By Robert P. Poindexter
As many of you are (based on the ratings), I find myself especially attracted to these various talent contest type programs. I wish I could say it is only because I truly care about someone whom I’ve never met making it into the “Big Time.” I’m afraid my feelings are more sordid than this, as someone I’ve never met before making it big typically has little or no impact on my day to day.
No, I only watch these shows to satisfy my own morbid curiosity, the same curiosity that causes people to slow down for a better look at a crash site along the highway or to gather around an impromptu fistfight.
I know that what I may see could be disturbing, but I look anyway.
Thanks to these types of shows, I’ve had the displeasure of watching a guy in a bathrobe dance in front of millions of people while peeling off a dozen or so pairs of underwear, only to end his act by flashing the audience.
I’ve also witnessed a pair of girlfriends who stuffed themselves into costumes three sizes too small in order to perform a dance routine that no human eye should have ever had to witness. Luckily, the routine was only 90 seconds long, and it would have taken me two minutes to retrieve a steak knife from the kitchen drawer in order to gouge out the organs being offended.
You can add to this list the juggler who couldn’t juggle, the songbird who couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, and the magician who only received applause when the judges made him disappear.
And on and on it goes. One act after another by people with so little talent in their chosen category one has to wonder what possessed them to attempt this mind-boggling show of self deprecation to start with: perhaps a good-intentioned spouse said a few encouraging words, never realizing where it might lead. Maybe a friend gave them a high-five and a fist bump as they left the karaoke microphone and the slightly inebriated crowd made them feel like it was time to take their act on the road.
Maybe some of them just wanted to get on TV ever since the neighborhood action committee where they live began protesting the annual “Fire Dance” they insisted on performing in the front yard.
Whatever caused them to show up, I for one am happy they did. Because without these colorful characters, I’d probably be watching the political debates, which are just as humorous, but tend to be much more consequential, sadly enough.
Talent is as unique as a person’s DNA. I know a guy who belches the Star-Spangled Banner, which is great for a backyard BBQ, but probably not something that would get him a record contract. I know people who have great joke-telling ability, but the odds of them becoming the next Robin Williams are pretty slim.
Are you truly a talented professional? Does your resume do enough to spell out those talents in a clear and concise manner?
If the resume you’re using has you looking more like a sideshow then the main-attraction, you may want to consider the writing services available to you by someone who is skilled in making certain you have a real shot at the “Big Time.”