CETconnect.org

Note: UC student Ryan McLendon is CET’s intern in the Content Division. We introduced him to Auction. Heh-heh-heh.

Being involved in Action Auction is very similar to walking inside Salvador Dali’s head: surreal. When I came to the CET studio early Friday night, my expectations were quite schizophrenic; I hadn’t the slightest idea what tasks I would perform, how the Auction itself was performed or if I would be forced to wear a game show host outfit to do a Bob Barker impersonation while introducing items.

As soon as I walked through the double glass doors, my first and omnipresent thought was “pizza.” The smell of LaRosa’s had permeated every element, every nook and niche of the building, causing me to internally squeal with delight. My nervousness and apprehensions were immediately squelched as a result of marinara in the air. Coincidentally, I had eaten the equivalent of prison food the entire day, a bread on bread sandwich coupled with a hefty bottle of tepid water located in the infernal abyss and perennial vacuum of matter that is my car.

I located Patsy Carruthers immediately, thrilled to see someone familiar at the starting gate, and together we located Jack Dominic on the soundstage, where coincidentally Mayor Mark Mallory had just finished introducing a series of items, many of them being autographed baseballs from the infamous Opening Day Pitch Debacle. My eyes had a lot to absorb in that moment; I was seeing a fresh scene that was familiar, but all together new. I had seen many an Auction on television, the close-ups of the items, the rows of patrons fused to telephones, the glee and elation that was omnipresent in the atmosphere of the room, but actually being  in the studio for a live program was like a microcosm for the center of the universe. The scenery I was viewing first hand was the same scene being broadcast into thousands of homes instantaneously. That’s a heavy concept for a hungry intern. I went into a dual astonishment/ food coma, unaware that I planted myself in the center of the floor, peevishly staring at everyone and everything. Jack had to give me a little nudge to ground me back into sanity.

I eventually was assigned to replace and rotate the auction items after they had been sold. The announcer would introduce the item while the cameramen would zoom in to extol the richness and grandeur of what was being offered. While I watched the action feverishly on the TV behind the stage, a grim realization overtook me: I had no idea what I was doing. I had been introduced to some very nice women who, while they did try to teach me their system for rotating and displaying items, they were doing so while trying to keep up with speed of the auctioneers. Many explanations of the job were punctuated with large furniture items being moved or the gussying up of display shelves. I’m really never one to ask a question more than twice in fear of seeming dense, so while I had a very fundamental idea of how this arrangement would work, I still wouldn’t have been able to thoroughly explain it to anyone, or myself, ever.

Never one to be put out by misunderstandings, I continued to follow the ladies around like a lost spaniel in order to get the rhythm of the job. Eventually, after many moved shelves, countless items and an infinite number of pizza slices, I was able deduce how the system worked, how each table behind the studio corresponded with one inside the studio, and how their order and item placement was arranged to maximize both the products and the efficiency required for a successful auction. At first, I thought it was confusing, but it made much more sense when I stepped back and incorporated all the action and all the jobs that were happening simultaneously. Every job had a complimentary job, and each task couldn’t be performed well without the compliment. I began to marvel at how precise and well-conceived the Auction was, how acutely timed and pragmatic all its elements were.

When I left, I felt more wizened than I had when I arrived. I had never been involved with live television, ever, in my life, and had remained pleasantly aloof of all the nuances and the particulars of how television comes alive. I’m only used to the final product, which doesn’t seem as final when it is what you experience first. By being involved with auction, I am now privy the organic nature of television, how it is it born in the studio, and then leaves the nest as its own organism.
–Ryan