Journal of a Living Lady #207
Nancy White Kelly
While I am not obsessed with
the green stuff, don’t try to beat me out of it. That makes me a little huffy
and brings to mind another saying, “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” As
old as this maxim is, it fits today. I am
not angry, just a little miffed. I was denied my opportunity for fortune—twice!
It has also been said that
Buddy, Charlie, Tori and I
just returned from a wonderful trip to the Big Apple. I had tickets to the Good
Morning America Show which required us to be in the studio by
I did have a brief but
delightful conversation with Charlie Gibson and Diane Sawyer. I hope they understood
our need to leave quickly. My Charlie and I had that important appointment to
keep. Buddy and Tori would come later to join us.
The winding string of human
bodies hugged the tall ABC building. Time passed slowly while we awaited
instructions. When Buddy and Tori arrived, an assistant told them that they couldn’t
sit with us in the audience for the taping of the show unless they also took
the test. Reluctantly they joined us in the line, laughing at the thought of
making it to the hot seat. Buddy hoped he wouldn’t.
Soon we were all given a clip
board with a biographical survey to complete. Questions included, “What is the
first thing you would buy if you won a million dollars?” Later we four shared
our written answers. I thought it was interesting that none of us could be
accused of personal greed.
Eventually we were led into
the ABC building, screened individually by a security guard, and then seated in
the circular seats surrounding the Millionaire set. Though brightly lit, the
stage and seating area was surprisingly small. We were given #2 pencils, a machine-scorable
answer sheet, and a large, sealed manila envelope containing 30 test questions.
We were instructed to write our names on the top of the scoring sheet. When
told to begin, we would have just ten minutes to shade in the ovals.
Just as the “go” was given, my
answer form floated away by the rush of air from others hurrying to open their
envelopes. My heart sank. I saw my blank answer sheet go under a seat three
people away in the row ahead. Understandably, nobody noticed except Buddy. He put
his blank answer sheet in my lap. I completed the test in the few remaining
minutes and wrote “Mrs.” on the name line. The questions were hard, much harder
than those on the show. At the end of the taping, about ten names were called
to remain for an interview. Those who passed the interview would receive a postcard
saying they were qualified for the “entry pool.”
As we headed outside, a young
man shoved a flyer in my hand. The bold text stated that we could try again
tomorrow if we were there by
The next day, Charlie, Buddy,
and Tori wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. Since I had been there before, I
elected to stay behind and go for the Millionaire Show again.
I was in line early and stood
for almost two hours. It is difficult for me to stand or sit long because of
the metastasized cancer in my spine. I forced myself anyway. A few drops of
morphine helped numb the pain.
The people in line behind me
were friendly. We drilled each other with trivia questions. Finally a helper
passed out the familiar survey form which I dutifully completed.
A woman from the show told the
two people in front of me that they could leave as long as they were back by
“Where did you go?” one of
the ladies asked with concern. Though she had called after me, I was too far down
the noisy street to hear her. While my back was turned, the group had been
escorted across the street. It was over. I had missed the test. The people in
line were waiting now to watch a taping of the show.
I immediately approached one
of the helpers and explained what had been said about leaving and coming back.
He didn’t have an answer. He really didn’t care. I was just one of hundreds,
even thousands, perhaps millions who foolishly think they have a shot at
getting on a game show and winning a million dollars. This was Friday afternoon.
There were no more tests to be given.
I walked away disgusted. I
was angry at myself for being so gullible, for entertaining thoughts of instant
wealth. How much is enough? I will
probably never see a million dollars. Yet, I am not one bit better or worse for
it.
I am alive. I am free. I have
a loving family and friends. I have a roof over my head and food on the table. And,
even after all this, I have it on good authority that there is a heaven with no
parking for U-Haul trucks.
What was I thinking?
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