Let’s NOT Make a Deal Or How to be the Worst Contestant Ever
By Felicia Aleman
This is a true account. Everything you will read happened to me. I finally made my lifelong dream of being on Let’s Make a Deal and not only did I not win, but my segment was cut from the episode. I could be sad, but I’m thinking I may have had something to do with it…
Some background: When you start the process for Let’s Make a Deal, everyone stresses one thing—ENERGY. “We want to be sure you bring your energy” “Make sure you keep your energy” “Let’s see some energy”. If you know me, I CAN be energetic, but I tend to be low-key. I am the one in the corner quietly observing. I took these “energy” messages to heart. A wallflower must be careful the energy does not poop out.
You also need to know that I have performed stand up comedy in the past. I am used to speaking in front of people, using a microphone and so on. I have met the lead singer to my favorite band. We politely hugged and kissed cheeks. We spoke for a few moments and I even washed my cheek afterwards. I was not starstruck at all.
Lastly, due to COVID-19, there were a limited number of contestants allowed and we were told that all of us would get to play a game. Getting called up to play was not a surprise at all. None of what I am about to tell you should have ever happened.
“I’m looking for someone to make a deal….FELICIA, are you ready to make a deal?”
AMIREADY?! Of course, I’m ready. I have been ready since I was a little kid and I watched Monty Hall handing out prizes to people in silly costumes while Grandma was in the kitchen. I have been waiting months of quarantine cancellations to finally get to meet Wayne Brady. I am sooooo ready.
After all these years I’m on my way to the contestant’s circle. What I should have done was triumphantly raise my fists over my head and pump them as I ran to the stage a la Rocky running up the museum stairs before he wins the big fight. Unfortunately, I jumped from my chair like the murder hornets just came into the room, and this is where it gets fuzzy…
Next thing I know, I am holding the side of my contestant pod, jumping. Maybe I was trying to show off my sweet Godzilla tail, maybe I looked like a bronco trying to lose a rider. In reality, I looked like an old woman in cat eyeglasses trying to twerk in a two-sizes too big Godzilla onesie. Looked as good as it sounds.
I cannot forget to mention my scream. A big “woohoo” would have been great, maybe a “yippee”. But I was going for energy. I screamed at a frequency usually reserved for dolphin communication. I screamed with the same volume I would use if I caught someone trying to eat a puppy. People from a nearby train wreck came by to be sure I was okay. I was also wearing a microphone. My sincerest apologies, hopes and prayers to the sound engineers.
It’s a bit fuzzy again, but I did not stop screaming until I was in the contestant circle and realized I was unleashing six feet away from Wayne Brady. Even when I realized I was screaming; I could not stop until I put my hand over my mouth. If not for COVID-19, I am pretty sure there would have been a line to slap my mouth shut for me.
My game was Jonathan Big Head. If you do not watch the show, the co-host appears as a psychic. You ask Jonathan Big Head the questions from a posted list that is supposed to help figure out what is behind the curtain. You then choose between an envelope and the curtain.
I kept reminding myself: ENERGY. However, I thought my entrance may have been a bit TOO energetic. A bit over the top. I proceeded to play my game with the energy of someone interviewing for a job they don’t want.
Wayne asks: “So are you going to take the curtain or the envelope?”.
“Curtain”
“Is there any particular reason?”
What I should have said: The clues kinda point to a car behind the curtain. I need a car. I mean I have a car, but it is full of mystery leaks, knobs and such only work with precise positioning and a prayer and when I turn on the blinker all the dash lights turn on so brightly I look like an x-ray driving. My car will get me where I need to go so long as it’s not on the freeway or past Oakdale. I REALLY need a car.
What I did say: I don’t know. I’m so nervous right now and I think I have to pee. I crossed my legs and squatted on the stage. You read that correctly, I did a corkscrew turn into a squat right after telling him I had to pee. I did not have to pee.
Wayne said he believed me with a look that made me think I would come up during his next salary negotiation. Curtain one opens…We were on the opposite side of the studio from curtain one and I couldn’t see anything but smoke. I thought there was a fire. I looked at the monitor and I had a stupid look on my face. A “Yeah, I think that did smell like chloroform” look on my face. I moved so I could see. It was stage smoke from the Zonk jalopy I had “won”.
What I should have done is thanked everyone and graciously left. I’m honestly not sure what I did, but I was back in my seat.
That’s it. That’s how I didn’t make a deal. I hope you’ve learned something. Ironically, even though my game was cut, I was in most of the show because I was seated behind and to the right of Wayne Brady. It was a (mostly) unforgettable time. I hope the footage never surfaces. I would do it again. You should try, too.
