As early as I can remember, I wanted to be a game show host. When I was a kid, there wasn't a cooler guy on the planet than Bob Barker. Every day after school I had a hot date with my favorite show, Truth or Consequences. I was mesmerized by how effortlessly Bob wooed the contestants and the audience. "Smooth as a baby's butt," as grandma Miller used to say.
Obsessing over the great game shows of the '60s and '70s became my passion. Watching those witty hosts do their thing must have had a big impact on me. On Christmas morning 1971 (much to my mom's dismay), I tried to exchange all my presents for whatever was behind Door No. 3. My dad asked me if I'd rather have him give me something to cry about. I opted to stick with my original deal of Weebles and Klackers. Smart move.
As ridiculous as it sounds, a game show host was the first occupation I ever thought — "Hey, I could do that." It looked glamorous, fun and I knew it wouldn't have a math prerequisite in college. Unable to find a college major in Game Show Hosting at Western Illinois University, I learned that it wasn't going to be as easy as I thought.
These memories were recently jarred out of me when a friend of mine told me he was going to leave his cushy corporate gig and guaranteed check to become a… (wait for it)… financial advisor. "I know I could do it!" he told me confidently. Not wanting to rain on his parade, I stalled and told him I'd get back to him right after this very important commercial message.
This wasn't the first time I had heard that proclamation. In fact, one of my buddies and I uttered those very words after an intense happy hour at Al's Midway Tap in the fall of 1982. It wasn't so much we thought we could do it. It was more like, "If that idiot can do it, so can I." The idiots we were referring to happened to be my brother and another one of our best friends.
