I guess I’m stuck with him – but I don’t think this office is big enough for both of us.
3
Considering casting days are such a big part of my job, you’d think I’d have them down to a fine art by now.
The problem is that so many people turn up, all with their own idea about what they think I want to see, what they need to do to secure their spot on TV. What I see is rarely what I want though. People try too hard to be entertaining when the real beauty of reality TV is finding the right people, not the loudest or the most outgoing, and putting them together. Figuring out that mix is what makes me so good at my job – and it’s not at all like what Lockie does, which is purposefully putting people together who will clash and then putting them in situations that will cause trouble and then whipping them up, telling them what to say and do, and then leaving them to it. Yes, everyone signs disclaimers saying they’re up for anything, and yes, ‘that’s entertainment’, but I really can’t get on board with pulling the pin on an emotional grenade and just lobbing it in amongst them. Call me sad, but I do like to think we can help some of these people find love as well as fame.
Casting days are where hope goes to die. I always count my blessings that I get to be on this side of the table, choosing people, rather than on the other side of the room, desperately hoping someone picks me. I love working in reality TV, even with all its faults, but I could never, ever take part in one of these shows. The thought of surrendering control and putting myself out there for all to see, handing over every piece of me for people to dissect online – no, no, no. I couldn’t hack it. I’d sit on social media, searching my own name, not because I love myself but because sometimes (like most people) I don’t, and you can always trust the online public to let you know what they think is wrong with you.
You would think it was a glamorous process but it’s sort of bleak. We’re in a rented conference suite above a budget chain hotel, the kind of venue that usually hosts Alan Partridge-type seminars and careers events that usually just trick you into signing up for an MLM sales opportunity that almost always ends up costing people money, not earning them it. The carpet has that suspicious sticky feel when you walk across it, the kind that makes you wonder how it got that bad, but you also really hope to never find out the answer. The walls are a shade of yellowy cream (I suspect they didn’t use to be) and the lighting is so harsh, you better hope you’ve primed, contoured and fixed yourself within an inch of your life. Lights like these don’t just showcase little imperfections, they actually manifest ones you don’t really have.
And yet… this where stars are born. Sort of.
‘Well, this is glamorous, isn’t it?’ Lockie mutters, as he takes his seat at our pop-up table. We’re like Simon Cowell and Sharon Osbourne – just for horny influencers instead of wannabe singers.
Lockie looks so laid-back, like he’s a guest here, and this is a luxury resort.
‘It is what it is,’ I reply, skimming applications on my iPad. ‘It gets the job done.’
‘Ah, yes,’ he says, smirking. ‘Nothing says TV and “true love” like a flickering light and the faint smell of damp.’
I ignore him and glance at the line of hopefuls stretching out outside the room. I can see a bunch of them, through the windows, and I can already tell it’s the same old, same old.
Lots of fake tan, white teeth, surgically plumped-up lips – and I’m not even just talking about the girls. Even the men feel the pressure to be perfect.
Tara mans the door with her iPad, calling people in like she’s working the door at a very exclusive nightclub.
Lockie and I are waiting at our table, sitting in silence now, for our first hopeful. And then the hundreds if not thousands that will follow.
The first contestant shuffles in.
‘Yo, I’m Rick,’ he says proudly, flexing in a T-shirt so tight I think I just saw a few of the stitches pop. ‘I’m a PT and fitness influencer.’
‘What’s your follower count?’ Lockie asks before I can even open my mouth.
‘Eighty-five K on Insta. Hundred and forty K on TikTok,’ Rick tells us casually.
Lockie’s eyes light up.
‘Decent numbers,’ Lockie tells him. ‘Congrats.’
I force a smile.
‘And what are you hoping to get out of the show, Rick?’ I ask.
‘Exposure,’ he says immediately. ‘Brand deals, a few more followers. Oh, and maybe a girlfriend.’
He tags that on at the end, like he thinks it’s what I want to hear, but even if it was, he would need to actually mean it.
‘Maybe?’ I repeat.
He shrugs.
‘Depends who’s fit – have you signed up any worldies yet?’
‘Not yet, but the day is young,’ Lockie replies with a laugh.
The rest of the interview doesn’t produce anything eye-opening. He’s just another typical contestant, there will be a thousand more like him passing through here today – and, I know, if it ain’t broke… butWelcome to Singledomis broken. Doing the same old, same old and hoping for a better result isn’t going to help.
