Writer dives into ‘Millionaire’ audition

Working at a newspaper isn’t exactly the formula for becoming a self-made millionaire these days. So that’s why I decided to audition for “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” Monday when the show’s traveling auditions barreled through Kansas City.

It was a Midwesterner’s only chance for an audition, unless one wanted to travel to Nashville, Charlotte, Indianapolis, Tampa or Houston.

I was admittedly still smarting from not attending last year when the auditions hit KC, only to witness my friend and fellow film writer Eric Melin end up on the syndicated show, eventually knee deep in five figures of cashola.

So I headed to the Ameristar Casino — not typically a magnet for intellectual pursuits — and waited in line with the other 800 or so folks.

They divided us into separate groups, 150 or so filing into the Star Pavilion concert venue each hour. We were given a “Millionaire” pencil and magnet, on the back of which was written our personal ID number. Mine was 37.

Once wrangled into unnervingly close seating, we were told by a perky production staff member that we were going to take two tests: one was for the “regular” show, the other for the “Million Dollar Movie Week” sponsored by Netflix. (This is the one Melin aced last time out.)

We readied our No. 2 pencils and a four-box multiple choice questionnaire — mimicking the show format — and were asked to answer 30 questions in 10 minutes. I was only halfway done when the staffer gave the five-minute warning on the general test. The film test went much smoother, and I sat for a minute while the others finished.

Did I feel confident with my trivia skills? Yes.

Did I think I had a shot at making the show? Not exactly.

As I looked around, I noticed a few other Lawrence trivia ringers. Then it occurred to me that everybody in the audience could be a local ringer of sorts. What if they drove in all the way from Oklahoma, where they were the kingpin of all panhandle-region trivia? Technically, we were the closest audition city to the West Coast. That might prove problematic on a “film” quiz.

My self-assurance began to waver.

But then they announced the results …

First, they called the qualifying numbers for the regular show.

“Number 37 …”

Score! I was one of six folks who passed.

Next they announced the film results, and I was one of only two people who passed. In fact, I was one of only two total who passed both tests.

We were each handed a Wonka-style golden ticket (actually, it was more canary yellow), and we shot photos of us holding “Millionaire” logos with our name and city on them. I remember the advice Melin provided: “Don’t forget to smile.”

We were also given a list of questions to fill out. Without revealing specifics, they involved personal details and observations. A separate film one proved much more elaborate, and it offered me a chance to put my writing skills to good use. Here was where I felt like I could really distinguish myself from, say, a trivia-proficient orthodontist.

A brief three-hour delay, and then 75 of us met in a much smaller venue within the casino to go through rounds of interviews with the production staff.

We sat lined up in wooden chairs while three field producers called up our respective names (not numbers) for a brief one-on-one interview. Most who were called up were talked to for a few minutes then sent packing. I don’t know if they were specifically informed it was the end of the line, but the situation seemed pretty clear: Unless you were invited to stay, the producers had little use for you.

Occasionally, a lucky contestant was selected to go sit and wait in yet another section. The few. The proud.

When my name was called I sauntered up to the young, attractive staffer and tried to be as confident, amusing and flirty as necessary without being TOO confident, amusing or flirty.

Oddly enough, it worked. I was ushered off to the final round.

About 15 of us chatted until the rest of the room had cleared out. Then my turn arrived. I was escorted to a private room where I stood before a giant “Millionaire” backdrop and answered some basic interview questions while being videotaped.

I’ll admit this was my least favorite part of the process. With the lights in your face and all, I felt like I was being questioned by someone in the witness protection program. Intimate interaction was nowhere to be found. Although I tried to keep it light and entertaining, deep down I felt like a hostage forced to read a statement.

Now it’s down to a waiting game. Apparently, I will receive a postcard in the mail within the next few weeks that will inform me whether I made the national cut.

So as of now, I only have my “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” pencil and magnet to show for my ordeal. But ultimately, I might have earned a million dollars worth of experience.