The Mission To Win A Car
I love game shows. Always have. Probably always will.
Maybe it’s my gambling nature, but something about showing up empty-handed in the morning and leaving with a car at the end of the day always seemed incredible. During my last year of college, a group of friends went to Florida for spring break. Me? I decided to check out The Price Is Right instead. Alone.
Was that weird? Probably.
But, hey, I never pretended to be normal. Over the years, I’ve had a few people ask for advice on how to win stuff on game shows. It’s been a while and I’m no expert…but here’s what my experiences have been…
That first trip in college 20 years ago was pretty depressing. I won a bed and a desk…but lost the game that would have gotten me a car. A dagger through my young heart. Almost immediately, the thought popped into my head – “Wait, I gave up my last spring break to win a car? On a game show? What the hell is wrong with me?”
They tape 2 shows a day. So when I was done losing in the morning, I walked by a few hundred people who were lined up for the afternoon show. They were yelling out to everyone –
“How did it go??”
“What happened in there??”
“Did you win??”
I remember finding it a bit odd that nobody stopped to answer their questions. So, I stood there for a minute and described my depressing experience. I guess they felt bad for the sad young college kid…because all of those people started clapping when I finished the story. It was incredibly sweet and actually got me out of my funk for a few minutes. But the mission remained. One day, I needed to win a car on a game show.
Ten years later, I was allowed to go back. Considering I was a grown man who’d dealt with the real world by then, there wouldn’t be any heartbreak. Again, I won prizes…a living room set (they gave me $4,000 instead) and a fancy coffee machine. But still no car. The mission remained.
2 or 3 years later, I decided to try Let’s Make A Deal. If you’ve never seen it, the show requires people to wear costumes. It was early November, so I headed to a clearance Halloween store. Can’t say I spent more than 30 seconds throwing together a referee’s uniform and a big, shiny dollar sign necklace. I didn’t even know what it was supposed to be, so I just said I was a referee who takes bribes.
Waiting in line for a game show isn’t exactly fun. It’s a long day. And you’re surrounded by the kinds of people who…well, stand in line for game shows. After a few hours of waiting, you finally get to the short interview (which I’ll describe later) and then you know the taping is getting close. I had zero plans that particular day and my thinking was, “Shit, I can either eat pizza and watch TV…or I can try to win a car.” So I waited a few hours in line, talked to some weirdos, did the interview, and entered the studio.
On The Price Is Right, you just grab a seat. Let’s Make A Deal was different. I saw producers telling assistants (through their earpieces) to sit certain people in aisle seats. Clearly, those were the ones who would be contestants.
I reach the front of the line and excitedly ask, “Is there anywhere specific you want me to sit?”
The assistant replies, “Nah, anywhere you want. Just not in an aisle seat.”
Damn.
Not a good sign.
They start the show and begin, almost exclusively, picking the most attractive girls in the room. That (clearly) doesn’t include me. I also happen to be sitting next to the geekiest guy on planet earth. During commercial breaks, he’s dancing nonstop to the music. And by “dancing,” I mean he’s miming, doing the robot, and attempting something best described as a clumsy macarena. He even tries to start a wave at one point. He sees me sulking in my seat and asks (mid-robot), “Why aren’t you dancing, Edgar Allen Bro?”
Man, if looks could kill.
I should have been at home eating pizza and watching Indiana Jones movies…but I’m sitting here with a bunch of weirdos trying to win a car. A familiar thought enters my brain – “What the hell is wrong with me?”
They move on to another game and select…yup, another sexy girl. But the host adds, “We need someone for her to play against.” He starts climbing the stairs to Loserville. Hmm…he’s getting pretty close to me. And then I hear:
“You, the referee!”
In a millisecond, my bad mood flies out the window. It’s time to play!
The game is basically just guessing if certain items are in her purse – a book, a deck of cards, and a pair of sunglasses. I guess all of them correctly, win the game, and pick up $1,500. He asks if I want to trade the money for a chance at what’s behind the curtain. I say, “Of course. I’m here to win a car” and they reveal…a motorcycle. Hard to feel bad about that. And, hey, at least it’s something motorized on wheels. Getting closer to the mission.
The show continues on and, with a few minutes to go, I’m asked if I want to trade the motorcycle for a chance at the “big deal of the day.” It’s their version of a showcase showdown…but with just one player. And, of course, with the risk of going home empty-handed.
“Let’s do it. I’m here to win a car.”
Grand finale time. The show all comes down to which of the 3 doors I’ll pick. During the commercial break, Loserville quickly becomes the coolest place in the studio. Suddenly, I’m like George Clooney in this roomful of weirdos. SuperGeek in the next seat thanks me for giving him a high-five, the hot girls in their skimpy costumes want to touch my dollar sign necklace, and everyone is trying to give me their pick. I notice one guy behind me who isn’t saying a word. In fact, he hasn’t made a sound the entire show. He looks almost like a medicine man with his long dreadlocks and ultra-serious expression. I turn around and ask, “What door do you think, man? One, two, or three?”
He looks at me as if there’s nobody else in the room.
Is it possible that all the secrets of the universe are behind his eyes?
He clears his throat.
With a James Earl Jones level of bass in his voice, he calmly says:
“One.”
The lights come up and it’s time for my pick. Of course, I go with the medicine man…and choose door number 1. For drama, they open up the other doors first…
Door number 3 is a big vault. Oh shit. This could be bad. They reveal the amount…
$2,500.
Ok, I survived that one. The big deal has to be worth more than that.
Door number 2 is…
A weeklong trip to San Antonio in a presidential suite with all the works.
Nice, but not enough to be the big deal.
Wait, does that mean…could the mission be accomplished?
(Door number 1 opens to reveal a Kia Forte)
WHAT??
I finally got my car.
Honestly, I didn’t care what make or model it was. I just wanted to win a car on a game show. And now I had. They said I also won the other two door items as well (the cash and trip). Obviously…it was a hell of a day. Significantly better than staying home to eat pizza and watch Raiders of the Lost Ark. The section previously known as Loserville was now officially a party. Those weirdos turned out to be very sweet. They were incredibly supportive and happy for me. I turned around to thank the medicine man, but he had vanished completely. Did he even exist? Had I imagined him the entire time?
That’s my experience. But what’s the answer to, “How do you win on a game show?” Well, obviously, there’s a lot of luck involved. I wasn’t exactly playing Jeopardy or anything that required me to have any brainpower. All I know is that, before you can win, you need to get on stage…
What that really comes down to is the 10 second “interview.” That’s where they make their contestant choices. 2 or 3 producers will sit down and say, “tell me about yourself” in a very calm tone of voice. Almost as if it’s a job interview. Businesslike. They’ll go down the line doing that with groups of 10 people at a time.
Naturally, we humans respond with a similar tone as the way we’re being spoken to.
A producer says, “Tell me about yourself.”
Most people answer, “Well I’m from Kansas. I teach second grade. And I hope to win a prize today.”
Next.
(If you do it like that, you’ll definitely be sitting in line to watch other weirdos play games)
What I do differently is this…
Producer: “Tell me about yourself.”
I yell, “I’M REALLY EXCITED TO BE HERE!!! WOO!!!” and immediately high-five the nearest person in line next to me. Then I answer the question.
That might seem simple and dumb. But pretty much everyone who’s listened to me has won a prize on a game show. Obviously, calm and collected isn’t the goal of those interviews. Producers should be wondering:
“If this dude gets that excited about ‘Tell me your name,’ what the hell will he do when he wins a car?”
Last person I told this to won a motorcycle. Others have won trips and other stuff. Anyway, that’s my game show story. I don’t know if I’ll ever go back now that the mission has been accomplished. But, hey, you never know…
