Posts Tagged ‘voice’
While I was up in Sacramento for the state fair and to see a very special Weird Al show, I had the pleasure of seeing one of my uncles on my mother’s side. Truth be told, the trip to Sacramento, the admission to the fair and the ticket for the very special Weird Al show were all at his expense, right down to the gas money.
I was more grateful than I could think to express. Thank you just didn’t seem to cover it, and I decided to get in as many as I could while there.
As if all that weren’t enough, he gave me all the leftover foodstuffs he and my aunt decided they didn’t want, anymore. Besides tomato juice older than some fifth graders I know — this stuff never goes bad, he said — and enough tuna to make nightly casseroles through a week of Sundays, he gave me several varieties of coffee and tea, two Bankers boxes filled with soda, and almost 4 pounds of beef jerky of various varieties. Among many, many other things.
One of these things, in particular, was not foodstuffs, napkins or microwavable bowls at all — it was one of them newfangled GPS systems. Shock, awe and thankfulness, all over again.
He had one lying around and, because I’m now gainfully employed as a school photographer, he thought I could use it. I could, I can and I have.
In — four hundred — yards. Turn — right. Then — stay in the — left — lane.
Wouldn’t it be great if these handy little time-saving gadgets didn’t pretend their English was anything but broken?
Whenever I mention that I don’t have a job, yet, it seems that someone always comes up with the idea that I should be on the radio. I used to say something about how I’d take it under consideration while keeping my scoffs to myself. Time was, I could never see myself in that industry.
It isn’t for any socially unacceptable reasons. I don’t drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney or cuss like a Carlin, and my life’s idol isn’t that Freed guy. After all, those qualities would make me far more comfortable disc jockeying up those magical Interwaves. Instead, my trepidation came from being too gosh-darn weird.
Right now, I’m listening to a shuffled playlist of my top rated songs in iTunes. In a matter of minutes, it goes from Nobuo Uematsu to the stuff from Johnny Cash’s second comeback, from the Red Hot Chili Peppers to Dr. Demento, from Spoon to Aqua. That doesn’t even get into my other playlists.
The last time someone said that I could be on the radio, I could help but think that there really isn’t a place on a music station for that kind of weird stuff. If I tried to pull off that kind of stunt, I’d just make a fool of myself. Then, I remembered three facts that I had somehow forgotten.
First, I love making a fool of myself. Second, disc jockeys are paid to make fools of themselves. Third, the chance that a walk-in job applicant would immediately be offered a position on the air is probably very, very low, anyway. Among hypothetical jobs, it’s a perfect fit.
Even if I decide against looking for work at a music station, there’s always talk radio. With my boorish tone of voice and sometimes-haphazard flamebait opinions, I’d do even better there.
Tomorrow, I’ll be off to discover how the local radio stations treat walk-in job hunters, so wish me luck. With it, I might get to polluting the magical Interwaves within in a matter of years. Sometimes, radio gigs even pay more than not having a job to begin with.
That would be even better.
