I'm not sure why, but the Bar-One Man idea grabbed me. I think it's a brilliant idea, it's the whole SURVIVOR mythos, but it's local, it's unique and - well it asks one of those epic questions: What does it mean to be a man today? What is a man? Kudos to the creatives to coming with a concept that is not only going to be good for their product, and for their bottom line, but also asks us men to have personal standards and possibly even raise them.
While I was filling in the application online, it struck me that the qualities of a Bar One Man - I think - are simply that he's:
- honest but not a wimp
- humble but not conceited, his integrity and involvement in important things insure it's 'real' humility
- healthy in the sense that he's fit and strong, and probably good looking, without being cliched, or just 100% hunk. He eats chocolates so he's not a perfectionistic jerk.
In a word, he's human. And he has good manners. He's brought up to get involved in issues that matter, and he's got the charm to have a sense of humor about it. Of all his qualities I believe the most important, the most necessary, is the first one - his honesty. Because it's that honesty, that integrity, that reminds us we have to get involved too, and the real world isn't for sissies.
Okay enough of the touchy feely brand stuff. Today I went to the auditions. Apparently over 6000 men entered, just over 1000 were selected, and today was about whittling that list down to a mere 100. From there to 50, and ultimately 14. Shooting stars in a few weeks.
I was interviewing someone really interesting at a coffee shop in Grant Avenue, about her experience living in Cambodia. I got away a little late so called in to see whether 25 minutes late was okay. It was. I arrived at Ogilvy's HQ in Sloane street [incidentally I once pitched an ad idea to Ogilvy and Mather in Cape Town] and was directly to ZOOM Advertising. Was weird to see male peacocks fluffing out their tail feathers on the roof before I went in.
Inside an attractive brunette, probably in her lower twenties, with short shorts, brown legs and no shoes, handing out blue eyes and sunny white smiles, along with disclaimers to sign. On one white sheet we were required to write our names and numbers and hold these above our bare chests while the camera rolled.
There were a few contenders already lining up. At this point I started to really consider what I was doing, and made I note to myself to pull my stomach in, and to work on the tan. I remembered that the night before I'd had two castle draughts with friends, a steak, and polished that lot off with a quarter of a tub of ice cream. I've been strict with my diet but last night I let my hair down.
What can I say about the other guys? One arrived in a straw cowboy hat. Another looked like a young Eugene Terreblanche, very boertjie. Another kept telling us how nervous he was. I didn't feel particularly threatened by any of these boys. I suppose because whether you're good looking or not, you might not be able to swim, or run, and let's be honest, it's the prettiest boys that often lack the most substance. Not always, but often. The producer, a young dude wearing a shining maroon colored cap, said those who were selected would each get personal trainers. Loved that idea!
I wasn't dressed to be pretty. Jeans, red epic-Adidas t-shirt, matching red epic-Adidas cap, on backwards. Plenty of stubble, though I'd shaved the worst around my throat.
When it was my time in the spotlight I immediately took my shirt off, stepped into a hot, sound proof room, and faced a table with a young blonde and brunette, and three dudes manning lights, camera and notepad.
They asked me to introduce myself, say where I was from and where I was about.
"Born and bred in Bloemfontein, blah blah blah..."
But I also told them some of what I mentioned in the first paragraph. I said I could probably add an interesting dimension to the show, not in the sense that I think I'm THE Bar One Man, I think I'm a contender, but more in the sense that I'm probably a better athlete and swimmer than people would reckon judging from my appearance. I also said I'd be thrilled if I got a place as it would be a great reason to get back into shape. I blamed my lack of form on the calf injury I sustained a few weeks ago running the last kilometre of a 10 kilometre race.
There were a few sounds of encouragement while I was talking, nods and smiles. One dude said I'd answered all his questions, and then asked me which quality I had which suited the show. I said honesty. I said the world has some tough issues facing us and we need to get involved and to truly make a difference we need to start being honest with each other, and ourselves. If the Bar-One Man Reality Show does that, it has my vote.
When I left the security guard said to me, "They must pick you." Stay tuned.
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