Because I Can… the random thoughts of Marc Scott

The funny thing about being on the radio is that you never really know who is out there.  You sit in a small studio alone, and, mostly, you just sort of talk to yourself.  I often wonder if anybody is listening.  Are there 5 people?  500 people?  5000 people?  50,000 people?  It’s all a mystery to me.

I do my best with each show to feel like a friend.  I want people to turn the radio on weekday afternoons and feel like I’m talking with them.  That’s key by the way.  With them.  Not to them.  I want it to be more conversational.  Like I’m standing beside them at the water cooler, or riding with them in the passenger seat, or handing them ingredients while they prepare the family dinner in the kitchen.  If I can accomplish that, if I can be their friend, then I believe I’ve done my job.  I’ve taken the 4 hours that I spend reaching out to people, and I’ve kept you company.  Maybe I’ve made you laugh, maybe smile, maybe think.  Hopefully, in some way, I’ve engaged you.

Sometimes I get feedback.  Usually it comes in the form of a phone call.  I will say something that hits a chord with somebody, so they call the studio and we talk about it.  Other times I know people are out there because I’ll ask them to vote in a web poll or check out a link on our site (ckpcfm.com) and I’ll see a spike in our web traffic.  From to time to time a person will even catch me on the street and mention something I said during my show.  Outside of that, it’s a mystery… who is out there and how many there may be.

I came into work on Thursday and went to my bunk like I always do.  We have this wall of ancient filing cabinets in the building.  Each announcer has a drawer (bunk) to keep their stuff.  I have a lamp, a jacket, my binder of show prep and a headset.  Oh, and I keep a package of Halls in there too.  Only, Thursday when I opened my bunk I found something else.  A container and a card.

I opened the card and it said “Thank You” on the front.  Somebody had taken the time to send me a thank you card!  Just when you start to wonder if there are people out there, and if they are actually listening, somebody took the time to say thank you to me for what I do!  The container was filled with cupcakes and two of the best chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever experienced in my life, and I consider myself to be a connoisseur in this area!  It made my day!

I took those cupcakes and went on a quick tour of the station.  I offered them to a couple of the other announcers, my boss (scoring points) and the two people that were in the news department.  All of them immediately smiled.  All of them were thankful.  It’s amazing how something so simple can turn somebody’s day around.

There was a business card inside of the envelope that came with the cupcakes and cookies.  In big, bold letters it said, “R.A.K. Attack”  Random Act Of Kindness.  On the back side of it was a link to a local church, the Freedom House. (freedomhouse.ca)

We could all stand to be the recipient of a R.A.K. Attack from time to time I think.  More importantly, when is the last time you performed a R.A.K. Attack of your own?  Maybe it’s time you found your next victim!

I do the Afternoon Drive shift at FM92.1 in Brantford.  I’ve been in the time slot for a while now.  I started in radio back in 1995, and since then I’ve covered most dayparts.  I’ve done mornings, evenings, afternoons, weekends, holidays, you name it.  I think the only time slot I’ve never done is overnight.

The Afternoon Drive show works pretty well for me.  I’m definitely not a big fan of mornings, in fact, I’d be perfectly content to just skip them all together.  I just don’t believe it’s necessary to start the day before 10A.  I’m not lazy mind you.  I just don’t like to wake up.  In bed at 2A, and up at 10A.  This works quite well for me.  So doing the drive shift from 3p – 7p fits right in there.

I like my small town life.  I’m content where I’m at.  I get to be a Volunteer Firefighter. I get to sleep at night with mostly peace and quiet.  I’m not particularly worried about things like crime, traffic jams and smog.  I can breath fresh air, I can cross the street with ease, I don’t need to stress when I leave my place for a bit and forget to lock the door.

I fit here.  Where I’m at.  It doesn’t make sense to a lot of people, considering what I do for a living.  For most people, the goal in radio is to get to the big market and make the big money.  If you’re in Canada, you want to wind up in a market like Vancouver or Toronto.  That’s the goal.  The dream.  That is where you find your fame and fortune.

An opening came up for the Afternoon Drive shift at a Toronto radio station this week.  My boss asked me if I had applied.  When I told him no, he looked stunned.  He couldn’t believe it.  When he asked me why, I simply said, “I’m not a Toronto kind of guy.”

I must say, I was quite taken back by the encouragement I received from my boss.  Personally, I don’t consider myself to be an announcer the caliber of which you’d find in Toronto.  He felt quite differently.  He told me that I stood a very good chance and he still felt like I should apply.  He told me about the salary I’d make, and the exposure I’d get, and the windows of opportunity that could open for me.  It really did sound rather inviting.

Money isn’t everything.  Fame passes.  This is especially true in the cutthroat industry of radio!  One bad ratings book, one bad show, even one bad break, and you can be out the door before you even know what happened.  Then what?  Who will remember you when you haven’t been on the air for a week?  You’ll have long since been forgotten and all those people who adored you will now be adoring the new guy that took your time slot!

Would I like to make the money they are making in Toronto?  Sure I would.  In some stations it’s triple what I make now.  Of course, on the flip side of that, rent is probably triple what I’m paying too!  But, as cliche as it is, money isn’t everything and it certainly can’t buy you happiness!  It could buy me a new truck, but not happiness.

I know me well enough to know where I’d fit and where I wouldn’t.  A lot of people are questioning my decision to not even apply for the gig in Toronto.  I know that a fat salary and the facade of fame would only make me miserable.  So for now, I’ll stay put.  Sometimes incredible opportunities simply aren’t the best opportunities.

When we are kids we have a lot of crazy dreams.  At some point I think it’s safe to say that all boys make plans to grow up and be Firefighters, Astronauts, Professional Wrestlers and Baseball, Hockey, Basketball or Football stars.

I don’t recall personally ever wanting to be an Astronaut, although I was pretty sure I was going to be a Ghostbuster at one point.  I had it all planned out.  I was going to be Dr. Peter Venkman.  I couldn’t wait for the chance to drive Ecto-1.  That was one sweet ride!

I was terrible at sports.  All sports.  I was just awful.  I caught a pop fly with my teeth once.  I wasn’t interested in baseball too much after that.  I never had any dreams of being a
professional athelete.  I most definitely expected to grow up to be Hulk Hogan though. 

I used to pile drive my sisters stuffed animals.  Once I even pile drove my sister.  I wasn’t allowed to watch wrestling after that for a while.  Another favorite move was to deliver flying elbows off the top bunk onto my sisters stuffed animals.  I’m pretty sure I never performed that one on her! I was always laying the smack down on Big Bubba though.  He was a giant stuffed ape.

After I realized I was probably never going to be a Ghostbuster, and lack of muscles in any place other than my mouth crushed my hopes of being a WWE Champion, it was time to come up with another dream.

As a kid, I listened to Casey’s Top 40 religiously.  On Sunday mornings when I had to go to church, I’d even record it on cassette.  I was pretty sure he had the coolest job in the entire world.  As far as I knew, he worked for 4 hours a week, and all he had to do was talk a little bit and play cool music like Michael Jackson and Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer.  I couldn’t fathom how it could be better than that!

I made up my mind then, as a kid, laying in bed with my stereo sitting on a shelf directly above my head, following along as Casey “counted down the hits from coast to coast on great radio stations like Magic 102.5 in Buffalo, New York”, that I was going to be on the radio.  More than that, I was going to have my very own countdown!

Fast forward a few years.  Late 90’s.  ‘97 or ‘98 I think.  It actually happened… twice!  I had my own countdown.  I hosted the CCM Video Countdown which aired on televisions stations across North America, and I hosted the Top 20 Meltdown for Life 100dot3, a Christian radio station in Barrie.  I had done it.  I was 20 years old and I had done it.

I’ve been in broadcasting for 14 years now.  It’s been a few years since I hosted my last countdown though.  I think the last one, the YourMusicZone Top 10 – another music video countdown – ended in 2003 or 2004.  I definitely miss doing it.  People love countdowns.  It’s 2 hours of the best music, one after another.  What’s not to love?

This weekend -the long weekend - was supposed to be my weekend off.  I was looking forward to it too.  Dad and I had talked about possibly going to Huntsville for a few days.  It would’ve been nice to get away.  But before we had a chance to firm up plans, I found out that I was scheduled to work today, Sunday.

At first I was pretty upset.  I was sure I was getting the 3 day weekend since I worked Easter weekend.  I had tentative plans.  I wanted to go away.  I complained about it a lot.  I definitely had a bad attitude.  I try not to.  There is a positive side to everything if you look for it.  I just wasn’t interested in looking for it. 

I’m in the studio now.  I just finished hosting our Top 20 Countdown.  It’s live.  Nothing like the ones I used to do.  But it’s still a countdown. As I busted out my old countdown lingo, “climbing 2 notches”, “sliding back 1″, “this weeks biggest mover”, “knocking on the door to #1″ (yes, I’m a Casey Kasem countdown cliche machine) I flashed back to those days as a kid, listening to AT40 in my bedroom, dreaming about being on the radio.

In that moment, as I was teeing up this weeks brand new #1 song, my perspective changed.  I was reminded of why I got into this business in the first place.  I was reminded about how great I’ve got it.  I get paid to do what I love.  How many people can truly say that?  Suddenly, I didn’t feel so bad about working on the long weekend.

I found this story while I was doing some show prep today and I felt compelled to share it.

Swine flu may be killing people, but it’s the one thing that may keep the high five alive.

Though the Mexican government warns people to limit physical contact with one another to keep the virus from spreading, high five ambassador and co-creator of National High Five Day Greg Harrell-Edge says the nasty illness shouldn’t keep anyone from putting five up top.

He says, “I view this as an opportunity. High fives are less dangerous than shaking hands. Now’s the moment in history when high fives should overtake the handshake.”

Harrell-Edge compares high fiving to the “10-second rule” of dropping food, and argues that the quick contact isn’t long enough to spread disease.

He adds, “Even if there’s swine flu all over the floor, if I drop a Snickers bar for half a second I’m still gonna eat it. There’s no way it can transmit.”

He believes that if people stop high fiving, it means “the pigs have already won.”
Source: Wireless Flash

Don’t let the pigs win! Give somebody a High Five right now!!!

I’ve never been a morning person.  In fact, I think I’d be pretty content if it was just removed from my world all together.  It just seems unnecessary to me.  Anything I need to get done can happen in the afternoon when it’s sunny, in the evening when it’s quiet, or at night when everybody else sleeping and out of my way!

I started new hours at work this week.  I’ve gone from working evenings and weekend afternoons to doing straight Monday through Friday Drive.  For as long as I’ve been in radio I’ve believed I’d excel as a Drive guy.  It seems to suit my bio-rhythms.  It’s just taken 14 years to meet a Program Director who agreed I guess.  So here I am, working 3p – 7p, doing a show during my peak time.

There is one slight problem though.  Before, working evenings, I had until 5:30p to get stuff done at home before I had to leave for work.  So if I slept until 10, 11 or say, maybe the crack of noon, it was no big deal.  There was still plenty of daylight left for me to be productive.  Now, not so much.  I’ve got to leave for work everyday by 1:30p at the latest.  That means on those days when I sleep until the crack of noon, I get nothing done.

Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good, I suppose.  So it looks like I’m going to have to change that routine a bit.  You see, before, I stayed up all night and slept all day.  Now I guess I’ll only be able to stay up half the night and sleep half the day.  This is where I need my Mom.

When I was a kid, I hated waking up for school.  It was an event, to say the least.  Mom figured it out though.  Mom knows best, I guess they don’t say that for nothing!  She developed 2 great strategies for those mornings when I did not desire to rise.

The first involved a large pitcher, or bowl, of water.  When I wouldn’t get up, take a guess.  Yeah, you guessed it.  It brought a whole new meaning to “wetting the bed.”  I got soaked, the bed got soaked, anything within firing range got soaked, and then I’d spring from bed and chase my sister, of course assuming it was her fault.

I need to be eased awake.  If I get jolted awake, I get grumpy and I get a headache.  I’m a light sleeper.   If the neighbour across the street farts too loud with his window open, I’m awake.  Come into the room and whisper, that’s all I need.  I’ll hear you.  Knowing this, I believe it’s why Mom’s second strategy was her favorite of the two.

The second strategy involved Mom, unbeknownst to me, cranking my alarm clock to full volume.  Then, she would take up her post at my doorway and wait for the show to begin.  When the alarm would activate, I would shoot from my bed like a rubber bullet from a NERF gun.  If you don’t believe it’s possible for a person to defy gravity, try waking me up using this method and watch me as I suspend from the ceiling!  The pitcher of water brought new meaning to wetting the bed, well this method was nearly effective in making me crap myself!

It’s been a long time since Mom did that to me, but you know what, I’ve never gone to bed setting alarm once, since then, without checking the volume first.  I live on my own now, yet I still check the volume every night.  I suspect I’m permanently damaged.   I’m sure I’ll sort it out one day in therapy.

Even though these two strategies may seem like cruel and unusual punishment, although I imagine most reading simply find them hilarious, there is a larger point here.  Bottom line… they worked.  I need to change my routine, and desperate times call for desperate measures.  This could be exactly what I need.  They say it takes 21 days to break a habit.  With Mom’s strategies, I’d bet money I’d snap it in 2!

This weekend was beautiful.  The first nice weekend since, oh, maybe, October?  Yeah, it’s been a long, cold winter.  I was pretty convinced for a while that it was never actually going to end.  Then, came this weekend.  Saturday, sunshine and 13, Sunday, sunshine and 14.  All I can say is, it’s about stinking time!

It reminded me of a clip I had from one of my old morning shows.  I asked the question, “You know it’s Spring when…”

I was sifting through some old audio files looking for something today when I came across this… a skimmed down version of my final morning show at KAOS 99.5 in Peterborough Ontario.  It was our last day in the our current studios, and my last day on the air there.

Since we were in the process of moving, and nobody likes moving… rather than packing up all the junk in the building… I got the bright idea to give it all away on the air.  Funny thing is… people actually called for stuff!

So if you’re bored, here it is… my final morning show in Peterborough from 2007.

6AM HOUR

7AM HOUR

8AM HOUR

The other day I was on the air, about half way through a break, when all of the sudden I was hit with an overwhelming need to sneeze.  As quickly, and gracefully as I could, I talked my way out of the break, and hurried myself off the air.  I did it, not a moment too soon.

As I turned the mic off, I sneezed, and with quite substantial force.  In fact, I hadn’t even had time to move back from the mic, so the result of the sneeze involved my head bouncing off it.  It was actually quite amusing, though I am thankful that radio, unlike television, is not a visual medium.

As I sat there recovering from my head injury I couldn’t help but wonder something.  Why is it, that I can’t sneeze on the radio?  I reflected back on 14 years in broadcasting.  I pondered the wisdom and advice handed down to me by 5 different Program Directors, 1 Consultant, and, I even considered advice I myself have handed down during my tenure as  a PD.  Nowhere, in all of those memories, could I recall a moment when I had been instructed, “whatever you do… don’t sneeze on the air.”

I have been told not to swear.  That’s easy.  I don’t swear.  I recently learned that it’s a bad idea to make fun the Oscars on the air.  Mental note recorded.  No more making fun of an awards show that begs to be made fun of.  Oh wait… I’m not supposed to say that!  I’ve been told not to make fun of listeners on the air.  That seems fair.  Off the air, open season… on the air… not so much! :p  Yes, many little pearls of wisdom have been extended to me over the years, but never anything about sneezing.

Then I wondered, what about belching?  Again, back through the archives of wisdom, advice, and commandments of radio etiquette, I go.  Searching.  Contemplating.  Nothing… I’ve got nothing.  Nowhere in that library was there anything regarding belching.

Why is it then, that I am afraid to sneeze on the air?  I mean, seriously.  Everybody sneezes.  My dog even sneezes.  It’s just a part of life.  A natural phenomenon that can’t be ignored.  Belching… same deal.  Everybody belches.  I don’t care who you are, and how much you deny.  And yes, my dog belches too.  Quite well I might add!  So what’s the big deal?

At what point in our society, in our culture, was it determined that these things were wrong or bad or inappropriate?  Why can’t they be done in certain arenas?  I mean, if I’m watching Matt Hayes tell me it’s going to be Sunny and 6 tomorrow and in the midst of that prognostication he lets out with the mother of all belches, I’m going laugh.  Hard!  Then I’m going to think, wow… people on TV are just like the rest of us.  I always wondered, but I was never sure!

This is even worse in Christian circles.  I don’t know why.  I don’t recall the part in the Bible where it says, “thou shalt not allow noises of any form or fashion to escape from your body unless it is in speech.”  If I missed that verse, somebody help me out.

When people refer to the, sometimes, high and mighty front that certain Christians put forward, I’ve often heard the quote, “Oh, he’s a Christian.  His farts don’t stink.”  Can I just say that’s awesome!  Awesome because it’s the perfect summation of sad but true fact.  When did we start thinking we were better than everybody else?

Some will blacklist me now for blasphemy, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and bet that all the great heroes of the Bible belched and farted and sneezed, and, I suspect, they didn’t care!  I’ve gotta believe when God told Noah to build the ark he probably had a little gas.  I suspect the same to be true for Moses standing before the Red Sea.

My point is not that we should all go around freely belching and farting in public, although, if you need to let one go, by all means, let ‘er rip.  I just wonder when we got to a place where we started taking ourselves so seriously.  When did this overwhelming fear of the perception of others set in for us?  When did what we thought of ourselves, and more importantly, what God thinks of us, take a backseat to how everybody else views us?

I am an all-star belcher.  I can belch the alphabet to the letter “V” or, at least I have in the past.  I’m OK with this.  God created me.  I belch and fart and sneeze.  I can only assume then, that God created belches and farts and sneeze.  Since God sent His own son as a man, this only further leads me to assume that Jesus belched and farted and sneezed.  If it was OK for Him, I guess it’s OK for me!

Life is to short to sweat the little things.  The insignificant things.  The stupid things.  We all just need to relax.  We all need to get to that place where we are happy in our own skin, regardless of how it looks, and what noises it makes!  God made us all, and there is a verse in the Bible that says, “God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.”  Get that?  You’re good!  Regardless of what you family may say.  Regardless of what your friends may say.  Regardless of what the person in the checkout line, the guy that cut you off on the 403, your boss, the cable repair man and pimply faced kid behind the counter at McDonald’s says… you’re “very good.”

Let that be good enough!

I’ve filled in on the Morning Show at work a couple of times in the past week. Actually, I did it Thursday, Friday and again today. There is a distinct possibility that I’ll be doing it Thursday as well.  

It was not an easy thing for me.  I am such a creature of habit.  I have routine.  Structure.  It’s not that I can’t function without them, but, they become old hat for you.  You don’t necessarily acknowledge them.  But there is certainly a comfort found in having them there.

The biggest challenge for me has been the complete schedule reversal.  Currently working evening shifts during the week, I find myself on the air from 7p – 12a.  So to all of the sudden flip and work from 5:30a – 10a has not been easy.  I have a sleeping disorder.  I need to have consistency in my sleep or I’m basically screwed.  So filling in on the Morning Show wasn’t easy.

I’ve learned over the past couple days that I am still able to perform on limited sleep.  I’ve also learned that the moment I turn the mic off after my last break, my body pretty much shuts down.  All unnecessary functions resign, and I’m left with limited capacity.  Basically… just enough to safely drive home.

Despite this experience virtually turning my world upside down for a few days, I must admit, I’ve enjoyed it.  I used to be a Morning Man a couple of years ago.  I had forgot what it felt like.  You are responsible for waking up a city.  That is no small task.  How you greet each person as they start their day could have a profound effect on how they greet their day.  After all, as the Morning Man, you could quite possibly be the first voice heard as the sun slowly appears over the horizon.

What an honor.  What a privilege.  With a word I can bring a laugh.  With a song I can bring a smile.  Like a friend I can bring them up to speed on the events of the day.  I can offer the promise of sunshine, the concerned warning of snow covered roads, and the highlights of all that has taken place in their slumber.  It’s like being a member of an extended family.  I’m there for breakfast, for that first coffee.  It’s a great feeling to be able to contribute to the day to day lives of so many.  My only prayer is that I’m able to do it well, and bring a positive start to each turning page of the calender.

I must admit, however, that 3:30a is not my favorite time.  In fact, as the hands pass the 24 hours of the clock, it ranks somewhere in the bottom of my most celebrated hours.  This is about the time I rise.  After all, if you’re going to wake up a city, you need to be up and in place yourself before them!

Just when I start to feel displeasure for that early morning wake up call though, something happens.  When I walk out the door of my building and head to my truck, I am greeted with a confidence that I suspect can only be found when breathing the pre-dawn air.  

The world in which I live, for the most part, is still nestled in their beds when I leave for work.  The sun itself hasn’t even begun to rise.  In that transition between the final twinkles of a night sky, and the bold glow that kisses the horizon with the commencement of a new day, there is a serenity.  It’s in that calm and peaceful twilight that I find the assurance I need to carry on with the task at hand.

As I drive to work on the lonely, black roads, I feel like I own all that I see.  This is my city, my county, my territory. Rarely do I even see another vehicle on my journey.  And why would I?  For I have not yet stirred them from their rest. When I arrive at work, take my seat in the studio, and crack that mic for the first time, I will bring it all to life.

The power of that drive in the sea of darkness is not about ego though.  In fact, it’s quite the contrary.  It’s about pride!  It’s about preparation.  It’s about building confidence for the great responsibility that awaits me.  This morning, even if it’s only temporary, I will help you begin your day.  That makes me feel great about being me.  When I bid you good morning, just know that I truly mean it!