LOS ANGELES — Walking through the doors of a crowded San Francisco bar, Kristin Curtin was all business. Her eyes moved from face to face before coming to rest on a pretty young woman chatting up a male patron.

“You could just tell the way she was interacting with him that he was mesmerized. There were hundreds of people in that pub, but she just captured my attention,” recalled Curtin, a freelance casting producer. She gave the woman her business card and a pitch about why she might want to try out for a new NBC reality show that combines love and adventure.

The encounter, one of thousands Curtin and her colleagues initiated this winter in restaurants, nightclubs and shopping malls from Charleston, S.C., to Phoenix is the new order in the casting of reality television.

Getting the right people for programs like “Survivor” and “America’s Next Top Model” used to be largely a matter of putting the word out and waiting for the audition tapes to roll in. But networks now increasingly rely on recruiters to find the love ’em and hate ’em personalities that captivate viewers.

The trend reflects both the smashing popularity of reality TV and an industry consensus that, as casting director Robyn Kass put it, “Good TV is someone who doesn’t know that they are giving you good TV.”

Is there a camera watching?

A decade into the genre’s dominance, the applicant pool is polluted with wannabe actors and fame seekers desperate to be the next Snooki or Kate Gosselin, and the personas they display in their video auditions are often transparent knockoffs of the archetypes viewers have come to know: America’s sweetheart, the hick, the witch, the dumb jock, the party girl.

“Some girls will be blatant and say, ‘Well, I’m going to be this character for you,’ ” said Michelle Mock-Falcon, casting director for “America’s Next Top Model.” She said it’s not unusual for applicants to answer questions with a prepared monologue or claim to be just like Bristol Palin. “Everyone’s her friend. They played volleyball with her.”

Recruiters spend most of their time ducking in and out of crowded places. For “Jersey Shore,” SallyAnn Salsano made a tour of the Garden State’s clubs. Dating show recruiters often prowl bars, but not exclusively. Curtin discovered Tessa Horst, who won “The Bachelor” in 2007, by waiting at the finish line of a marathon.

For “Top Model,” recruiters favor amusement parks, gas stations and places where teens shop. “I always feel like Target is a gold mine,” Mock-Falcon said.

Viewers love big personalities — the table flippers, hair-pullers, loudmouths and backstabbers — only if their outrageousness is honest. “I want people who are going to … wear their heart on their sleeve and do something stupid and ridiculous and have real moments (rather than say) ‘I don’t care if I’m off first or second, I just want to say I was on the show and be a superstar,’ ” said Kass, who has cast “Big Brother” and “The Bachelor.” She estimated that half the contestants on those shows were recruited.

They’re all just models!

Some hard-core followers of the shows — including many rejected applicants — have worried in online message forums that recruiting allows producers to fill casts with models rather than true fans. Steve Pickett, an Oklahoman who has tried out for “Survivor” 19 times, called the practice of recruiting “crazy.”

“I’m sure they could find an antagonist in all those thousands of tapes they get,” said Pickett, 52.

The video auditions he has shipped off to the show’s casting director, Lynne Spillman, of whom he speaks reverently, include footage of him eating raw fish, swimming, and wrestling with his dog. Two years ago, he flew to New York to take a class at an outfit called the New York Reality TV School.

The 3-year-old school offers intensive one-day programs as well as private lessons, which run $85 for a 1 1/2-hour session, founder Robert Galinsky said. About half his students are actors who see reality TV “as a viable way to build out their career,” he said.

To find unique and genuine personalities, producers hire freelance casting directors or all-reality casting agencies like Kass’ firm. For the as-yet-unnamed NBC show — a “Bachelor” meets “Amazing Race” dating program — Kass’ company sent Curtin and other freelance recruiters to half a dozen cities this winter.

Most often, finding a fresh face means leaving L.A., where, producers said, half the struggling actors are angling to get on a reality show and the other half are insulted by the idea.

“If they are attractive in L.A., you’re not the first person who has approached them, and you won’t be the last,” casting producer Shannon McLaughlin said.