student getting arrested

Thursday, May 21, 1998

Come on down

MONEY: Winning Ben Stein’s money and swiping Red Vines are only
part of the underground world of

game shows

For those of you who read my columns, you know that a major
focus of mine is maximizing my income while minimizing the amount
of time spent maximizing my income.

Last year, there were try outs on campus for a new game show on
Comedy Central, a high level trivia game of all things. The show
was called "Win Ben Stein’s Money," and it is hardly new now, but
when I auditioned for it they were shooting the pilot season. I
thought to myself, "This is it." Visions of cash awards and
luscious parting gifts danced through my head. I could not decide
whether I wanted a new car or a trip to an exotic locale.

I thought the subject matter of the show would be perfect for
me, seeing as how I have a very trivial mind. I’m also an English
and psychology student, and when one graduates with these majors,
they find that what they are most suited to do is watch "Jeopardy"
and yell at the contestants when they answer questions wrong. It’s
somewhat disturbing to think of how much cash I have given to UCLA
in order to be able to dominate the American Lit category in Double
Jeopardy.

However, we all have to work with what we’ve got, so I figured
I’d let my talent, charm and UCLA education pave the way to untold
riches on the game show circuit. Given my vast experience on the
subject, I would like to give you an insider’s view into the
glamorous world of television game shows.

The first step is the audition (or "try out" if you prefer). In
my case, it was a way for me to not only try out for the show but
also to scope out the competition. It took place in Kerckhoff Hall
(a familiar setting, and convenient to boot) and consisted of
filling out a data sheet, having a Polaroid taken and strenuous
tests of one’s intellectual capacity.

The first part of the trivia category is a written test with all
kinds of fill-in questions – the stuff you remember when you hear
it or had to learn a long time ago (like state capitals) but never
get a chance to use. They score the test right there and make their
cuts. Being as ultra-competitive as I am, I was curious to know
what I got on the test, but they only told us who had advanced to
the mock game portion of the audition.

The mock game was great; we got to use those cool little service
bells that you always want to ring when you see them on a counter
but can’t because they’re annoying as hell. The host (not the real
host, mind you, because he’s probably really busy doing important
game show things, but a fake host. Get it? A mock host for the mock
game.) explained the game.

Anyway, here’s how the game works: there are categories with
catchy names (the show is on Comedy Central, remember?). Like if
there was a question about diseases, the category could be called
"Armed and Contagious." Clever, eh?

So we play this mock game, and the representatives from "Win Ben
Stein’s Money" say they’ll be in touch. Don’t call us, we’ll call
you, y’know. They’re going to contact the lucky contestants who are
going to be selected to actually appear on the show.

Here’s where the tips for getting on the game show come in –
keep in mind, I am not an expert on this topic nor am I even
remotely qualified to be making these statements. However, I am a
keen observer of human behavior (another benefit of that psychology
degree):

1. Be friendly and smile. Note: I did not say "be yourself." If
being yourself is not being a smiley and friendly person, you
should probably pretend to be both of those things. Game shows, by
and large, want people with some personality. (Think of all those
lunatics jumping around over the price of an ugly dinette set on
the "Price is Right.") But maintain your dignity.

Keywords to remember: For women, think "head cheerleader." For
men, think "fraternity president during rush week." Or, to sum it
up in two gender neutral words: Be sparkly. So now you know how to
get on the show.

My show was filmed at KTLA Studios in Los Angeles. Each
contestant had to bring a few different outfits. I thought it was
so that if you won you could stay on the show for days on end, but
since they would film all the episodes on the same day, you’d need
different clothes to give the illusion of time passing. It turned
out that we were supposed to bring extra clothes, just in case the
staff of the show hated our outfits or it looked bad on camera, and
you had to change.

2. Check to see if you can appear on the show more than once or
if it is a one-time deal. My show was a one-time thing. In order to
maximize your winnings, I recommend picking a show where you can
spend as much time as possible on the show in case you win.

We arrived at the studio, and the contestants were sizing each
other up while making polite small talk. Imagine my surprise when I
realized I was the youngest person there. I figured if they
recruited contestants from college campuses, the show was pretty
young. Not necessarily. I was pitted against an accountant and a
music teacher. This is when I started getting a little worried. In
my book, more life experience equals more time to amass useless
knowledge.

After determining the schedule, the on-site make-up artist
powdered our noses so we’d look pretty under the hot studio lights.
We were then shown into this break room which, unfortunately for
me, turned out to be the best part of the day. It was stocked with
all kinds of food and drinks and had couches and a TV so we could
watch what was going on in the studio. After eating my fill of Red
Vines (I do love Red Vines), it was finally my turn to be
filmed.

The first insult to my dignity came when someone determined that
I was too short and made the set aesthetically unpleasant or
something. So they brought me a box to stand on. I guess they
didn’t want any of the viewing audience to think I was some sort of
leprechaun. I was a little peeved; I have not needed a booster seat
in many years, thank you.

Then came the show itself. Was it a test of useless knowledge
like I was expecting? No. Rather, it was a test of reflexes, and my
reflexes are notoriously slow.

Here’s exactly how it works: The host asks a question and has to
read through it completely before the contestants’ signalers will
even respond. And, once a contestant pushes their signaling button,
it takes three seconds for it to re-arm itself so you can signal
again.

After the host reads a question, a light on the other side of
the stage goes on. Whichever contestant presses their signalling
button first after the question is read and the light goes on gets
to answer. Knowing the answer is only the tip of the iceberg, you
see.

I did not fare so well on the game show circuit, and after being
eliminated – the first contestant to be eliminated, if you must
know) – my next thoughts were (in this order):

First, I hope no one sees this if it actually airs, and second,
I wonder what my parting gift/consolation prize is.

Unfortunately for me, the show did air – repeatedly. It’s always
discouraging when I run into someone on campus, and they say, "Saw
you on TV last night, but I only caught you for a few minutes. If
you have a tape of the show I’d love to see it." I don’t really
have the heart to tell them that I was only on the show for a few
minutes, and they probably saw the whole thing.

In regards to my parting gift, it was a Discman, not the trip to
Hawaii that I had hoped for. But I did not have a Discman before,
so I can’t really complain.

This brings me to my final tip of the day:

3. Check out the show first, look at the other contestants they
usually have on it and study the parting gifts. In other words, do
your homework. My show was for the pilot season, and I had no idea
about any of this, but you, dear reader, have the advantage of my
experience to guide you.

Best of luck, win big, and if you win a trip for two to Hawaii
please remember both this column and my e-mail address.