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22 December 2023
This is my account of the day I spent in line at The Apprentice 2 open casting call in Cleveland.
Woke up at 5:00 AM. In line by 8:00 AM. I am immediately struck by how many people are in this line that have absolutely no business being here. They're either too old, too ugly, or a vicious mixture of both. As the girl manning the door politely put it: "Seems like some people were in a little over their heads."
For some enterprising souls, a 700-person casting line is an opportunity to make money. Shitty coffee is available for $3.00, and bagels are priced to gouge as well. I pass on both. The biggest rip-off is paying for a closer spot in line. The fools who camped out are asking $500 each. Unbelievable.
Meanwhile, the wheeling and dealing is rampant. Some guy is handing out fliers promoting his Internet travel book. A ratty mechanic is looking for start-up capital. And a born-again businessman who brought his personal assistant along for the fun is continually muttering into his cell phone. I overhear this particularly earnest snippet of conversation, and it makes me giggle: "All the work I do is the Lord's work."
Buy low. Sell high. Pray hard. Halle-fucking-lujah.
It's cold and misty, but not raining. There are a lot of people in suits, but I'm not one of them. I chose, instead, to go the freelance writer formal-cords and a semi-ironed white shirt route. I figure it won't matter. I can either be uncomfortable and not get on the show, or relatively comfortable and not get on the show. Either way, I've got a better shot than the bald guy in his late 40s wearing a Members Only jacket over his Tommy Bahama golf shirt.
Is it time to pull out my iPod yet? I'm trying to save the batteries for my drive home, but after the initial round of introductions to the people near me in line, I find that I dislike nearly all of them.
Around 10:00 AM, the production assistants give everyone a bracelet. They could save everyone a lot of time and energy by thinning the herd right now, but they're nice about it, and all 700 people get a bracelet. This means that they're guaranteed an interview, so many hop out of line to go take a nap. This leaves me standing next to different, better people.
I spend the next six hours joking with Chris (a smart guy from Columbus finishing his MBA), flirting with Katie (a cute sales rep from Sandusky who thinks I'm funny), and avoiding Steve (the biggest jackass on the planet).
To sum up Steve, I present you with this wonderful icebreaker he shouted to a girl exiting the bathroom: "Hey! How was the can?"
Without Chris and Katie, I don't think I would have made it through the day, but we managed to cobble together enough conversation topics, witty repartee, and handheld electronic Yahtzee competitions to make it to the front of the line and into a group interview.
The interview process worked like this: You go in ten at a time, and the surprisingly peppy casting director gives your group a discussion topic. Ours was: "MBAs. More or less qualified than non-MBAs?" A total bore, but I talked as much as I could without coming off like an asshole. After ten minutes, we were all quickly shuffled out the door. Apparently, if they liked you, they took a Polaroid, and talked to you for a minute or two individually. But they didn't do that for me, and at that point, I couldn't have cared less. Just wanted to get the whole thing over with so I could go home and take a nap.
But I left feeling strangely fulfilled. Like standing in line amongst deluded kooks for seven hours had somehow made me a better, more worldly person. Even now I find myself strangely craving more. Only next time, I want to push the envelope. Find out exactly how far people will go when given a tiny opportunity to be famous.
Anyone know when they start casting for the second season of Playing It Straight?
Woke up at 5:00 AM. In line by 8:00 AM. I am immediately struck by how many people are in this line that have absolutely no business being here. They're either too old, too ugly, or a vicious mixture of both. As the girl manning the door politely put it: "Seems like some people were in a little over their heads."
For some enterprising souls, a 700-person casting line is an opportunity to make money. Shitty coffee is available for $3.00, and bagels are priced to gouge as well. I pass on both. The biggest rip-off is paying for a closer spot in line. The fools who camped out are asking $500 each. Unbelievable.
Meanwhile, the wheeling and dealing is rampant. Some guy is handing out fliers promoting his Internet travel book. A ratty mechanic is looking for start-up capital. And a born-again businessman who brought his personal assistant along for the fun is continually muttering into his cell phone. I overhear this particularly earnest snippet of conversation, and it makes me giggle: "All the work I do is the Lord's work."
Buy low. Sell high. Pray hard. Halle-fucking-lujah.
It's cold and misty, but not raining. There are a lot of people in suits, but I'm not one of them. I chose, instead, to go the freelance writer formal-cords and a semi-ironed white shirt route. I figure it won't matter. I can either be uncomfortable and not get on the show, or relatively comfortable and not get on the show. Either way, I've got a better shot than the bald guy in his late 40s wearing a Members Only jacket over his Tommy Bahama golf shirt.
Is it time to pull out my iPod yet? I'm trying to save the batteries for my drive home, but after the initial round of introductions to the people near me in line, I find that I dislike nearly all of them.
Around 10:00 AM, the production assistants give everyone a bracelet. They could save everyone a lot of time and energy by thinning the herd right now, but they're nice about it, and all 700 people get a bracelet. This means that they're guaranteed an interview, so many hop out of line to go take a nap. This leaves me standing next to different, better people.
I spend the next six hours joking with Chris (a smart guy from Columbus finishing his MBA), flirting with Katie (a cute sales rep from Sandusky who thinks I'm funny), and avoiding Steve (the biggest jackass on the planet).
To sum up Steve, I present you with this wonderful icebreaker he shouted to a girl exiting the bathroom: "Hey! How was the can?"
Without Chris and Katie, I don't think I would have made it through the day, but we managed to cobble together enough conversation topics, witty repartee, and handheld electronic Yahtzee competitions to make it to the front of the line and into a group interview.
The interview process worked like this: You go in ten at a time, and the surprisingly peppy casting director gives your group a discussion topic. Ours was: "MBAs. More or less qualified than non-MBAs?" A total bore, but I talked as much as I could without coming off like an asshole. After ten minutes, we were all quickly shuffled out the door. Apparently, if they liked you, they took a Polaroid, and talked to you for a minute or two individually. But they didn't do that for me, and at that point, I couldn't have cared less. Just wanted to get the whole thing over with so I could go home and take a nap.
But I left feeling strangely fulfilled. Like standing in line amongst deluded kooks for seven hours had somehow made me a better, more worldly person. Even now I find myself strangely craving more. Only next time, I want to push the envelope. Find out exactly how far people will go when given a tiny opportunity to be famous.
Anyone know when they start casting for the second season of Playing It Straight?
artid
2249
Old Image
6_8_apprentice.jpg
issue
vol 6 - issue 08 (apr 2004)
section
stories