What kind of a horrible world do we live in where being a carry-over champion on Wheel of Fortune means nothing?
That’s the reality I have to face as I start to accept the fact that I may never hear from the producers of the new SBS game show, Letters and Numbers, for which I auditioned almost three weeks ago.
How could they ignore me? I thought I was a shoo-in. I thought I had a pedigree. Have you ever appeared on Australian television before? the questionnaire cooed. Regardless of the outcome of the actual quiz part of the audition, that question was the great divider. That was the filter that separated the wheat (me) from the chaff (the unwashed peasants who had not had the good fortune to grace the tube before). Have you ever appeared on Australian television before? The subtext was as plain as day: Are you one of us? And I am. Aren’t I?
In 2006, I appeared as a contestant on Wheel of Fortune. I had a shaved head, an unironed shirt and someone else’s shoes (borrowed from an upcoming contestant, as my sneakers were deemed “unsuitable”), but I was a contestant nonetheless. I bantered with Larry Emdur; I flirted awkwardly with Laura Csortan.
Or maybe it was the other way around.
I was shot in the foot early on with a Bankrupt. I used my Free Spin. I got an N for Nelly, I bought a vowel, I solved it thanks Larry. I earned my stripes, dammit!
And what does this mean to the SBS people? Nothing.
I was the model contestant, too. I followed the producer’s instructions to the letter. When she said don’t clap up high because the sound will distort your lapel microphone, I clapped down low. I looked like a seal, but I did as I was told.
When she said act more excited, because if this doesn’t make entertaining television we won’t air the episode and you won’t get your prizes, I acted more excited. I looked like I was auditioning for the Wiggles, but I did as I was told.
When she said make sure you spin the wheel properly, it has to make one full revolution or it doesn’t count, I put my back into it and spun that thing off its freaking axis. I got so into it I nearly lost my balance and went over the railing. I could have been the first person to ever die on the set of Wheel of Fortune—impaled by Top Dollar—but I did as I was told.
And what does this mean to the SBS people? Nothing.
Oh sure, there are some who might say that it was the lacklustre performance on my quiz that sealed my fate. And yes, for one of the mathematical problems all I wrote in the answer box was “oh no!”; but that can’t be it, surely. There’s got to be more to it than that. No, I sense something bigger is afoot. Some kind of larger mystery. A mystery that may never be solved.
At least, I can’t solve it. And I know about solving things, I was on Wheel of Fortune, you know.
