Saturday, October 29, 2011

Talk Thursday: Frustration - aka dead air from the big boys

Running a week behind in my topics…. If you haven’t noticed – this week’s topic, Occupy/ied/ing, last week Frustration. This is how far behind I am, the frustrating conversation I’m about to relate happened a week ago this morning. People know I work for a radio station, oh, okay.

“Hi, I’m Calista and I work for a radio station”

See I should never assume. For the past fourteen to sixteen years of my job I’ve been not only the program director, but also the operations manager – that relates into me being responsible for, crap EVERYTHING. Yes, everything, if there is a light bulb out the morning guys will unlock the doors in the pitch black until I have a morning shift and find the light out and change it. If a satellite dish is wonky (an extremely technical term), no I don’t fix it, I coordinate with the engineer(s) until it’s fixed. I have learned all sorts of technical terms, i.e. sparkles, bongs, and the most important one, “Dead air.”

My job is so very technical and important in relation to dead air - that I get 1) paged 2) phoned and 3) did I mention I have two phones, yes they both get called. Five straight beeps in the message and it’s the AM, five alternating bee dee bee dee (think of them as beeps) and it’s the FM. Are you still with me?

The amount of dead air is growing on our AM station. Last Saturday morning, I get awoken with dead air on the AM at 2:12am, by the time I checked the radio we were back on and ten seconds later I was back in bed. Then at 7:56am I get awoken by the AM once again. This time I’m fully awake and as the station leaves dead air for the comfort of ABC news I’m dialing a radio network that sounds something very close to Flear Phannel. The following conversation ensued:

“Engineering, this is Bozo”
“Good morning Bozo, I am Calista with KCFM in Florence, Oregon. We’re a Music affiliate (read- name altered to protect the innocent and my butt) and I’m experiencing dead air.”
“Well there was dead air, but the network is on the air. “
“Could you please tell me where the dead air came from?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the dead air, did it come from Flear Phannel or Music?”
“Well I can’t say.”
“You can’t say? So it came from Music.”
“No, I can’t say that. The device that suffered the dead air is in our studios.”
“Oh, so the dead air came from Flear Phanhel.”
“No, I can’t say that.”
“Then it came from Music.”
“No, I can’t say that.”
“I don’t understand, the device that the dead air came from is in your studios, but you don’t know that the dead air came from Flear Phannel.”
“So it came from Music.”
“No, I can’t say that.”

At this point I crawl through the phone line all the way to Colorado and strangle him with his wits. And I’m wide awake at 8:05am on a Saturday morning. Too, mean.