go change for “the next day” of filming. They rearranged the audience so it would look different.
“Remember, we don’t do trick questions - go with your gut,” she said. My dad and I laughed about the questions. I was having fun. I didn’t want to play it safe, I’d try to get through to the next level. I returned to the set and sat in the crowd as they prepared to start filming. A group of women from the south patted me on the back and told me I was doing well. The lights turned on, I walked down to play again, and the show resumed. Eventually I arrived at the tenth question. $50,000, and a breakpoint where I’d be safe with that minimum of money if I made it. The question flashed onto the board. It listed four performers, and said they were all just shy of earning an EGOT. Which one did not have a tony? Cyndi Lauper, Al Pacino, Julie Andrews, or Elton John.
Hmm. I barely knew who Cyndi Lauper was, and I wasn’t feeling sure at all, so I used my last lifeline - 50/50. The only choices that remained were Al Pacino and Julie Andrews. I knew Julie Andrews had been on Broadway in “My Fair Lady.” Al Pacino? Come on. Julie Andrews is a treasure. It seemed like a layup. I went with Al Pacino, final answer.
...Of course, I was wrong. Turns out I underestimated Al Pacino. I couldn't believe the Dunkaccino guy had a lauded career on Broadway, but as it turns out, he won in 1969 for “Does a Tiger Wear a Necktie?” So just like that, I was whisked off stage. In a dark crevice beneath the stage, someone had me sign a few legal forms. A few seconds later, we were outside the building. Done.
I got the check a few months later - $5,000. About half that after tax, and I eagerly blew it on a trip to Europe (no regrets there). I had a blast being on the show, and I'm glad to have had the experience. I've only found one person who has gotten that question right, so I don't feel too bad. Still, I can't help but feel Julie Andrews really should have won that Tony.
❦
