“You’d be perfect,” he said. “It’s a panel. I have two men and I need a businesswoman. Plus you’d get some publicity. Are you free Tuesday?”
“Sure!” I say enthusiastically.
My ego had just agreed to be a contestant in the inaugural taping of a TV game show before a live audience.
While I have images of the Price is Right on the black and white television of my childhood, I have never been a big fan of TV game shows. Not Jeopardy. Not Wheel of Fortune. I don’t even know what they fight about on Family Feud.
It’s not just TV games. My brain has some deeply grooved neuropathways when it comes to simultaneously playing and competing. As a litigator I was always up for the fight, but the thought of a game of Trivial Pursuit can break me into a cold sweat.
Growing up I played Monopoly with the Frank family across the street. They had eight children, each of whose name started with a “T.” Tammy, Terry, Tracy and so forth. I thought the games dragged on forever. I was more interested in eating the popcorn and Mrs. Frank’s chocolate fudge.
I have never been a part of Bunko group or a poker party. My mother took up card playing as a widow in her 80s. Her close friends had all died and she was desperate to make some new ones. This I understand.
The audience is seated in rows. Jim, Luke, and I do our sound checks. The lights are bright and hot. Count down—3, 2, 1—“Welcome everyone!”
Before I know it I am drawing a picture with a Sharpie, remembering that art wrecked my GPA. I clap energetically for every right answer of my opponents. I smile a lot.
During the lightning round I am relieved that Luke agrees with my selection of a multiple choice answer about the best business strategy for selling some unknown product, especially when the judge declares us both wrong.
Soon I hear, “Let’s have a round of applause for all of our contestants!”
I may not bring any great desire, experience, or talent. But I can always bring myself—saying yes with enthusiasm, applauding others, and smiling.
Are you willing to say “yes” to an unknown opportunity?
Do your childhood thoughts stop you from being your true self today?
Would it be alright to not take yourself so seriously?