Because I Can… the random thoughts of Marc Scott

There are a lot of things that you can’t really be prepared for in this business of radio.  Now, I never went to college for it, so perhaps there is a course for the unknown, but I suspect this is unlikely.

For example, when I took my first job as a morning man, there was nothing that could prepare me for the hour that is commonly known as 4AM.  Until I started doing morning radio, I was unaware that such an hour even existed.  I thought it was just a figment of my imagination.  An mysterious collection of 60 minutes that existed only in dreams, or at least, a collection that was only experienced while dreaming.  I had no idea people actually awoke at such an hour.  It seemed so uncomfortable and unnecessary.  A day shouldn’t – in my humble opinion – start before 10AM.

Another thing that you can never be prepared for is that as on air on personality, you will be the buck stops here person.  What I mean by this is that when people can find no other outlet upon which to cast their frustrations, they will call you.  Therapy is expensive and radio stations are a free call with multiple lines to get through on!

Over the course of my career, which has spanned 14 years, I have been personally held responsible for a number of circumstances, situations and phenomenon.  Upon careful inspection and consideration, it is indeed obvious that I am not to blame.  But when a caller is angry, upset, hurt, frustrated, or feeling any other number of emotions, and you happen to be the one that answers the phone, for that brief moment (and sometimes not so brief moment) it’s all pinned on you!

When the weather does the exact opposite of what I say it will do… it’s my fault.  When a motor vehicle collision occurs on the 403 during the afternoon rush and people get stuck in traffic for an hour… it’s my fault.  When the wrong team wins a world title… it’s my fault.  When an event we’ve been promoting for weeks is suddenly canceled… it’s my fault.  And yes… when the family pet runs away… it’s my fault.

When I worked in Simcoe at what was then CD106.7, I had one of my most memorable experiences.  At the time I worked evenings and weekends.  On a Thursday evening I had given a forecast for the weekend.  It was filled with sunshine and mild temperatures.  I worked that Saturday afternoon, and as luck would have it, the sky was filled with clouds and from them came rain.  It happens.

A particular listener who heard my forecast on Thursday and made outdoor plans for Saturday as a result, was less than thrilled with me when Saturday rolled around.  In fact, for nearly 30 minutes on this particular Saturday afternoon he reamed me out.  He went on about how useless and stupid I am.  About how I had ruined his family reunion / BBQ.  How I had no right to be on the radio given weather reports.  I mean, it went on and on and on.  I just quietly listened.

I hadn’t been on the air for very long when this happened.  Less than a year in fact.  I remember feeling devastated.  I thought people loved radio announcers?  I thought we brightened their day with a laugh or a smile or a song.  I couldn’t fathom being thrown under the bus by one of these people.  It really shook me and left me questioning my ability to do the job and do it well.

What I have come to learn over the years is that in 99% of the cases, it’s not personal.  In the case of this particular gentleman, his plans and hard work were ruined, and surrounded only by family, he needed to vent.  I bet his in-laws were there giving him a hard time! Unsure of where else to vent, he called the first logical person.  The person that gave him the weather forecast that encouraged him to have his party in the first place.

The same goes for the person stuck in traffic, the person who watched their team lose, and the person who lost their dog.

I took a call today from somebody who, in essence, was holding me responsible for the spread of the H1N1.  The caller went on about how I shouldn’t be exposing co-workers, how I shouldn’t be so selfish.  How I should just stay home.  They went on and on and on.  They were quite upset and quite serious.

I quietly listened.  When they were finished I acknowledged their concerns and then gently delivered some facts for them.  I explained that I had taken a week off work.  I further explained that I did not return to work until the doctor told me it was OK to do so.  I explained that although I had not been allowed on the air Tuesday or Wednesday, it wasn’t because of being sick and contagious, it was because my voice simply hadn’t returned yet.

In the end, the person was quite apologetic.  They explained that they were just frustrated and concerned by all the hype and attention surrounding H1N1.  Because they knew me – the voice on the radio – and because they knew I had suffered from the H1N1, I became the outlet for their concerns and fear.

I am a radio announcer.  I’m not a therapist.  I will not solve all the problems of the world in my lifetime.  I’ll just play some music, give some bad weather forecasts, and try to help you detour around the traffic nightmares.  Thankfully, experience and maturity over the years has just helped me to deal with one of the problems I was never prepared for by my teachers… the angry caller.

For as long as there has been radio, there has been people calling to vent.  Until they started billing by the hour for call time like a shrink does… the people will continue to call.  The best I can do is promise that when I answer, I’ll treat you with respect, listen to what you have to say, offer any assistance, information, or counsel that I can, and then, when we’re done, I’ll thank you for listening.

Since I announced my “BIG PLAN” on Friday, I’ve been getting a lot of messages from people wanting to know how they can help.  People have been getting in touch with me by email, Twitter and by calling into the station.  If you missed the “BIG PLAN” announcement, you can listen here.

Here are a couple of suggestions on how you can join me, Melissa, and FM92.1 in supporting the Brantford Food Bank.  At the end of the day, that’s what this whole “Twar” is about… supporting a great cause that needs our help!

One great challenge was put down by a Twitter follower @crazzie_cabbie.  They showed up at the radio station and dropped off a gift certificate for a local grocery store.  I will present that certificate to Heather from the Brantford Food Bank when I give her my cheque on Wednesday.  That would be an excellent way for you to do something.  The amount doesn’t matter.  Think about it, if 100 people just gave $5 that would go a long, long way!  Every little bit helps!  If you don’t have the time to go and get a gift certificate, or would just prefer to donate cash, that works to!

If you want to drop it off at CKPC so I can present it to Heather live on the air, that would be sweet!  Drop off your donations at 571 West Street in Brantford Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday.  Office hours are 9a-5p.  But remember, the deadline, and cheque presentation to the Food Bank will take place live on my show Wednesday July 15 at 3p.

Another one of my Twitter followers told me she was going to start an office challenge.  That’s an awesome idea!  She was going to put a bin in her office and start collecting donations from all her co-workers.  Brilliant!  If you work in an office setting, check with the boss and make it happen!  If you do it, let me know and I’ll make sure to give you a shout out on my show!  Tweet me!

Remember to follow me, and to tell your friends and family to follow me too.  The pledge is $1 for every new follower up to $1000.  http://twitter.com/MarcScott.  You should follow Melissa too!  http://twitter.com/DJMelissa.

If you have another idea or want to make a different challenge, let me know and I’ll post it on this blog, promote it on my show, and post it on the FM 92.1 web site at http://ckpcfm.com.  Everybody can do something, so lets get together and do something awesome for our community!

I bought a new truck this week.  I needed one.  Well, that’s what I tell myself, and anybody else that asks as well.  My old truck was, well, old.  It was a great truck.  A faithful truck.  But it was ready for retirement.  It had definitely earned it.  I didn’t mean to buy a new truck so fast, but I tend to be a little spontaneous about my vehicle purchases.  It’s a bit of a disorder.  Nowhere near as bad as it used to be, but a disorder nevertheless.

I love my new truck.  I love it so much that I’m going to pay for it for the next 5 years.  That’s a pretty serious commitment.  Not to make light, but truth be told, that commitment will last longer than my marriage.  I suppose I shouldn’t joke about things like that, but, what else am I going to do?  I didn’t take to kindly to the idea of being divorced with little to no say in the matter.  So I suppose I use humor as my defense mechanism.  This is, however, not the point of the blog.

As I drove my new truck home I felt blessed.  I was reminded how, despite all the trials I have lived through, and trust me, there have been trials, overall, I am exceedingly blessed.  Am I wealthy?  In the financial sense, certainly not.  Does God meet my needs daily?  Indeed he does!  I am blessed.

I’ve got this competition going on with one of the girls at work.  It’s silly really.  But it’s fun.  And if you can’t have fun at work, then maybe you need to find a new job!  We’re competing for Twitter followers.  Like I said, silly.  The deal she put on the table was that if she could surpass me in the number of followers by next Wednesday, July 15, then I would go to her house and clean her bathrooms in my firefighter gear.  She would then take pictures and post them on the radio station web site.  Personally, I don’t get it.  Who wants to see pictures of me in my firefighter gear, cleaning?  As I am slowly coming to learn, however, there are many things I apparently do not understand about women!

I wanted to win this little “Twar” (that’s what you get when you take Twitter and start a war).  Yesterday afternoon I started thinking about ways I could win.  Then I thought about ways somebody else could win.  Then I had a brainstorm.  There was no rain.  No thunder.  No lightning.  But it was a storm nevertheless.  In the end, I came up with, what I thought, was a brilliant plan.  I was beyond blessed this week when I brought my new truck home.  I decided I needed to pay it forward.

On my show today I made an annoucement.  I hyped my “BIG PLAN” all night last night, and all morning today on Twitter.  At 3:09p I revealed it live on the air.  With a representative from the Brantford Food Bank on the air with me, I pledged to donate $1 for every new follower I added on Twitter, up to a total of 1000 followers, or, $1000.  The deadline for the bet between Melissa and I is Wednesday afternoon.  Follow me!

It’s so easy for us to get caught up in our stuff.  Our cars and trucks and boats and motorcycles.  Our full fridges and our overloaded pantries.  Our flatscreen TV’s and surround sound systems and our computers and cell phones.  We busy ourselves so much with all our stuff that we can forget about the real, honest need that is out there.  The need doesn’t exist only in Africa!  It exists in our own backyards!  Times are tough all over the place.

The Brantford Food Bank has seen an overwhelming increase in use in the past couple of months.  Just in June alone 1200 families came to them looking for a helping hand.  Appeals have been put out for help.  They need it.  It’s so easy to do to.  What’s a couple cans of tuna, some soup, a couple of boxes of Kraft Dinner and a loaf of bread going to cost you?  $10?  Do you know how much something so little can mean to a family with unemployed parents due to the recession?

Jesus said whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.  He doesn’t suggest we help.  He commands we help.  We need to be reminded how blessed we are.  Sometimes, we need a little perspective brought into our lives.  I got it when I bought my new truck.  How can I enjoy something like that, knowing full well that a family in my town won’t eat dinner tonight?

I sound like a World Vision commercial, and you know what.  That’s fine.  I don’t care.  Truth is truth, and that’s all there is to it.  Do with it what you will.  I just hope you’ll help.  And if you don’t live in Brantford, find your own local food bank.  All it takes is one or two extra items the next time you’re in the grocery store.  Every little bit adds up!  Maybe you can’t do $1000 over a silly little bet.  But everybody can do something!

I tried online dating.  There.  I said it.  It’s out in the open.  I’m not entirely sure what I’m expecting to happen next, though I admit I’ve had visions of pointed fingers, ridicule and, in one particular scenario, people threw tomatoes at me.  What can I say?  I have a vivid imagination at times.  I’ve held this truth inside like a dirty little secret.  Like the way everybody loves to listen to “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go” by Wham in private, but when it comes on the radio in public, they act like it’s the dumbest song ever.

It’s not supposed to work this way, or at least, that’s what I tell myself.  I’m if I’m going to be honest, I think that’s why I’m embarrassed by it.  Who relies on an online dating service to find their true love?  Fred & Ginger never had computers or the interweb or email and they got to together every time!  I know… I have all the movies on DVD.  That said, it still gets me, right here, every time Meg Ryan says, “I wanted it to be you” to Tom Hanks in You’ve Got Mail.

I don’t go out much.  OK, I don’t go out ever.  As I looked at the circumstances of my life, I realized that I had 3 options for meeting women.  Work.  Church.  Fire.  I’m not convinced that mixing business with pleasure is ever a good idea, so I’ve avoided dating anybody at work.  I’m also not particularly fond of the idea of dating married men, and there are a lot of those at CKPC.  I suppose that has been a factor too.

My church is pretty small, and it seems to me that there aren’t very many, if any, single women in it.  Truth be told, I sit in the back corner by the door, sneaking in as soon as the service starts, and sneaking out as soon as it ends.  I’ve definitely looked around the room or time or two though, you know… just to see what I see.

The idea of meeting a woman at a fire call certainly has a rugged, romantic appeal, in a Hollywood movie kind of way.  The hero (that would be me) forcefully charges into the burning building.  He pays no attention to the dangers that surround him.  His only thoughts are on finding the damsel in distress (do they even say damsel anymore?) and rescuing her.  With all the grace of a Mack truck he bursts his way through the closed door, runs to the fair maiden, tosses her over his shoulder, and carries her right into happily ever after!  How great would that be?

Since it became alarmingly obvious to me that none of my limited social settings were going to prove fruitful in the quest for true love, and since my social awkwardness was going to keep me from just walking up to random women in the grocery store, I determined a new strategy was in order.  With that in mind I prayed this prayer…

Dear God. It’s me.  Marc.  Wait… you knew that.  Sorry.  Anywho, here’s the deal.  I’m an odd sort of guy you know?  I mean, I don’t like the things that a lot of people like.  I think different.  I work different.  I watch old movies, and I listen to old music.  I call the woman at the checkout counter ma’am, and I still open the doors for ladies at Walmart, even though the feminist independents get a little cranky with me about it.  That’s OK though.  I do it anyway.  I’m a bit of an old soul, I guess, and I’m looking for somebody that would be OK with that.  I’m not a social animal.  I like quiet nights in.  I like to take spontaneous drives and random walks in the wilderness.  You already know this.  I’m rambling.  OK, so God, here’s the thing.  If You could find the perfect girl for me and send her to my apartment, that would be really cool.  Thanks so much.  You’re the best!  Amen.

I really prayed that prayer.  Just like that too.  Then I waited.  And I waited some more.  Then I checked with the landlady to make sure my name was beside the right apartment number on the directory inside the front door.  I switched apartments about a year ago, and I wanted to make sure they had me listed in the right one.  Then, I waited some more.

One day, I was thinking about things, and how it didn’t seem to be working out for me.  Then it hit me.  It’s not very gentlemanly to expect a lady to come to your apartment on a first date.  In fact, that’s just downright inappropriate!  I tell you with the utmost sincerity that my intentions were entirely pure.  Nevertheless, my mom, and maybe even my grandma, would have some pretty strong thoughts on such behaviour!  So with that, I apologized to God for not thinking it through in the first place.  Then I joined eHarmony.

I confess now that I went into this venture, which began in January, with an attitude of defeat.  It’s just not how I pictured it in my mind.  Boy meets girl.  Girl notices boy and smiles.  Boy’s knees get weak.  Boy faints.  Boy comes around, stands up, dusts off, looks around to see if anybody notices, then tries to act cool for girl – she wasn’t supposed to notice.  Girl giggles – she noticed.  Boy’s heart flutters.  Boy says something witty.  Well, boy tries to say something witty.  Mostly he just stumbles over his words.  Girl smiles.  Boy’s knees get weak again.  Boy realizes that he needs to find a way to end this embarrassing merry-go-round.  Boy asks girl out for Dr Pepper.  Girl says yes.  Romance ensues.  Love blossoms.  Happily ever after begins.  Nowhere in this entire drawn out fantasy that has played over and over and over in mind is there a scene where boy emails girl and doesn’t even know her name!

The first step to fixing a problem is recognizing you have one.  I had a problem.  I was embarrassed about online dating.  So embarrassed that it took me months before I even told my parents.  I didn’t want anybody to know because I felt like less of a man.  Like geekboy, sitting in his bedroom playing online chess with Herbert from Zimbabwe until 4 o’clock in the morning.

Recently, I realized that maybe it’s not so bad.  Maybe it’s not nearly as socially unacceptable as I had made it out to be in my head.  I have confessed before, I tend to over-think things.  This may have been one of those things.

I am not convinced that I will meet my dream girl through an online dating site.  However, I am now also not convinced that I won’t.  That was a big step for me because maybe I can try a little harder, or take it a little more serious, or at least not be so dang humiliated by the idea of it!  And in the end, if eHarmony provides me with nothing else, at least they reintroduced me to a great song by Natalie Cole that I had long since forgotten and that was worth the price of membership alone!

When I was younger I had more money than brains.  Or maybe I just had no brains?  I suppose an argument could be made either way.  In my frivilous and carefree days of living at home I bought cars.  A different one every 6 months, or so it seemed!

In about a 3 year span I owned a 1985 Pontiac Fiero (still my favorite), a 1989 Pontiac Formula Firebird (which I miss terribly), a 1999 Pontiac Grand Am (which I was glad to part with), a 2000 Monte Carlo SS (which was a dream car), a 2002 Pontiac Grand Prix GT (which could corner like no other car I’ve driven), another 2000 Monte Carlo SS (which never lived up the standards set by the first one) and finally, a 2001 Ford Explorer Sport Trac.

Clearly, I had issues.  That, however, is another blog for another day.  When I got my truck, I seemed to put my vehicular indecisiveness behind me.  I had one to keep.  I got my truck in 2003 or 2004 I think.  I forget exactly.  I’ve been driving it ever since.

My truck has been a faithful companion.  Loyal to a fault.  In fact, my relationship with my truck outlasted my marriage.  I suppose that shouldn’t be funny.  But, it kind of is just a little.  I’ve had 2 years to get over the brokenness of a divorce I never desired.  I think it’s OK for me to see a lighter side of it now.  My truck has also nearly lasted longer than my last 4 jobs!  It’s seen me through 2 radio stations, 1 radio show, 1 TV show, and a stint in patient transfer.  It’s been there through it all.

In all those years, across all those miles, my truck has run like a dream.  It’s never left me stranded.  It’s never stuck me with a huge repair bill.  It’s been a perfect truck.  A perfect friend.  When I think back on it now, I have a little guilt.  Like maybe I should have waxed it more or something?

Yesterday on my way to work, my brakes fell off.  All of them.  Front and rear.  Drivers side and passenger side.  They fell off.  If I’m being perfectly honest, I am mostly ignorant in the ways of all things mechanical.  I confess, I had no idea such a feat was even possible.  That said, if you’re looking for the improbable, unthinkable, unheard of to happen, take my mug shot and slap me on the poster.  You’ve got yourself a spokesman!

Thankfully, though I was not thinking this at the time, it happened less than half a block from Canadian Tire.  I managed to limp my truck down the street and find a parking spot right in front of the service centre.  Then I started preparing for the worst.  I knew my brakes were bad.  There are a lot of things on my truck that are bad.  That’s why I’m looking for a new truck, and have been for 2 months.  I was just hoping the new one would come before the old one packed it in.

I dropped off my keys and walked to the radio station which is, thank the Lord, not far away.  The trek across town gave me some time to decompress and prepare myself for the phone call with the mechanics assessment.  I have already spoke with God about this, I needed forgiveness for some of the thoughts in my head during that walk!  They were less than stellar thoughts.

When the mechanic called me and told me the cost, I think I might have almost wept a little.  Keep in mind, this is taking place while I’m live on the air.  I actually had to put the mechanic on hold at one point during the conversation so I could do a break.  When you’re doing a live radio show and you’re driving people home on a sunny Friday afternoon, it’s not a great time to be told your truck repair bill is going to hit $700!

I, of course, talked about my adventures on my show.  That’s what I do.  I talk about life, about my life.  People seem to enjoy it.  I honestly didn’t think my existence was overly thrilling, but I guess it makes me a real.  People can relate to real.  I also shared some of my adventures on Twitter.

I won’t lie to you and tell you I was entirely positive about the experience.  In fact, despite my best efforts, I was mostly having a bit of a pity party thinking about the $700 repair bill.  Leave it to my listeners, and my tweeps, to help me check myself though!  What a blessing they are.  I’m grateful for the way God can tap you on the shoulder on bring about a change of perspective through the most unexpected ways.

The overwhelming response to my cries of brakes falling off and $700 repair bills was, “I’m glad you’re OK” or “Thank God it didn’t happen on the 403″ (which I drive to work) or “Thankfully nobody was hurt.”

I was convicted big time as I read those responses, and took some listener calls.  I’m normally a pretty upbeat kind of guy, but I was definitely looking out the wrong coloured glasses on this one.  While I was questioning God, in my mind, about why this had to happen when He knows I’m trying to get rid of the truck, or where am I supposed to get $700 from, I needed a reality check.  I got it.  I’m grateful for it.

Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing. James 1:2-4 NLT

That passage from James is a favorite of mine.  It’s a reminder that nobody said life is going to be easy.  We are going to have bad days, and bad things are going to happen.  I don’t think this passage is about rejoicing over $700 repair bills as much as it’s about finding something in the midst of difficult circumstances to rejoice in!

If my brakes had fallen off 10 minutes earlier, I would have been going 100km/h down the 403 westbound heading to Brantford.  Instead, my brakes fell off in the parking lot of the Petro Canada Gas Station.  I am blessed!  So blessed.  In that, I find I can find joy, even though my brakes did fall off.

I don’t consider myself to suffer from O.C.D. though, admittedly, I may have a couple of OCD like tendencies.  For example, whenever I eat at Subway, I have to fold the wrapping that my sub comes in, in a very specific manner.  I have no idea why.  I have no idea what started it.  I just know that it’s one of my quirks, and I can’t seem to help myself.

One of my other OCD habits has to do with radio.  Since the very first time I did a break at (then) 1470 C-HOW, I have had a pen in my hand.  14 years of radio, and never once have I cracked a mic without a pen in my hand.  I can’t do it.  Truth be told, I’ve actually had to skip breaks in the past when I didn’t have my pen readily available.

I’m not exactly sure what I think will happen.  Perhaps the sky will fall?  Perhaps I’ll open my mouth and the voice of a female will come out?  Perhaps electric pulses will shoot from the end of the microphone and fry my brain?  Honestly, I’ve never really given it much thought as to the consequences.  I just know that I’ve never allowed it to happen in 14 years and I don’t intend to start now!

Not only do I need to have a pen in my hand, but I’m also very loyal to my pens.  Like a dog or something.  When I used to work at OPT my partners would make fun of me because I had the same pen from the day I started until the day I left there!  I worked there for a year and a half.  Some of them would steal my pen and watch me panic as I chased them to try and get it back.  Again, not sure what started this.  All I know is, it is what it is.

The pen I use at work (FM 92.1) is the pen I started with on my first shift there.  It’s been a couple weeks shy of a year.  It’s my good and faithful pen, and I’ve held it for every word I’ve ever spoken over the air.  This afternoon, however, something unthinkable happened.  In the second half of the 3p hour… my first hour on the air, my pen died!

If I told you I was unphased, I’d be lying.  If I told you my voice didn’t get a little shakey during my first break after realizing it was dead, I’d be lying.  I mean, I wasn’t going to break down and start crying.  But I was definitely concerned about whether or not I could pull off the rest of my show.  It totally messed with my head!  Ridiculous, but true!

I continued to hold the pen while I told the sad story of it’s demise on my show.  Anybody listening must have thought I was some kind of fruit loop.  I confess, I questioned this myself!  I even took a picture of my dear pen and posted it on the stations web site (http://bit.ly/r0rqo).

After sharing the story something happened that made everything OK again.  A couple of girls listening to my show, Jessica and Laura, showed up at the station to drop off a new pen for me.  I am not entirely sure of their motives.  Perhaps they were just hoping I’d shut up about my pen.  Or maybe they were genuinely concerned and trying to do a good deed.  I will choose to assume the latter.  All I know is, it made my day!

I didn’t throw out my old pen.  In fact, I tucked it safely in my binder where it will likely remain for the rest of my broadcasting career.  Now it will just have a friend to keep it company.  A shiny new silver pen, from my two pen angels.

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.

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!

Cold and Flu season is upon us.  Up to this point, I’ve been very blessed as to suffer from neither.  Many of my co-workers at FM 92.1 and 1380 CKPC, however, have not been so fortunate.  Lord willing, I will continue to experience such a blessing.

There is something about this time of the year that has me somewhat perplexed, and I offer this to you now to consider for yourself.

When we have a cold we often use the following two phrases…

“My nose is runny.”

“My nose is stuffy.”

As you read those perhaps you are thinking to yourself, “Ok, so what?  I use those phrases all the time when I’m sick.  Big deal.”

Here is the part that has me slightly flummoxed.  Look past face value of those statements.  Consider them at a slightly deeper level.  When you do this, you can’t help but notice that they seem to be the opposite of each other.  So why is it we use these statements interchangeably? 

Really, in doing so what are we saying?  We’re saying that the toilet is flushing while it’s plugged!  I apologize for the slightly graphic metaphor, but in essence, that is what we’re saying.

I can appreciate the fact that I have far too much time on my hands to sit around and contemplate such things.  Far be it from me to consider myself a master of the English language as well.  But there are certain things that just sound funny.  Look at how huge that little guy is.  That genius is such an idiot.  The silence is deafening.  I broke that accidentally on purpose.

The oxymoron.  I was in public school when I learned that term.  It has always stuck out in my mind.  I mean, lets be honest, when you’re a kid anything with the term moron in it is one you’re going to remember.  It would seem that is exactly what we have here.

So dear friends, grab that Kleenex and blow!  Blow for all your worth while your nose is runny.  For, if you don’t free it all before it’s too late, it might get stuffy!