Let’s Make a Deal

Did you know that I once sent in an audition tape to Deal or No Deal? Remember that game show, the one where the contestant had to pick a case, it was theirs, and then they picked other cases (held conveniently by gorgeous models) and tried to wring the most money out of the banker? I remember watching that show and marveling at the stupidity (or greed — who can tell the difference?) of each person they would wheel out there, but I’ll get to that later. First, they would tell some tale of how they picked their numbered case. One of the funniest ones was this guy who swore he had run through every possible scenario on this computer program he created. He then proceeded to pick the #8 case, and in the end it had $1 in it. Or there was the lady who picked #3 because she had three children, and her case had $50 in it. I quickly realized there was honestly no rhyme or reason to which case had the million dollars in it, and I grew to admire the people who admitted that and just chose at random.

Now, that’s when the stupidity (okay, we’ll call it greed) made itself felt because even if the person had chosen the case totally at random they would still commit the following mistake. Once they started choosing cases, they would inevitably pick ones far apart, like they would start with #1 and then pick #23, or they would pick #4 and then #26. I think they assumed the big money amounts would be spread out, and they had less chance of hitting all of the major ones if they picked thusly. Also incorrect. They had just as much chance of hitting every single big money amount the way they were playing as they did of avoiding them. Then, they would compound the issue when they did in fact hit one of those big money amounts. You could almost see the switch being flipped in their minds. Directly after hitting a big money amount they would always go nearby for their next selection. Oh, the horror. Just like with the case they picked at the beginning, the random nature didn’t change just because they hit one they didn’t like.

The banker would also complicate matters with his offers. Periodically throughout the game the banker would interject to try and pay someone off for their case. His offers would inevitably start out low and pick up steam the further the game went without the contestant hitting one of the big money amounts. I figured out the banker angle almost from the start. He was there to make people feel better about their selection at first, and then he was there to keep them playing. Imagine if you turned down his offer for $60,000, you picked three more cases, all of big money amounts, and his next offer lowered to $42,000? That’s right. You know the million is still out there, and you were just looking at at least $60,000. You KNOW you’re going to get back to that amount, so you turn it down, pick three more cases, and the million is one of them. Now your offer is down to $7,000. You guessed it. No self-respecting person who turned down $60,000 will take $7,000… even though they all came there with NOTHING. That’s right. $7,000 is a pretty good mortgage payment, people. Or a diamond ring for your lady, Rico Suave. But they don’t think about that. Their greed has led them to the brink, so they play it out, and they realize their case has that $10 in it.

That’s when the looks on their faces is priceless, and Howie Mandel milks it for all it’s worth. Why not? He’s making truckloads of money to just stand there and point at cases, while schmoozing with the contestant’s family members and friends. He has just opened their case that they swore no less than 40 minutes before had the million dollars in it, and it’s $10. I’m sure old Howie could probably pull the ten bucks out of his pocket and give it to the contestant right on the spot, but they might hit him. The problem isn’t him, though, it’s that they let themselves get carried away on the rising tide. The audience was screaming, their family and friends were urging them to “do what you feel best,” and they lost perspective. Then they lost their chance at some good money.

I wasn’t going to be them. I was going to do it differently, and I made the mistake of saying all of that on my audition tape. Talk about dumb. While I was sitting safely at home ensconced in my Pooh bear blanket (hey, don’t judge) and fuzzy socks, judging those sad sack losers, I was making the even more epic mistake of showing my cards before I was even invited to play the game. No wonder they didn’t contact me. They knew I had it figured out, and that makes for bad TV, not to mention they might have finally had to give away that million dollar prize.  I still have a copy of that audition tape somewhere around here, a testament to the pot calling the kettle black, and then realizing his own color when it was too late.

Sam