A Jeopardy! audition guide

I reckon I’m not going to be on Jeopardy! In July of 2018, I drove to Cleveland — still the only night I’ve stayed apart from either of the boys other than hospital time since they were born — because I had made it to the in-person portion of auditions for the show, after which you are officially banned from taking the online test for 18 months for the simple fact that you’re in the system. It’s now more than 18 months later, and I haven’t been to Los Angeles or met Alex Trebek, so I think I didn’t make it.

But! I do have the experience. Maybe I go back someday, and maybe I don’t. Maybe you do. If so, I have a few things to tell you. Maybe you can make the show where I failed.

The experience

They send you a full questionnaire to fill out. Normal stuff, like name, family, job. But then they also ask for your top five “Alex interview” topics. Gotta be as interesting as possible here.

I don’t remember all the time specifics, but I do know that I was insanely early. Like, I beat the game show employees there, and I beat them by a long time. I think we were supposed to be there by 10:30? And I got there at 8. This wasn’t exactly overeagerness, in my defense. There was a crazy amount of construction in Cleveland, and I didn’t want to go somewhere and not be able to find my way back. I suck at sleep to begin with, and I doubly suck at sleep in hotels. So I woke up early, decided to find my way to the location, and then … you know, I was there.

Eventually, others arrived. All told, there were something like 35 people there. Many of them had been to several in-person auditions — I remember one who had gotten to that point five different times but had never made it further. In a group of 30-some like that, it’s not fair, but you can look around and immediately identify 5 or 6 who you just know aren’t going to make it on the show. I hate even saying that because it’s so shallow (and maybe I’m one of them!), but it’s true. There are a few others who you know just need to not fall on their face and they’ll be in good shape. But ultimately, it’s a mishmash of smart people milling around, being socially awkward near each other.

Okay, so they took attendance, complete with polaroids of each person, and then let us into the room. There was a bit of talk about what Jeopardy! is like, how it all works, what the experience of being on the show is like.

(Fun fact: You have to pay your way to California for taping — you probably guessed that part — but for years, you had to pay your way every time you had to go. For most people, this didn’t matter, because they tape five shows at a time and you were probably never going to have to go and then go back. For the ones who went on multi-show runs, it might mean two flights. But then poor Ken Jennings went on his incredible run. Obviously, you don’t get your winnings until well after you actually win, so Ken was stuck flying out to LA over and over and over, and racking up flyer miles and flight expenses like crazy. After that, they changed the rules — you have to pay your way out the first time, but if you win and have to come back, they’ll foot the bill from there. Ken Jennings, changing the world.)

Then there’s a test. Forty questions (maybe 50?) of all sorts of general topics. You just sit there writing answers down, full low-budget style, like it’s the SATs. Then the evaluators step out for a bit, and you can get some water, mingle, compare notes, commiserate over your wrong answers.

And then the sample game! They have a sample game board up of a few categories, three questions in each. They call up three people at a time, largely at random, and you play for a few minutes like it’s a real game. As soon as one category is finished, a new one pops in. So you aren’t playing to finish, and they aren’t even keeping score. This is a bit of practice with the process, a lot of practice hitting the buttons, and even more of them seeing if you can stand up and talk for a few seconds without falling down.

After a handful of questions, they stop, and do a bit of interview with each of the three people up there. There are some specific questions based on your questionnaire, and then one question everybody gets: “If you win, what are you going to do with the money?”

Then that group sits down, another three come up, and it all happens again. They do this until everybody has taken a turn, do one last little chat, and that’s it. I had six hours to drive back home and ruminate on my mistakes.

Advice

The biggest one I can possibly offer: Have a good answer for the money question. There were, like I said, 30-some of us there, and I’d say at least two-thirds, maybe more, said some variant of, “Take my significant other on a trip.” Even after 20 people had said it, there were people still saying it. Obviously, I don’t know what they do and do not need from that, but your main job at the audition, after “be smart,” is “be interesting.” The 20th person saying “I want to go to Paris!” isn’t going to stand out. Even if you know without a doubt that if you win James Holzhauser money, you and your sweetie are heading to Australia to swim with the sharks on the Great Barrier Reef, come up with something. You’re going to buy a house for the ninth person you walk past on the next Tuesday. You’re going to open a restaurant that specifically caters to identical twins (sorry, that already exists). You’re going to adopt 700 beetles. Something. Trips are boring. Don’t say trips.

Next, hope you get lucky on the categories, obviously. I was sitting there watching categories appear and disappear. Finally, “baseball stadiums” popped up, and I was … still sitting. I wanted that category. I needed that category. I … eventually got that category, as it turned out. I got pulled up a few minutes later with only one of the three baseball questions gone. I got to field those questions, and I nailed them. I also got a few others, I hit the button a lot, and all went pretty well.

And then the interview. Have some hook on your questionnaire. You have to. I was at the time a fantasy football editor, and you could just see the questioner flip through my paper and light up when she found an interesting job. That place was full of librarians and teachers and retired professors; my job stood out. If you don’t have an interesting job, have an interesting something.

Ultimately, though, be confident. The Dos Equis guy isn’t going to make it onto Jeopardy! if he stutters and stammers and mumbles. Your high school librarian can make it with enough confidence and charisma. Maybe your answers are bad, and maybe your answers are dull. But make your answers powerful.

On the written test … I mean, it’s just like the advice for the game. Have a broad base of knowledge. There were rap questions and sports questions and science questions and everything else. I don’t think there’s a cheat there beyond “be smart.”

So … be interesting, be confident, be lucky, be smart. I was some of each of those, but probably not enough of any of them. I did not make it on to Jeopardy!

And my answer to the money question was, “Take my wife on a honeymoon.” Ugh.