An excerpt from The Psychopath Test, about a guest booker for the kind of daytime TV show where families mired in tragedy yell at each other.
âWhat did your job entail?â I asked her.
âWe had a hotline,â Charlotte explained. âFamilies in crisis who want to be on TV called the hotline. My job was to call them back, repeatedly, over a matter of weeks, even if theyâd changed their minds and decided not to do the show. There had to be a show. You had to keep going.â
Of course lots of jobs involve relentlessly calling people back. It is soul destroyingââHonestly, it was awful,â Charlotte said, âI mean, Iâd been to universityââbut not unusual.
At first all the tragedy she had to listen to over the phone would grind her down. But you need to be hard and focused to be a good researcher so she devised ways to detach herself from her potential intervieweesâ misery.
âWe started to laugh at these people,â she explained. âAll day long. It was the only way we could cope. Then in the evening we would go to a bar and scream with laughter some more.â
âWhat kind of jokes did you make about them?â I asked her.
âIf they had a speech impediment, that would be brilliant,â she said. âWe put them on loudspeaker and gathered round and laughed and laughed.â
And, sure enough, Charlotte soon began to âfeel removed from the person on the other end of the phone.â
***
And then Charlotteâs secret trick:
âIâd ask them what medication they were on,â said Charlotte. âTheyâd give me a list. Then Iâd go to a medical website to see what they were for. And Iâd assess if they were too mad to come onto the show or just mad enough.â
âJust mad enough?â I asked.
âJust mad enough,â said Charlotte.
âWhat constituted too mad?â I asked.
âSchizophrenia,â said Charlotte. âSchizophrenia was a no-no. So were psychotic episodes. If theyâre on lithium for psychosis we probably wouldnât have had them on. We wouldnât want them to come on and then go off and kill themselves.â Charlotte paused. âAlthough if the story was awesomeâand by awesome I mean a far-reaching mega family argument thatâs going to make a really charged showâthey would have to be pretty mad to be stopped.â
âSo what constituted just mad enough?â I asked.
âProzac,â said Charlotte. âProzacâs the perfect drug. Theyâre upset. I say, âWhy are you upset?â âIâm upset because my husbandâs cheating on me so I went to the doctor and he gave me Prozac.â Perfect! I know sheâs not THAT depressed, but sheâs depressed enough to go to a doctor and so sheâs probably angry and upset.â
âDid you get disappointed on the occasions you found they were on no drug at all?â I asked Charlotte. âIf they were on no drug at all, did that mean they probably werenât mad enough to be entertaining?â
âExactly,â said Charlotte. âIt was better if they were on something like Prozac. If they were on no drug at all, that probably meant they werenât mad enough.â
You might think that Charlotte, over in England, with her ostensibly foolproof secret medication-listing trick, would be immune to inadvertently booking guests who were the wrong sort of mad. But you would be mistaken.
âWe once had a show called âMy Boyfriend Is Too Vain,ââ she said. âI pushed the vain boyfriend for the details of his vanity. Push push push. He drinks bodybuilder shakes all the time. He does the whole Charles Atlas. We put him on. Everyone laughs at him. Couple of days later he calls me up and while heâs on the phone to me he slices open his wrists. He has severe body dysmorphic disorder, of course. I had to stay on the phone with him while we waited for the ambulance to arrive.â Charlotte shuddered. âIt was awful,â she said.
















