It was easy to distinguish the Martha people from the Trump people at yesterday's dual casting call for Donald Trump's "The Apprentice" and its new spinoff, "The Apprentice: Martha Stewart," mostly because the Martha people were wearing a lot of pink.
Maybe they just preferred pink, or maybe it was because Valentine's Day is just around the corner and Martha people are nothing if not attentive to upcoming holidays.
Neither wind nor cold nor long lines deterred Donald Trump/Martha Stewart devotees yesterday in Alexandria.
(Photos Jahi Chikwendiu -- The Washington Post)
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The Martha people wanted to impress the folks casting the show, so they brought chocolate and crustless heart-shaped sandwiches wrapped in red plastic wrap. One woman brought her handmade greeting cards, and another brought a hatbox filled with pink tissue paper and glittery hearts, and yet another gave the casting producer, Scott Salyers, her yearbook, for no apparent reason. They printed their applications on pink paper, filled them out with multicolored ink and decorated them with ribbons.
At one point during the auditions, which took place at the Mercedes-Benz of Alexandria showroom, one table of applicants erupted in applause as a woman showed off the long white cake she'd made, with her résumé neatly written in what looked like chocolate. One could only imagine the number of practice cakes she'd gone through.
Katherine Broadway, a 24-year-old banquet manager from Greensboro, N.C., showed Salyers a collage she had made especially for the day.
"Me as a child cooking," she said, pointing to one photograph. She pointed to another photo of her boyfriend's bed. "I made him a tiki torch headboard out of Home Depot products."
From the other side of the table, Lori Trawinski, one of the few Martha applicants without an interest in crafts, looked at the collage and observed, dryly, "I made a doily once in Girl Scouts."
For the most part, the Martha people provided quite a contrast with the Trump people, who were mostly men, and who wore suits instead of sprightly scarves, and who at times seemed eager to wrestle each other, if that's what it took to prove they were ready for world domination. The Trump people, needless to say, did not bring chocolate.
Applicants for both shows started lining up around 2 a.m. Friday, and by noon there were more than 600. There were perhaps slightly more people there to try out for The Donald's show than for Martha's. Applicants were separated based on the show they wanted to be on, and then whisked past a gray Maybach, which happens to be one of Trump's cars (starting price: $350,000). They were seated in groups of 10 at one of three tables, where Salyers asked them to discuss an issue, like euthanasia or the legalization of prostitution, while he watched for flashes of personality.
The Martha people waited politely for their turn to speak. The Trump people talked loudly and on top of each other. The Marthas sought some compromise and inclusion while the Trumps argued shrilly about America's Iraq policy and stated their strengths in robotic fashion.
"I have a proven track record."
"I will not take no for an answer."
"I am a goal-oriented person."
(To be fair, there were some exceptions to the stereotypes on both sides. A goateed publisher in a black-and-white suit seemed out of place with the Martha bunch till he whipped out a pamphlet of Martha Stewart recipes from 1986 that he'd been keeping in his pocket for good luck. "I can make a soup tureen out of a pumpkin!" he said.)
Later in the day, Trawinski, a financial consultant with a PhD in finance and economics, pointed out something that not all the Martha applicants seemed to realize. Trump and Martha are more alike than different. Martha Stewart is primarily a savvy marketer and money-maker. The pastries and the doilies are just the means to an end. What impressed Trawinski and made her want to try out for Martha's show "was her ability to build this business empire."
No one in either camp seemed to be under the impression that life as an apprentice would be easy. Stewart's reputation as a tough boss precedes her.
"I heard she's a real [bleep]," said the nice young lady who made the tiki torch headboard.
"I know she's a perfectionist, but I am, too," said Kathy Ward of Ellicott City, who runs her own interior design business. Ward called herself a "mini Martha Stewart" and said she had recently put out a book called "Fabulous No-Sew Window Treatments," as well as a one-episode show for local cable called "Simply Creative Sponge Brush Painting."
Toward noon, a young woman wearing a pink necklace and carrying a fuzzy pink hat came into the dealership and summoned one of the people in charge. She had finished with the Martha tryout and wanted to leave, but someone had blocked her car in. Should she have it towed?
Audrey Mulholland, the dealership's director of marketing, suggested that might be the best thing to do.
"I feel so mean!" the young woman wailed.
What would Martha do? We were tempted to think she'd have the car towed, without a moment's regret. The young woman didn't agree.
"Martha would valet," she said.
