My Detroit audition
Posted: Sun Aug 17, 2008 10:13 pm
Hey, y'all!
It's me, Jason Idalski (a.k.a. calvin_hobbes29), the former e-jipt-teen! Sorry I've disappeared from here ... here's my life in a nutshell since graduating from high school:
After five years at Eastern Michigan, graduated in April '06 with a triple major in economics, math and journalism. Went to work in the sports department of the Grand Rapids Press, where I interned at EMU. It was supposed to be a six-month internship, turned into 18 before I left to look for a "real" job. About a month later, Sept. of this year, I was hired in the sports dept. of the Battle Creek Enquirer. Wasn't thrilled with the job, so when a college friend told me about a job at the Lansing State Journal (about three times as large), I interviewed for it, got it, started March 31. My first foray as a news copy editor.
Frank's turned me into a tournament Scrabble addict. In fact, now my rating is higher than his! I'll probably never view him as "worse" since he taught me almost everything I know, but he admits some parts of my game are better than his. Also, at a national tournament last August in Dayton, we performed "Dylan's Dads," a play based on our relationship, after which I came out.
While I may not be around any more, don't think I've forgotten about all my jipter moms. Y'all helped keep me sane as a "smarty-pants" in a cliquish high school.
Here's a slightly edited version of what I posted to my livejournal about my Detroit audition (I roped Frank into getting one too, bwahahaha!). Setting the scene, the prior eight days I: worked the night Obama came to Lansing, worked election night, had lunch with my "mentor" and said college friend, visited family I hadn't seen in years, captained and co-directed a Michigan vs. Ohio Scrabble tournament and worked until 12:30 a.m. Wednesday morning.
>>
To "prepare" for my audition I re-read a book I got a while ago: Noreen Wald's "Contestant," about how she appeared on seven (IIRC) game shows. Definitely out of print. I'm pretty sure I got it cheap, and if I didn't I overpaid. Anyhow, the first part is about her "career" and the second is how to become a contestant. She breaks it down into four parts: Image, Motivation, Ability, Confidence. IMAC = I'm a contestant. I kept that all in mind once I left work at 12:30 Wednesday morning. (I actually called in sick Tuesday so I could be better prepared, but an attack of conscience hit and I went to work anyway. Then I started not feeling well...) Let one long-@$$ day begin...
The drive from Lansing to Dearborn is about 1:30, but I had to stop of Meijer for gas and since I forgot to bring Vitamin Water: Energy, which got me through some long days in college and Grand Rapids. The goal was to be asleep by 2:30 and set the alarm for 6:00, which would give me time to eat a quick breakfast and arrive before 7:00 to guarantee a spot. Ha!
I'd plugged in the address for U-M Dearborn (4901 Evergreen, where the audition was) and figured I'd find a hotel nearby. Got off at Southfield Road, like directions said, but missed my turn. Doubled back, but due to construction couldn't turn left onto Evergreen. Forced to loop around again, so that added a few minutes.
Well, no hotels on Evergreen. So I got back onto Southfield to stop at a Hampton Inn that I saw. Nope, totally booked. Back on Southfield. The only other hotel I see is a Hyatt just off the freeway. Turn too early, so I'm forced to double back for like the 20th time. I turn when I'm supposed to this time, but that doesn't change matters, as I see the entrance to the parking lot isn't on Southfield, but Evergreen. I walk in and find out the only rooms that are left have two double beds. I find out it'll be $(ungodly number I didn't really want to pay for a room I was only crashing in for three hours and showering in).
My head (which told me to turn around about 2:30 when the Hampton Inn was booked) told me to give up the ghost. It was now about quarter to 3:00 and this endeavor was now costing gas plus $(ungodly number) if I chose to continue. And how did I expect to perform well on three hours' sleep? My heart told me to follow my dreams and asked the question a friend asked after Michigan vs. Ohio when I told him I still wasn't sure if I'd audition. "How often do you live?" he said.
Head vs. heart: No contest. I checked in.
Woke up at 6:00, got ready, ate a quick breakfast of two leftover fortune cookies, hoping I'd a get a good, prescient, relevant fortune. (Alas.) As the 341st person to arrive, snuck into the first session, which I'd guess had 375 people. One of the coordinators held the door open as we filed in. "Stuck with door duty?" I asked, trying to smile. "I like holding doors," she said, with an emphasis on "like," as if I was a total self-centered jerk for implying that it wasn't the most glamorous job in the universe. I hoped she wouldn't stand in judge of my fate. (Note to self: No more lame jokes to contestant coordinators.)
We took two tests, the first one for Movie Week. Now, I watch movies about as often as Canada medals in swimming at the Olympics, so I viewed it as a nice test-taking warm up. Of the 30 questions, I only remember knowing three: one on "You've Got Mail," one on "The Gods Must Be Crazy" (a quiz bowl question many moons ago) and one on "Jumanji." I found myself saying repeatedly: "2007 movie (title)? 2007?! I've never heard of this movie!" (Note to self: Find pop culture phone-a-friend material.) Dress rehearsal over, time for the real deal.
I remembered someone saying that 27 of the 30 were needed to pass. Now, the coordinators refused to answer anything number-related, whether it was how many it takes to pass, what percentage of people pass, etc. But I began with the goal of 27 and if I needed that, I failed. I was willing to stake my life on 18 of the 30, and another five or six I was reasonably sure on, but the rest were educated guesses. Can't remember any where, like on the movie quiz, it might as well have been written in Swahili.
Found out I, at a minimum, missed the show deemed "the East Coast version of the O.C.," struggled with the pasta sauce coming from the Italian for "pound" (I could sense Frank cluck disapprovingly as I struggled, but I guessed right), missed the part of the eye with rods and cones and the city in which Rosa Parks didn't board the bus. (I always get Selma and Montgomery confused!)
The crowd got to ask questions about the show while our tests were graded. I could answer most myself (despite having rarely watched the Syndie version), so I was only half paying attention (and now I'm confused on the postcard/phone call procedure). Finally, she announced the passers. Of a little less than 400 in the room, 22 passed the movie quiz, including No. 342, who logically sat next to me. She was so subdued I had to make sure she had passed and I congratulated her.
Then the main passers. She started in the 200s, then the 100s, then the double-digits. She went down from the high 300s and skipped 341. Damn. But she'd been going back and filling in gaps, so I wasn't too worried. After announcing a few more away from the 300s, she got back to the high 300s, counting down. I was making tick marks for each person that passed (for LJing purposes) and felt I'd done about 150 by this point, even though it was only about 80. I wasn't so much concerned with not passing, but not passing when this many people had? I mean, I was co-captain on a third-in-the-state quiz bowl team my junior year! I tried to brace myself as she called a number in the 350s. "Jason, if you don't pass, don't get down on yourself," I thought. "This test has no bearing on your intelligence. You're a smart guy if your number's called or not." Then I heard "341". I hissed a quiet "yes!" and gave a small fist pump. (Class? Highly overrated.) Ah, who cares about those questions I should've known/might've missed? The slate's clear now, baby! I then counted 106 passers of the main test, but I may have missed one or two while celebrating. Knowing that between 1/4 and 1/3 of the room passed made me appreciate passing all the more.
The passers were all given a contestant application to fill out (including a page of "No, I've never had lunch with Meredith Vieira"-type questions) and we had our pictures taken. It was now shortly after 9:00. I was near the end, so I got a 1:30 interview time instead of 12:30. No need to worry about being late for work at 4:30. While waiting, I texted my Ohio friend, told him I passed after nearly backing out, and thanked him for his "How often do you live?" question.
Back to the hotel room to fill out the form (included just about everything interesting about me that I could ... the one thing I would like to have mentioned but didn't see a way to work into any of the eight questions was that I inspired someone to write a play) and grab a couple more hours sleep before checking out. Then lunch at TGI Friday's (saw a guy a few booths away who looked to be filling out his contestant app). Arrived back on campus about 1:00.
Look for a Charles Watkins from Detroit to make it. When he came to check in, he pointed at the two young women from the local affiliate working the event and said: "If they weren't here, I'd have said 'They postponed the interview, y'all come back tomorrow.'" They asked for picture ID as they matched our name, contestant number and pictures. One asked for his photo ID and the other said: "Your number?" He responded: "We just met, don't get so fresh!" It took her a while to realize what he meant. He had a lot of us laughing and I know I viewed him as competition.
I was stunned by the dress of some people. An inordinate amount of baseball caps, T-shirts and jeans (mostly men) for the test. Not surprisingly, though, most failed. The two guys I sat next to post-passing seemed to be having a d*ck-measuring contest as they compared notes on the various shows each had tried out for. One had a T-shirt saying: "This shirt has words on it" (what a laugh riot). I figured he'd be changing over lunch but he had the same shirt for the interview. Maybe I'm just a fuddy-duddy, but if I'm a contestant coordinator, I'm looking for someone who's taking this seriously. I chose a metallic-colored long-sleeved dress shirt and navy slacks, an outfit I've got compliments on before, smart and attention grabbing but not over the top.
"Door girl" was one of the three interviewers. I knew they'd be short, confirmed by how quickly they were calling numbers. My fears of getting "door girl" were allayed, as she seemed to be handling the 100s, while somebody else took the 200s and a third person the 300s. My interviewer seemed to start with the same question: "What made you try out today?" So, I reviewed the high notes of my answer on the app: Always a game-show fan, friend just taped for Jeopardy (airs Sept. 8 ... ask Frank about Kurt Davies!), got the itch, in NYC in October, thought I'd see a taping/audition there, saw on your site you were here, how convenient! Heard a lot of "What would you do with the money?"s so I re-re-re-reminded myself to stick to the basics. House instead of apartment, replacing my 120K-mile car. I put "travel to a foreign country (outside of Canada)" on my sheet, but didn't want to mention that.
My number was called. I remembered the most important part, as Wald wrote: "You're never fully dressed without that bloody prerequisite smile." I grinned like an idiot throughout. I looked to have the most friendly/outgoing coordinator, and I answered both questions flawlessly, with some slight babbling about my car. I spoke quickly, as I always do when nervous, but I like to think that only added to the enthusiasm I was trying to project. (When I mentioned NYC, she invited me to attend a taping. "Research!" I said.) She asked where Battle Creek was in relation to Detroit (I hope they want geographic diversity!), I pointed to my right hand accordingly and said I recently started working in Lansing and pointed to my palm. She asked how long I'd been a copy editor. I was worried I'd be looking to see if she was taking notes like "Shave the beard," "totally fake smile," "looks like someone who'd make snotty comments about holding doors," etc., but I made good eye contact throughout, no idea how much (or little, if any) she wrote. "Great!" she said after the last question. "Well, how it works now is, you'll get a postcard from us in two to three weeks letting you know if you're in the contestant pool!" And that was that.
So, like I said, there was some minor stuff I wish I could change. Wanted to get a haircut Tuesday, didn't (my hair's about as long as it's ever been right now, but I at least trimmed the beard appropriately); noticed my fingernails were super-long and way overdue for a clipping, wished I'd had more sleep/prepared better by reserving a hotel room nearby, etc. But, I think my application and interview project the image I wanted to project. (Re-thinking some of my written answers, of course, and hoping I didn't get marked down for, on the app, putting my work number of "(517)" ... then realizing I can never remember the copy desk's number and it's not in my cell. I think I had it in my bag, but forgot to look and didn't notice until it was too late. But, if they call between 9 and 5, I won't be at work anyway. Still, that looks weird. "Work: (517)" and space for seven digits. Damn absentmindedness.) As for whether my image is the one they're looking for, who knows? But I'm pleased overall, definitely.
Now we wait. Keep appropriate appendages crossed for a "happy postcard"!
These past nine days put me through the wringer. I underdid the Vitamin Water in the morning, because I felt fine (even though I know from experience that a short sleep doesn't affect you early, because the body's metabolism doesn't go into "hibernation mode." It's later in the day when the lack of sleep takes its toll). At about 5:30, only there an hour, I snuck away to the employee breakroom to take a nap on the couch, but people kept walking in to get something from the vending machines.
After about 15 minutes, I deemed it pointless and went back to work, but only lasted half-an-hour before leaving again. I them was out like a light for half-an-hour (thank God I woke up, otherwise gone for two hours at 8:15, they might've sent out a search party). When I woke up, I felt like I'd been asleep for hours: groggy, dizzy, etc. And when I walked back to my desk, I was worried somebody would ask if I was all right (given how most knew I called in sick Tues. but showed up). But eventually the caffeine and guarana of the Vitamin Water plus the sugar of a Tootsie Roll coursed through my system and, starting around 7:30, I was perfectly fine. But I enjoyed the ensuing two days off!
<<
Jason
It's me, Jason Idalski (a.k.a. calvin_hobbes29), the former e-jipt-teen! Sorry I've disappeared from here ... here's my life in a nutshell since graduating from high school:
After five years at Eastern Michigan, graduated in April '06 with a triple major in economics, math and journalism. Went to work in the sports department of the Grand Rapids Press, where I interned at EMU. It was supposed to be a six-month internship, turned into 18 before I left to look for a "real" job. About a month later, Sept. of this year, I was hired in the sports dept. of the Battle Creek Enquirer. Wasn't thrilled with the job, so when a college friend told me about a job at the Lansing State Journal (about three times as large), I interviewed for it, got it, started March 31. My first foray as a news copy editor.
Frank's turned me into a tournament Scrabble addict. In fact, now my rating is higher than his! I'll probably never view him as "worse" since he taught me almost everything I know, but he admits some parts of my game are better than his. Also, at a national tournament last August in Dayton, we performed "Dylan's Dads," a play based on our relationship, after which I came out.
While I may not be around any more, don't think I've forgotten about all my jipter moms. Y'all helped keep me sane as a "smarty-pants" in a cliquish high school.
Here's a slightly edited version of what I posted to my livejournal about my Detroit audition (I roped Frank into getting one too, bwahahaha!). Setting the scene, the prior eight days I: worked the night Obama came to Lansing, worked election night, had lunch with my "mentor" and said college friend, visited family I hadn't seen in years, captained and co-directed a Michigan vs. Ohio Scrabble tournament and worked until 12:30 a.m. Wednesday morning.
>>
To "prepare" for my audition I re-read a book I got a while ago: Noreen Wald's "Contestant," about how she appeared on seven (IIRC) game shows. Definitely out of print. I'm pretty sure I got it cheap, and if I didn't I overpaid. Anyhow, the first part is about her "career" and the second is how to become a contestant. She breaks it down into four parts: Image, Motivation, Ability, Confidence. IMAC = I'm a contestant. I kept that all in mind once I left work at 12:30 Wednesday morning. (I actually called in sick Tuesday so I could be better prepared, but an attack of conscience hit and I went to work anyway. Then I started not feeling well...) Let one long-@$$ day begin...
The drive from Lansing to Dearborn is about 1:30, but I had to stop of Meijer for gas and since I forgot to bring Vitamin Water: Energy, which got me through some long days in college and Grand Rapids. The goal was to be asleep by 2:30 and set the alarm for 6:00, which would give me time to eat a quick breakfast and arrive before 7:00 to guarantee a spot. Ha!
I'd plugged in the address for U-M Dearborn (4901 Evergreen, where the audition was) and figured I'd find a hotel nearby. Got off at Southfield Road, like directions said, but missed my turn. Doubled back, but due to construction couldn't turn left onto Evergreen. Forced to loop around again, so that added a few minutes.
Well, no hotels on Evergreen. So I got back onto Southfield to stop at a Hampton Inn that I saw. Nope, totally booked. Back on Southfield. The only other hotel I see is a Hyatt just off the freeway. Turn too early, so I'm forced to double back for like the 20th time. I turn when I'm supposed to this time, but that doesn't change matters, as I see the entrance to the parking lot isn't on Southfield, but Evergreen. I walk in and find out the only rooms that are left have two double beds. I find out it'll be $(ungodly number I didn't really want to pay for a room I was only crashing in for three hours and showering in).
My head (which told me to turn around about 2:30 when the Hampton Inn was booked) told me to give up the ghost. It was now about quarter to 3:00 and this endeavor was now costing gas plus $(ungodly number) if I chose to continue. And how did I expect to perform well on three hours' sleep? My heart told me to follow my dreams and asked the question a friend asked after Michigan vs. Ohio when I told him I still wasn't sure if I'd audition. "How often do you live?" he said.
Head vs. heart: No contest. I checked in.
Woke up at 6:00, got ready, ate a quick breakfast of two leftover fortune cookies, hoping I'd a get a good, prescient, relevant fortune. (Alas.) As the 341st person to arrive, snuck into the first session, which I'd guess had 375 people. One of the coordinators held the door open as we filed in. "Stuck with door duty?" I asked, trying to smile. "I like holding doors," she said, with an emphasis on "like," as if I was a total self-centered jerk for implying that it wasn't the most glamorous job in the universe. I hoped she wouldn't stand in judge of my fate. (Note to self: No more lame jokes to contestant coordinators.)
We took two tests, the first one for Movie Week. Now, I watch movies about as often as Canada medals in swimming at the Olympics, so I viewed it as a nice test-taking warm up. Of the 30 questions, I only remember knowing three: one on "You've Got Mail," one on "The Gods Must Be Crazy" (a quiz bowl question many moons ago) and one on "Jumanji." I found myself saying repeatedly: "2007 movie (title)? 2007?! I've never heard of this movie!" (Note to self: Find pop culture phone-a-friend material.) Dress rehearsal over, time for the real deal.
I remembered someone saying that 27 of the 30 were needed to pass. Now, the coordinators refused to answer anything number-related, whether it was how many it takes to pass, what percentage of people pass, etc. But I began with the goal of 27 and if I needed that, I failed. I was willing to stake my life on 18 of the 30, and another five or six I was reasonably sure on, but the rest were educated guesses. Can't remember any where, like on the movie quiz, it might as well have been written in Swahili.
Found out I, at a minimum, missed the show deemed "the East Coast version of the O.C.," struggled with the pasta sauce coming from the Italian for "pound" (I could sense Frank cluck disapprovingly as I struggled, but I guessed right), missed the part of the eye with rods and cones and the city in which Rosa Parks didn't board the bus. (I always get Selma and Montgomery confused!)
The crowd got to ask questions about the show while our tests were graded. I could answer most myself (despite having rarely watched the Syndie version), so I was only half paying attention (and now I'm confused on the postcard/phone call procedure). Finally, she announced the passers. Of a little less than 400 in the room, 22 passed the movie quiz, including No. 342, who logically sat next to me. She was so subdued I had to make sure she had passed and I congratulated her.
Then the main passers. She started in the 200s, then the 100s, then the double-digits. She went down from the high 300s and skipped 341. Damn. But she'd been going back and filling in gaps, so I wasn't too worried. After announcing a few more away from the 300s, she got back to the high 300s, counting down. I was making tick marks for each person that passed (for LJing purposes) and felt I'd done about 150 by this point, even though it was only about 80. I wasn't so much concerned with not passing, but not passing when this many people had? I mean, I was co-captain on a third-in-the-state quiz bowl team my junior year! I tried to brace myself as she called a number in the 350s. "Jason, if you don't pass, don't get down on yourself," I thought. "This test has no bearing on your intelligence. You're a smart guy if your number's called or not." Then I heard "341". I hissed a quiet "yes!" and gave a small fist pump. (Class? Highly overrated.) Ah, who cares about those questions I should've known/might've missed? The slate's clear now, baby! I then counted 106 passers of the main test, but I may have missed one or two while celebrating. Knowing that between 1/4 and 1/3 of the room passed made me appreciate passing all the more.
The passers were all given a contestant application to fill out (including a page of "No, I've never had lunch with Meredith Vieira"-type questions) and we had our pictures taken. It was now shortly after 9:00. I was near the end, so I got a 1:30 interview time instead of 12:30. No need to worry about being late for work at 4:30. While waiting, I texted my Ohio friend, told him I passed after nearly backing out, and thanked him for his "How often do you live?" question.
Back to the hotel room to fill out the form (included just about everything interesting about me that I could ... the one thing I would like to have mentioned but didn't see a way to work into any of the eight questions was that I inspired someone to write a play) and grab a couple more hours sleep before checking out. Then lunch at TGI Friday's (saw a guy a few booths away who looked to be filling out his contestant app). Arrived back on campus about 1:00.
Look for a Charles Watkins from Detroit to make it. When he came to check in, he pointed at the two young women from the local affiliate working the event and said: "If they weren't here, I'd have said 'They postponed the interview, y'all come back tomorrow.'" They asked for picture ID as they matched our name, contestant number and pictures. One asked for his photo ID and the other said: "Your number?" He responded: "We just met, don't get so fresh!" It took her a while to realize what he meant. He had a lot of us laughing and I know I viewed him as competition.
I was stunned by the dress of some people. An inordinate amount of baseball caps, T-shirts and jeans (mostly men) for the test. Not surprisingly, though, most failed. The two guys I sat next to post-passing seemed to be having a d*ck-measuring contest as they compared notes on the various shows each had tried out for. One had a T-shirt saying: "This shirt has words on it" (what a laugh riot). I figured he'd be changing over lunch but he had the same shirt for the interview. Maybe I'm just a fuddy-duddy, but if I'm a contestant coordinator, I'm looking for someone who's taking this seriously. I chose a metallic-colored long-sleeved dress shirt and navy slacks, an outfit I've got compliments on before, smart and attention grabbing but not over the top.
"Door girl" was one of the three interviewers. I knew they'd be short, confirmed by how quickly they were calling numbers. My fears of getting "door girl" were allayed, as she seemed to be handling the 100s, while somebody else took the 200s and a third person the 300s. My interviewer seemed to start with the same question: "What made you try out today?" So, I reviewed the high notes of my answer on the app: Always a game-show fan, friend just taped for Jeopardy (airs Sept. 8 ... ask Frank about Kurt Davies!), got the itch, in NYC in October, thought I'd see a taping/audition there, saw on your site you were here, how convenient! Heard a lot of "What would you do with the money?"s so I re-re-re-reminded myself to stick to the basics. House instead of apartment, replacing my 120K-mile car. I put "travel to a foreign country (outside of Canada)" on my sheet, but didn't want to mention that.
My number was called. I remembered the most important part, as Wald wrote: "You're never fully dressed without that bloody prerequisite smile." I grinned like an idiot throughout. I looked to have the most friendly/outgoing coordinator, and I answered both questions flawlessly, with some slight babbling about my car. I spoke quickly, as I always do when nervous, but I like to think that only added to the enthusiasm I was trying to project. (When I mentioned NYC, she invited me to attend a taping. "Research!" I said.) She asked where Battle Creek was in relation to Detroit (I hope they want geographic diversity!), I pointed to my right hand accordingly and said I recently started working in Lansing and pointed to my palm. She asked how long I'd been a copy editor. I was worried I'd be looking to see if she was taking notes like "Shave the beard," "totally fake smile," "looks like someone who'd make snotty comments about holding doors," etc., but I made good eye contact throughout, no idea how much (or little, if any) she wrote. "Great!" she said after the last question. "Well, how it works now is, you'll get a postcard from us in two to three weeks letting you know if you're in the contestant pool!" And that was that.
So, like I said, there was some minor stuff I wish I could change. Wanted to get a haircut Tuesday, didn't (my hair's about as long as it's ever been right now, but I at least trimmed the beard appropriately); noticed my fingernails were super-long and way overdue for a clipping, wished I'd had more sleep/prepared better by reserving a hotel room nearby, etc. But, I think my application and interview project the image I wanted to project. (Re-thinking some of my written answers, of course, and hoping I didn't get marked down for, on the app, putting my work number of "(517)" ... then realizing I can never remember the copy desk's number and it's not in my cell. I think I had it in my bag, but forgot to look and didn't notice until it was too late. But, if they call between 9 and 5, I won't be at work anyway. Still, that looks weird. "Work: (517)" and space for seven digits. Damn absentmindedness.) As for whether my image is the one they're looking for, who knows? But I'm pleased overall, definitely.
Now we wait. Keep appropriate appendages crossed for a "happy postcard"!
These past nine days put me through the wringer. I underdid the Vitamin Water in the morning, because I felt fine (even though I know from experience that a short sleep doesn't affect you early, because the body's metabolism doesn't go into "hibernation mode." It's later in the day when the lack of sleep takes its toll). At about 5:30, only there an hour, I snuck away to the employee breakroom to take a nap on the couch, but people kept walking in to get something from the vending machines.
After about 15 minutes, I deemed it pointless and went back to work, but only lasted half-an-hour before leaving again. I them was out like a light for half-an-hour (thank God I woke up, otherwise gone for two hours at 8:15, they might've sent out a search party). When I woke up, I felt like I'd been asleep for hours: groggy, dizzy, etc. And when I walked back to my desk, I was worried somebody would ask if I was all right (given how most knew I called in sick Tues. but showed up). But eventually the caffeine and guarana of the Vitamin Water plus the sugar of a Tootsie Roll coursed through my system and, starting around 7:30, I was perfectly fine. But I enjoyed the ensuing two days off!
<<
Jason
card!