The pay forMarry Me, Julietcontestants is not high, it read.An anonymous contestant reported that the Juliets get paid in the range of $100 a day.
A hundred dollars a day? One hundredwholedollars a day?
That was seven hundred dollars a week. Had I ever made seven hundred dollars in a single week before? Ever?
I should have thought about it. Iwouldhave thought about it, had Murray called at any other time but this.
But with one hundred dollars a day on the table? No job? A pandemic destroying basically any chances I had of finding another one? Rent? Bills? Food? Whatever the fuck else was in that bottom layer of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs?
I couldn’t think about it. Like, I don’t think I was actually physically capable of giving it a second thought.
‘Sorry about that, Murray,’ I said, trying to keep my voice breezy and not like I was about to burst into tears with gratitude. ‘Yes. Please. I would love to be one of the Juliets.’
‘This is not an ordinary season ofMarry Me, Juliet,’ Murray lectured us when we were all gathered a couple of weeks later in the lockdown hotel. ‘You might have noticed that there are not as many contestants as there would normally be. Only fifteen women will be competing for our Romeo this season, instead of the usual twenty.’
I hadn’t noticed, probably because we were so spread out. They had us in a giant hotel conference room in socially distanced seats, so we took up a lot of space.
What I did notice, though, was that there was a much higher ratio of women of colour in the room than I’d been expecting, givenMarry Me, Juliet’s terrible diversity track record. There were still a whole lot of blondes (of the white women, I was one of only two brunettes), but the ratio of white women to women of colour was about fifty-fifty, as opposed to the more usual nineteen to one. Had all those #WeNeedDiverseRandJ petitions actually made an impact?
Ayo would be kicking herself that she hadn’t finished herapplication. Hell, I was kicking myself that she hadn’t finished her application. This would be so much easier if I had a friend with me.
A blonde in a daisy-print mask a few seats over from me raised her hand. ‘Are we going to have to be socially distanced on the show?’
‘It’s going to be a pretty fucking boring dating show if we can’t make out with the Romeo,’ someone behind me muttered.
‘No,’ Murray said. ‘You will not be required to social distance. The show has put in place some very stringent protocols to make sure that no one on set has the virus. We’ll be working with a skeleton crew. Absolutely minimal numbers. Both cast and crew will be in strict lockdown in this hotel for the next two weeks and will be tested multiple times in order to ensure that we have a virus-free bubble. When production starts, everyone will be staying on theMarry Me, Julietproperty, and consequently will be inside that bubble, where they will continue to be tested regularly. No one new will come in, and people will only leave the bubble once they are eliminated from the show.’
Someone else raised their hand. ‘Does this mean all the dates will be on the set?’
‘Yes, it does. So if you came on the show just to go on a helicopter or a superyacht, then I’m sorry, but this is not going to be the experience you’re looking for.’
Another hand. ‘Who’s the Romeo?’
‘Nice try. You’ll find out on the first night, same as every other season.’
Another. ‘Is he locked down in this hotel too?’
‘No. We’re not foolish enough to put him anywhere near you before the show starts, so don’t break the rules and go looking for him.’
‘What about Tom Zelig? Is he locked down here?’
‘Z is married,’ Murray said, his eyebrow starting to twitch. ‘He’s on the show only to host, not to provide a plan B to the Romeo for you. If any of you so much as think of hitting on him, I’ll make sure you’re edited out of the show entirely. Am I clear?’
Another hand. ‘When will the show air?’
‘Same as always,’ Murray replied. ‘We’ll shoot for six weeks – about two episodes a week, twelve altogether – then there’ll be a gap of a couple of months before the premiere. Any more questions?’
I raised my hand.
Murray nodded at me. ‘Yes?’
‘Will we be paid for the two weeks we spend in lockdown here before the show starts?’
‘Yes, you will be paid at the same rate as stated in your contestant contracts for these additional two weeks of lockdown.’
I did the maths – $1400! – and tried to restrain myself from turning into the emoji with dollar signs for eyes.
‘However,’ Murray said, ‘the payment for the two weeks of lockdown is the only additional payment you will receive. As per your contract, once you are eliminated, you will no longer be paid.’
