I opened the refrigerator in full view of my wife and daughters. After a cursory glance, I shut it and whirled to face them.
“A dairy product that should have been thrown out weeks ago, yet inexplicably remains.”
“What?” my wife asked
“Be more specific,” I replied.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “The correct question is, ‘What is the yogurt?’ Four answers remain in the ‘Food & Drink’ category.”
“Dad, didn’t we warn you about mowing the lawn in excessive heat?” my older daughter inquired. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Alex is retiring,” I said.
“See?” she said to my wife. “He’s delirious.”
“I’ve coveted his position since 1984,” I said.
They stared at me dumbfounded. I waited five seconds before activating a buzzer I produced from my pocket. “The correct question is, ‘Who is Alex Trebek?'”
“Wait,” my younger daughter said. “You sound like that guy on TV who talks really fast and can easily pronounce opera titles. You’re always yelling at him.”
“I’m not yelling at him. I’m answering questions,” I said. “That’s Alex Trebek, ‘Jeopardy!’ host. I read he may retire after 33 years. And, if he does, I want the job. You three are going to help me nail the audition.”
“I’m busy,” my wife said.
“You have to ring in,” I replied curtly. Just like Alex.
“I don’t have a buzzer,” she said.
“Just raise your hand, honey,” I said. She did.
“What is, ‘I’m busy?'” she said.
“C’mon,” I said. “Alex makes $10 million a year. For looking at cue cards and reading clues in categories like ‘Word Origins,’ ‘State Capitals’ and ‘Shakespeare.'”
“Dad, you don’t know anything about Shakespeare,” my eldest reminded me.
“I don’t need to,” I said. “The answers will be right in front of me. All I need to do is correctly pronounce the antagonist’s wife in ‘Othello.'”
They stared blankly at me again. I activated the pocket buzzer.
“Who is ‘Desdemona?'”
“Can we break for a commercial?” my wife asked.
We did. I put down the buzzer and calmly explained the reasons I wanted Trebek’s job: namely my love of trivia and my desire to, in an increasingly dumb-downed world, meet intelligent people. Face it, when watching “Jeopardy!” isn’t it a breath of fresh air to see three contestants who can correctly identify Abraham Lincoln as the Gettysburg Address author? Without first consulting Siri or Alexa?
“Plus, ‘Jeopardy!’ is in my family heritage,” I said. “Nana was a ‘Jeopardy!’ contestant back in 1969. When Art Fleming hosted.”
“Who is Art Fleming?” my eldest asked. “Dad, did I phrase that correctly?”
“Very funny,” I said. “C’mon, girls, help me get ready. Let’s play a few rounds. I’ve come up with some categories: ‘Clean that Room!,’ ‘Your Next Summer Job,’ ‘Car Privileges’ and ‘Starts with H.'” Pointing to my youngest, I said, “You select.”
“Uh, ‘Starts with H’ for $100.”
“It’s what you should be spending more time doing,” I said.
My oldest raised her hand. “What is ‘Having a good reason not to play this game?'”
“Incorrect,” I said.
My wife’s hand shot up. “What is ‘Homework?'”
“Correct,” I said. “Honey, you choose.”
“Car Privileges. $300.”
“It’s where the car will be during the Lollapalooza music festival.”
My wife again. “What is ‘In the garage?'”
“Correct again,” I said.
“I like this game,” she said.
“Dad, are you serious?” my oldest cried. “How I am supposed to get down there?”
“What is ‘Take the train?'” I responded.
Sensing frustration, I suggested we move straight to Final Jeopardy. “Contestants, you’ll have 30 seconds to write down your answers,” I said. “The category is, ‘Famous Fathers.’ The answer: ‘He is the most qualified, most charming and most likely person to replace ‘Jeopardy!’ host Alex Trebek.”
I hummed the “Jeopardy!” theme song while they wrote and looked at me annoyingly.
“Times up,” I said. Pointing at my youngest, I said, “Let’s see what you wrote.”
She turned over her card, revealing, “Duh, it’s you, Dad.”
“Incorrect,” I said. “Your answer must be in the form of a question.”
I rolled my eyes and dismissed her with a tilt of my head.
Just like Alex.
