(54) "Vulture Skin" commercial

I'm still traumatized when I think about it. It's not why I'm neurotic, though. That's different. This is hard to forget, especially how I feel about it. I knew there was something wrong from the start. I was used to having "live" broadcast commercials from another studio.

Things generally went smoothly, with the occasional blooper but never anything unprofessional or alarming. I saw on my sheets for that evening there would be several such commercials. The studio was busy, with people coming and going.

Just as I was leaving myself, I saw a very old man being rolled in a chair to the registration desk. Two men helped him out to stand in front of the desk, but as soon as they let go, he collapsed to the floor.

He looked severely unconscious. The two men were worried and called for help, all while attempting to reanimate him. An ambulance arrived, and most people in the studio came near to see better. With an oxygen mask and after many manoeuvres, he slowly regained consciousness.

I was nervously playing with the chain around my neck the whole time. They sat him back in the wheelchair and rolled him towards studio B for the live commercials! It turns out he was chosen for the "vulture skin" anti-rheumatoid ointment ad. I always thought it was a mistake from the very beginning; he looked more than old, ill, and in his last senile miles.

They must have made a mistake. I had to go to the bathroom, prepare, and meet my first guest. Everything went well. I had nearly forgotten about the old man when I suddenly saw the name "Vulture Skin" brand... He was on next, but there was a delay, so while I was cleaning the corner of my eyes with my little finger, I was back live on the screen without knowing it.

It was when I saw the cameraman waving furiously at me that I realized. This was the most embarrassing moment of my career. I smiled and said, "Oh! Hi! Welcome back!" and so quickly and immediately introduced my last guest. He walked on the stage and sat beside me.

Before he could answer my first question, he barely opened his mouth; I saw my cue for the commercial. Trained to act in awkward moments, I apologized for interrupting so soon; we were coming right back after a short break.

Instantly, an image is produced from studio B. It's all blurred; it seems to be a close-up, but it's all blurred. It comes into focus, and it's the old man I saw, wrapped in a carpet. He has a headband with a few feathers.

There's a teepee beside him and a fake fire pit in front of him, with a black pot hanging. He's holding a long wooden pipe, smouldering at the end. His eyes are shut, puffed, and red. His mouth is half open. There's the background music of flute and chirping birds, but the old man isn't moving; he looks unconscious.

The audience sounds surprised. The crew director is swearing. Back to me. I looked surprised this time, but better prepared. My guest looks perplexed. He goes to speak, but I see the cue again for the ad. I didn't have to say anything this time; he's suddenly on the screen again.

Eyes barely open, pipe in his mouth, with the nice background flute and birds chirping. He suddenly starts to cough and choke from the smoke—back to me—I wasn't ready again; I wasn't getting any cues, so I was suddenly seen on the screen chewing my thumbnail!

As soon as I open my mouth—back to Studio B. The old man is seen lying on his side, coughing and gagging. The crew director is swearing. Back to me. I was telling my guest not to worry. "Oh! Hi!"—back to studio B. About six people are seen around the old man, gasping terribly and choking—back to me—I'm not ready.

My guest is standing up and yelling. I'm shaking my head in disbelief! What a fiasco! I can hear the director swearing. Back to studio B. The old man is on his back, breathing through a tube down his throat—back to me—my guest is gone.

I politely invite everyone back next week. I'm not even finished talking—back to studio b--the old man is leaning with watery eyes closed against the teepee. There's a voice-over this time with the flute and birds.

It's the text for the ad. There's no way the old man could have said all that in the first place! I ran to studio B. The crew director was swearing. The old man died because of the pipe. He was already severely asthmatic, and since new regulations forbid tobacco smoking inside, the pipe was filled with polyurethane, just for the effect.

Well, it poisoned the old man. He was already deathly ill, and his bad fall earlier certainly didn't help. I cried much that evening at home. My husband doesn't think my being seen cleaning my eye corners, chewing my thumb, and all the rest in front of millions is worse than the old man dying. I'm still traumatized when I think about it.