Backstage at The Price Is Right: Memoirs of A Barker Beauty Read Online Free Page A

the show. She had been working on TPIR for about two years. She had also, in her own right, helped to break down the color barrier at the production level. Debbie’s family hailed from Belize and was very proud of her for holding this prestigious position at CBS.
    In the Green Room, Debbie was privy to certain conversations regarding the contestants that only a few others on the production staff knew about. After Debbie and I became better acquainted, she advised me to be cautious of whom to trust. She also shared with me that some of the producers and our director frequently made disparaging racial comments about certain minorities in her presence and copiously tossed around the N-word.
    She said, “A few times, when the N-word was used, they caught themselves and looked up at me and said, ‘Oops! Sorry’ and continued laughing. You’d be surprised what people say after someone has left the room or if they think no one is paying attention.”
    “Now that’s so wrong, tactless, and downright disrespectful to use that kind of language, especially when you’re in their presence,” I said.
    Debbie never specified who the culprit was, and I think, at the time, I was better off not knowing, as I would have had a totally different perception of the person whom I had looked up to and respected. I rarely perceive non-black people as racist just because they use the word “nigger,” but I do recognize them as thoughtless, ignorant, arrogant, and sometimes, pompous assholes. I’m certain that if they were to dig deep enough, they too would discover some Negro blood running through their veins.
    Some may have thought that I was just the token colored girl, put on the show to satisfy the NAACP so they wouldn’t boycott the show, and they had no choice but to accept me into the fraternal order of TPIR . Perhaps it was just timing, as well as a sign of the times. I never repeated to anyone what Debbie had shared with me, nor did she and I ever talk about it again — but I did stay on high alert.
    The Price Is Right was a fast-paced show. Every show was different and always exciting. Not only was it fun being an integral part of the show, but it was also exciting to watch the TV monitors while the show was being taped, either in the Green Room or in my dressing room between changes. However, there is nothing worse than looking at the TV monitor during the taping and realizing that there is no model on the set to demonstrate the merchandise, and it turns out that it’s your showcase. Gulp! My heart sank and I felt sick to my stomach, knowing the inevitable was comi ng: the dreaded meeting in Barker’s room.
    Generally, it was a pleasure to be invited into Barker’s dressing room for one reason or another. Usually, it was to celebrate someone’s birthday or for a special occasion, when we’d have a cake-cutting or champagne-bottle-popping event. Typically, celebrations took place between tapings or after the last show. But to be summoned to Barker’s dressing roo m when there was no cake or champagne meant bad news .
    My presence in Barker’s room was requested twice in one month for failing to appear at my post when the doors opened to showcase a prize. Paul Alter and the associate director, Bart Eskander were waiting with Barker in his dressing room both times to reprimand me for my oversights. I could feel the sweat beginning to pour from my brow before I entered the room. I tried desperately to think of an excuse for why I had failed to show up when the doors opened: “I was in my dressing room and misjudged the time it took to make a wardrobe change, and I failed to make it on stage on time,” or “I got caught up on a very important phone call about one of my kids in my dressing room, and I lost track of time.” In reality , I was either watching the taping of The Young and the Restless across the hall on the TV monitor feed in my dressing room or I got distracted and caught up in the Green Room chitchat. I was