From Doubt to Dollars: How Obsession (and a Highlighter) Got Me on Millionaire

This article is a summarized (with AI assistance) excerpt from my soon-to-be-released book, "Fry Your Chickens."

In August 1999, I turned on the TV in a Stamford, Connecticut Marriott hotel room and discovered Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? For a trivia buff like me, this wasn’t just a new game show—it was an invitation.

"I could do this," I thought.

Unlike Jeopardy!, where you need to know about 18th-century diseases or famous mime quotes (and remember to phrase answers as questions), this was multiple choice. The show ended with a prompt: "Want to be a contestant? Call this number."

So I called. And then I called again. And again. I could see myself in that hot seat, playing the game and possibly walking away with life-changing money.

I was obsessed.

The Definition of Obsession

When I ask people what "obsession" means, I get answers like:

• Intense dedication

• Fixation

• Restraining order

• 80s song

For me, obsession means this: Wanting something so much that you’ll fry any chickens that stand in your way—legally.

My obsession? Getting on Millionaire.

Each night, 200,000 people called in. Ten got selected. That’s a 1-in-20,000 shot. Doubtin' Dave—my internal voice of self-doubt—loved those odds.

"You’re more likely to find Bigfoot on a unicorn in your backyard!" he'd whisper.

But I kept dialing. Then they switched to in-person auditions.

Audition One: Chicago

I flew to Chicago. Took the multiple-choice test. Passed. Filled out a personality questionnaire. Interviewed with a producer. Flew home.

Waited.

No card.

Audition Two: Indianapolis

Same process. Same rejection.

Audition Three: Cleveland

The night before the Cleveland audition, I slumped on the couch and said to my wife, Beth, "This is ridiculous. It's a long drive, the hotel will be awful, and I’ll barely get any sleep before standing in line at dawn. I’m not going."

Beth looked at me, smiled and said, "This is your dream. Go for it!"

She knew exactly what was going on.

It wasn’t me talking—it was Doubtin’ Dave. And she wasn’t about to let him win.

So I went. I brought highlighters, red and blue pens—anything to make my form stand out. I included a story from my son Kenny, who once asked, "How hot do they make that hot seat?"

A week later, Kenny called me at work: "Daddy, you got a card! You're in the contestant pool!" I put him on speaker phone and said, "Could you repeat that?" The whole office went crazy!

The Power of Obsession

Between auditions, I had a realization: If I keep doing what I’m doing, I’ll keep not getting what I’m not getting.

So I changed my approach:

• Stopped playing it safe.

• Started researching successful contestants.

• Started standing out on paper and in person.

And it worked. Four months later, I sat in the hot seat across from Meredith Vieira.

When I told her Kenny's hot seat story, she asked: "How are your buns doing now?"

There have been thousands of contestants. But not many who can say Meredith Vieira asked about their buns.

Obsession Pays (And Sometimes, It Pays $32,000)

I didn’t win a million dollars. But I walked away with $32,000. That’s a lot of Taco Bell burritos.

And a reminder: The math only matters if you let it stop you. When you take action, you change the odds.

So What?

What’s the dream that keeps tapping you on the shoulder? The one you think about when Doubtin' Dave is whispering in your ear?

Name your dream. Take the first step. Fry that chicken.

Because obsession—the healthy, focused kind—can take you places talent alone never will.

#ObsessionPays #MillionaireStory #FryYourChickens #ChaseYourDreams #DoubtinDave #KeepGoing