Where’s Wendy?

The 96th edition of the Academy Awards came and went last Sunday without much fanfare. Mercifully, Monday’s reviews were more about who won, instead of tabloid headlines like wardrobe malfunctions or acceptance speeches gone wrong. I only watched the opening monologue, and not because I cared about what Jimmy Kimmel had to say. Rather, I wanted to see if I could spot a seat filler.

Back in my days as a mid-level manager in corporate America, dozens of resumes came across my desk for prospective employees.  Their sections on “previous experience”  sometimes caught my eye, if only for the really strange stuff people do with their time. Innovation Sherpa. Hacker. Direct Marketing Demigod. Happiness Hero.  I wouldn’t sign up for any of those “jobs” but hey, at least they come with a paycheck.  The only compensation a seat filler gets is a free ticket to the show.

Seat fillers are out there… somewhere…

If the title isn’t self-evident, a seat filler is someone who attends a televised event (like the Academy Awards) and stands in the shadows of the outside aisles until a “real” attendee gets up to get a drink, use the restroom, socialize, or whatever.  The seat filler then dashes over to occupy the seat until the person returns, so the panning cameras give the television audience the impression the event is always filled to capacity.

I could spend several hundred words talking about the myriad ways live TV manipulates a viewer’s perception (flashing “APPLAUSE!” signs come to mind) but seat fillers may be the most absurd of all.  Thousands upon thousands of people apply for these opportunities, with only a handful chosen for a given event.  As if remaining nameless among the Hollywood elite isn’t humbling enough, seat filling is last-minute employment with all expenses paid by… you.

Imagine opening the email.  Congratulations!  You’re going to the Grammy Awards!  There’s the good news.  The bad news is, now you have to book an expensive flight and hotel, buy or rent a dress-code-worthy tux or formal gown, and plead for last-minute approval from your employer for a few days off.  Assuming you do make it to the Grammy Awards, you’re subject to a strict set of behaviors.  Surrender your ID and smartphone.  DON’T walk on the red carpet.  DON’T talk to celebrities (unless they talk to you first).  And plan on being on your feet for hours, in a covert location where you can’t even see the show, waiting for the command from the Manager of Seat Fillers to “fill that seat!”

As one filler described the experience, maybe there really is a breathless kind of rush when you plop down next to someone like Taylor Swift or Beyoncé.  But let’s get real here; celebrities see a seat filler coming from a mile away.  How many of them are going to engage with a smile, let alone a word of acknowledgement?  Even if you did manage to exchange a sentence or two, you’re going to ask yourself, “Why did I say that to Taylor?” for the rest of your days.

HURRY!  She’s not in her seat!

Without your phone, you won’t be able to capture your seat-filling fifteen minutes of fame.  You’ll be lucky if you nab a copy of the event program (which can be purchased online anyway).  Seat filling is a the very definition of “anonymous”, and it’ll be hard to convince your friends and family you were even there.  Unless the TV camera points your way at just the right time, of course.

As for my careful study of the Academy Awards audience on Sunday night, it seemed like a fun game at the time.  Pause the picture when the camera pans the people, then walk up to the screen and play a sort of “Where’s Waldo?” (or Wendy) to spot the seat fillers.  But I quickly realized the error of my ways.  I can’t even recognize the actors.  They’re either the too-old versions of the ones I remember (sorry people, the Botox doesn’t help) or they’re the too-young versions of actors I’ve never seen in anything at all.

Suffice it to say, I will never be a seat filler.  If I ever go to an awards show it’s because I’m a “real” attendee who deserves to be there (in other words, another lifetime).  In this life, I’ll consider more appealing employment prospects for my retirement. Beverage Dissemination Officer. Golf Ball Diver. Professional Sleeper.  Hey, at least those pay.

Some content sourced from the Business Insider article, “I was a seat filler at last year’s Grammys…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Author: Dave

Four hundred posts would suggest I have something to say… This blog was born from a desire to elevate the English language, highlighting eloquent words from days gone by. The stories I share are snippets of life itself, and each comes with a bonus: a dusted-off word I hope you’ll go on to use more often. Read “Deutschland-ish Improvements” to learn about my backyard European wish list. Try “Slush Fun” for the throwback years of the 7-Eleven convenience store. Or drink in "Iced Coffee" to discover the plight of the rural French cafe. On the lighter side, read "Late Night Racquet Sports" for my adventures with our latest moth invasion. As Walt Whitman said, “That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.” Here then, my verse. Welcome to Life In A Word.

29 thoughts on “Where’s Wendy?”

  1. I would hate to be a seat filler. Uncomfortable clothes, bright lights in my eyes, and people ignoring me because I’m no one important. At least at home I can attend award ceremonies in my jammies, with ambient lighting, and no way for anyone to hurt my feelings. 

    Liked by 1 person

    1. When my research revealed a seat filler doesn’t even get to watch the show (outside of the brief time they’re “filling”), I wondered “what’s the attraction; just to say you were at the event or near the celebrities?” Sorry, my friends and family would think I was off my rocker.

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  2. I never understood the need for seat fillers. Now I do a lot of woodworking where I fill nail holes or screw holes, but filling an entire seat — that’s a lot of wood dough that you’d have to sand down later.

    back to seat filling, you’d think that instead of trying to do pan shots of the audience, that they could just do one pan shot at the beginning of show when the seats are full and just use that the rest of the night. Well, that would be my solution anyway.

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    1. The cameras seem to go out into the audiences more these days, as Kimmel did for “on the spot” interviews during his monologue. God forbid those shots include an empty seat in the vicinity of the microphone, right? I don’t understand the fuss. I’d think someone simply couldn’t make it to the show.

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  3. I haven’t been a seat filler, but I felt like one at the Rockefeller tree lighting. At least half of the show was pre-taped so the rest of the time we were just standing around in the cold. It was worth it once to see the tree so close, but I haven’t tried to get tickets since.

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    1. I forgot about that post – you are a bona fide seat filler! Your description pretty much sums up the role. All in the interest of looking perfect for the television audience, at the expense of those in front of the camera. At least you didn’t have any travel expenses 🙂

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    1. No real benefits to seat-filling that I can see, Monica. Some people want to be able to say “they were there” and/or “they were close to Celebrity X”, but I couldn’t care less about those things. Can’t see a way into the after parties either. I’m guessing those are by invitation only.

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  6. Wow I would never want to be a seat filler now that I know what it is. But professional sleeper sounds interesting as long as the bed is comfy and there’s no lab accidents? Sorry I read Goof Ball Driver, thought that might be fun too 🙂

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  8. I had never heard of a seat filler before reading this post Dave. I, like you, can’t imagine spending a small fortune, just for the sake of keeping someone’s seat warm for appearance sake and glimpsing a celebrity or two. You’re not hobnobbing with the “elite” as you wouldn’t dare do so after the admonition “DON’T talk to celebrities (unless they talk to you first).” Just incredible. I’ve mentioned to you before that I’ve not been to the movie theatre in awhile and don’t see much TV, but I finally cancelled my “People” magazine subscription a few years ago when I didn’t know any of the so-called “famous folks” in one of the issues, so I guess I’m a dinosaur now.
    [I kept hearing about the Colorado snowstorm today, so once again you thanked your lucky stars you made the move to South Carolina.]

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    1. People mag is borderline tabloid fodder. Some of their cover stories fascinate me, especially the ones where they elevate a celebrity’s everyday achievements (ex. weight loss, new look, overcoming addictions). Many of those who subscribe to People would be the same ones who’d want to be seat fillers. I’ve never understood the adoration of celebrities. As my wife likes to say, “they put on their pants the same way we do” 🙂

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      1. In later years I only kept the subscription for the human interest stories – those were okay, plus they used to have book, movie and TV reviews of new books/shows, then I didn’t know the authors/actors. I kind of gave up on it. People magazine started publishing in the mid-70s. When I was in college, I had to take a media class and our assignment for the entire class was we had to pick a weekly magazine and analyze it from cover to cover throughout that class duration – that was an assignment that took the entire trimester to do. In those days (around 1977 or 1978) People was worthwhile and not tabloid fodder. Your wife is 100% correct – they are just like us, just have a good voice or good genes. The beautiful women and handsome men of yesteryear did not only have good *natural* looks, they were better singers and actors (in my opinion anyway).

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  11. There are people who will do something once just for the experience – this strikes me as the type of thing that would check that box. I’ve never even wanted to sit in the audience of a tv show filming. I don’t even watch tv!

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    1. I have to commend the “do something once just for the experience” types because they’re more adventurous than I am. I don’t see the value in something like seat-filling, but perhaps a one-time try has a few upsides and/or makes memories.

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  12. Now that I know no realistic way exists to prove that someone was a seat filler, I am going to start telling people that I was one as soon as I come up with an entertaining anecdote.

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  13. I will join all the others who had never heard of such a thing as a seat filler. One twist would be if a guy happened to look like, oh say, Matt Damon – perhaps that person could get some interesting conversations going. 🙂

    Otherwise, my attitude about those shows is just like yours, so someone would have to pay A LOT. Otherwise, I will just fill one of the many seats available to me for free.

    And woo-hoo, look at me get here in time to comment!!

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    1. Ah, not just seat fillers but doppelgangers! I like it. Maybe the celebs would pay big money to not have to be there at all. On that note, “Dave” is one of my favorite movies (and not just because of the title).

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