Promotion Commotion, Ten Years Later

I'm taking a breather from essaying about life in quarantine to discuss something personal:

I don't normally broadcast this out of fear of jinxing myself, but I had a job interview in Schaumburg on Thursday. I thought it was going to be a phone interview, but I was asked to drive out for a socially distanced sitdown. (Yes, it's essential work, and I can't elaborate further.) It occurred to me while driving out of the city that not only was my interview one town over from my old office, it was on the 10th anniversary of when I was replaced.

Four months ago on Facebook, I wrote a lengthy post comparing and contrasting where I was in 2010 as we approached the new decade. I discussed my last radio gig, but not what led up to losing my job. To sum up another long post, I had my EOE-obligated job interview on February 8th, then spent the next 11 weeks waiting for a decision that was supposed to take 14 days. I discovered by accident that at least two rounds of interviews were held without my knowledge. During my last week in the office, I noticed people were strangely avoiding me, and Administrative Professionals Day came and went without a mention. I was the receptionist, for chrissakes.

On April 30th, I was summoned to the business manager's office. It was about 90 minutes before the office closed for the weekend. The manager informed me that after some deliberation, it had come down to me and another candidate... and they went with the other candidate. This business manager, someone who made absolutely no effort to get to know me in the time we shared an office space, watched disdainfully as I clean out my desk. The traffic/billing manager --my actual boss-- escorted me out to the parking garage while fighting back tears.

The timing was awkward, to say the least. I had my Level E (graduation) show at Second City the next day, and I had mentioned that to people in the office. None of my now-former co-workers showed up, and even though the show went okay, I felt numb. The next day, after my last training center class, some of us went out for drinks across the street. I had a train to catch, so I only stuck around for a half-hour. Before I left, I said thank you and farewell to my classmates before noticing that my voice was quivering. I noticed then and there that I was waking up the next morning to nothing. As I walked from Corcoran's Bar to Sedgwick Brown Line, it was my turn to fight back the tears.

That was what was on my mind after my job interview on Thursday. Inexplicably, one decade and another ratings quarter on the outside looking in, the management at my old station hasn't changed. A number of other people, including my old direct superior were forced out for myriad reasons. Almost everyone I've been in touch with had comtempt for the general manager, but especially that business manager. The corporate office in Camarillo, CA couldn't care less who's in charge as long as the Chicago branch is turning a profit. Maybe its more symptomatic of commercial radio in general, but the cutting of corners to stay in the black is absurd. Six different people have come and gone in my former position, no one lasting more than 2 1/2 years.

As time has marched on, I've only grown more embarrassed to have ever worked for Salem Media Group. It's just another outlet for right-wing misinformation, something I barely tolerated in the late 2000s that I can't bring myself to listen to now. The same people that are encouraging armed protests against stay-at-home orders, that insinuate Jewish elected officials are somehow Nazis, are stirring outrage over temporary inconveniences, that gloss over President Trump's failures. They are (albeit indirectly) enablers of unnecessary chaos, gaslighters of the highest order.

So, while I was in the neighborhood, I took a selfie of myself flipping the bird at my former office. I figured it was the least I could do.

Clearly, I'm not ready to forgive. I don't know if I ever will be. I'm a bit more pragmatic than I was 10 years ago. I did everything I could to not burn bridges, but things have grown too dire and too polarized. My work situation is imperfect (for now) but I've made peace with the fact that I'll probably never work in radio again. I'm too out of the loop. Someday, I hope to write a book about my time in radio, with a plot structure not unlike "Gulliver's Travels." My two years at Salem were going to be the last chapter of the book. Unlike Swift, I'm grasping to find any kind of happy ending.

(647)

Dispatches from Arm's Length, Part 2

Since Saturday, March 21st Chicago has been under a "shelter in place" order. Not enough Chicagoans were taking this seriously, so on the 26th, Mayor Lightfoot ordered all the beaches and parks closed. The weather was gorgeous on the 25th, but necessity took priority over everything else. There's a pandemic, and this mayor is not here for populist pandering.

The most optimistic projections are getting crushed. President Trump ignored advisers and medical experts alike, and projected everything reopening by April 12th. In spite of the Christian conservatives that Trump pandered to in 2015-16 (and still does) businesses aren't resuming normal operations by Easter. The new projection, if all goes well, is closer to April 30th.

As I mentioned before, I am predominantly a substitute teacher. When the four districts I work for all shuttered their schools on March 13th, I had to accept the reality that I would be mostly out of work until their projected date, April 6th. It was a domino effect, each local district one by one making an announcement, until Governor Pritzker more or less forced an extended shutdown, all in a matter of hours. I added the Postmates app on top of driving for Lyft, my summer job. Alas, ride-sharing and food delivery have both gone bone dry, and I wonder if sitting on my car waiting for nothing is worth risking my health.

I see people on social media lose track of the day of the week, as whatever signifies their routine (school, church, etc.) goes on the wayside. I have no problem distinguishing Tuesday from Wednesday, but time is different matter. I'm having a hard time getting out of bed; I've been up until 2 most nights and walking up between 11 and noon. My normal idea of "sleeping in" is more like 9:45, maybe 10 o'clock. There's always things to do. Now I can't find the motivation...

(644)

Random Notes, February 2019

Warm opinions, never reheated:

+ The crisis in Venezuela is not only under-reported, but also quite misunderstood. Authoritarianism knows no political stripe, and the blithe narcissism of Chavez gave way to the deadly fumbling of Maduro. The structure of a government, whether its democratic or monarchic, is irrelevant when its leader is beyond incompetent.

+ Bernie Sanders, you had your chance in 2016. Let someone else vie for the Democratic nomination. We've overdue for a woman as president anyway.

+ I've more or less given up trying to find temp work, or any sort of office work. This school year is the first where I'm totally committed to substitute teaching. I'm not taking a two- or three-month breather for a seasonal gig, let alone a position that offers being promoted to full-time but never quite pans out. Its been almost nine years since I was replaced at Salem Communications, and as time has worn on I feel far less motivated to find work elsewhere. (I still maintain a spreadsheet of jobs that I've applied for, mostly for posterity.) Some of you will recall that I considered teaching full-time, but reconsidered. Its not perfect, but I've found a distinct groove between subbing and ride-sharing.

(615)

Next week and the week after: a redux of my 1988 and 1989 music blogs.

Promotion Commotion: Five Years Later

Five years ago this week, I was replaced at my position at Salem Communications' Chicago branch. It was the culmination of 3 1/2 months of sitting on my hands, and the end of 11 quixotic years of pursuing my lifelong dream of a career in the radio industry. I went into greater detail about those final few months in a blog four years ago, and though I'm not necessarily at peace with how things played out, radio is a chapter in my life that is mostly behind me.

Even if that career path didn't totally pan out, part of me couldn't quite give up radio. In April 2011, I landed a job interview for a producer/sound engineer position for a time-brokered* show. The host of the show was a "life guru" and fitness expert who lived in a giant house in a tony Chicago suburb. Her show was on my old station for a short time, so I knew the name and the concept. The first two-thirds of the interview went fine; it was a pleasant conversation with just a handful of the usual bullet-point interview questions. I mentioned I had a blog --this blog-- when she asked for a sample of my writing; I nonchalantly showed her a recent entry and she discovered we different political beliefs. The interview was more or less over.

In hindsight, I dodged two bullets. The guy who helped me land the interview admitted that the life guru was an egomaniac and at times impossible to work with. If something bad happened, he claimed, everyone would take the blame except her. As such, her time-brokered* show has been on and off hiatus several times since our meeting in Hinsdale. By mid-2011 my search for radio work in any capacity was treading water, so I put more energy into finding work that suited my other skills.

Being replaced at the cluster was the second bullet. Since was I dismissed on April 30th, 2010, there have been four different people in my old position. The candidate that my disingenuous business manager preferred lasted 11 months before quitting, and there's been a different person at the front desk every year or two since. As I feared and rightfully assumed, both stations are more concerned with putting out a mediocre, pandering product for a fringe audience rather than compete with top Chicago AM stations like WLS, WGN, and WBBM. Things hit a bizarre nadir when this happened, as brazen and transparent a publicity stunt can get.

Though the tone of this blog post might seem spiteful, I'm happier now than I was in the waning days of my run at Salem. I no longer have to hide the fact that I'm a progressive in an office that was overwhelmingly conservative, and I no longer deal with irate listeners or incompetent management. I still volunteer from time to time at the station where I worked in community college, and for posterity I recorded some new airchecks last year. I still have some misgivings, but overall I'm better off.

(478)

*Purchased airtime on a radio station, usually as weekend programming filler, often a thinly veiled informercial.

Mama Said There'd Be Weeks Like This...

Hi everyone,

As you've already noticed, my blog entry is quite late this week. In fact, this is the latest I've ever posted my weekly entry. In my defense, it has been a week of overscheduling and unexpected obstacles. On top of temping 40 hours a week, I've been taking the long train ride to Chicago several times to rehearse with my improv classmates. I gave myself just enough time to write something... and than a Category 1 tornado hit Downers Grove on Tuesday night and my neighborhood was without power for over 24 hours. I even had a specific topic in mind, one that required a bit of research, but it can wait a few weeks. I was very tempted to the call this week a wash and sit it out --the first time I would've done so in 5 1/2 years-- but at heart I didn't want to let you all down. I had to type out something.

Between improv and data entry, I've also been working out. In late April I bought a gym membership, and once or twice a week I meet with a trainer. I'd been looking to lose some weight, and though I've been careful about meal portions and my sugar intake, progress had stalled. You see, I was pretty skinny in high school --about 5'8" and 130 lbs.-- but I had a high metabolism and paid minimal attention to dietary needs. Nearly five years later, I was a half-inch taller and 45 pounds heavier. That's not obese by any means, but I was increasingly lethargic and feeling more self-conscious. Rather than buy a new wardrobe to accommodate my weight gain, I made a series of changes to my diet: no large extra value meals (smalls and mediums were my breaking point), more water, and less snacking. By late 2008 I was down to 165 pounds, and that's where I hovered around until two months ago. Now I'm just over 155, which was my approximate weight in mid-2005. Once I clear that hurdle, the question now is how I'll keep that weight off in the long run.

One last thing: upon hearing of the passing of Clarence Clemons, I took a breather from my "Wonderful Year" research and listened to Greetings From Asbury Park, The Wild, The Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle, and Born To Run back-to-back-to-back. I arrived at two conclusions that had been lodged somewhere in my subconscious for years. First of all, Clarence was the heart of the E Street Band; it makes perfect sense that he was the first official member of Bruce's backing band (nearly 43 years!) and The Boss' unofficial lieutanant. Secondly, he was one helluva saxophonist. I sincerely regret that I never got to see the E Street Band play live when I had the opportunity, if only to see and hear Clemons' immaculate solo on "Jungleland." You will be dearly missed, Big Man.

Next week: the year in music, 2006.

My Promotion Commotion

April 30th marked one year of unemployment (or underemployment, depending on how you look at it) for yours truly. It has been a year of perpetual struggle, of peaks and valleys, and above all pondering the direction of my life and whether I've made the right career choice. Typically when I write my blog, I try to shy away from my personal problems. I focus upon current events, sports, and music not only as a pleasant distraction, but also to keep my skills sharp. It was my intent to share my story after I had found steady employment again, but my anxiety and frustration could no longer let me suppress my viewpoint for much longer.

It all started in mid-January, 2010. I had been the traffic assistant at the station for nearly two years, and as the result of budget cuts, I had also been the receptionist for about 14 months. I was initially hired to be part-time, five hours a day, 25 hours a week. It was on this average January weekday that my boss and our business manager/HR director sat me down to explain that my position was finally being expanded to full-time. However, because the company was an equal-opportunity employer, I had to reapply for my own job. A job listing was posted on a prominent industry web site for anyone to apply.

When I was first hired by Salem in May 2008, I sighed with relief. Upon graduating from college, I had submitted my resume and audio samples (both DJ airchecks and production) to nearly forty radio clusters --few stations are by themselves nowadays, it all depends on who owns them-- and they were only my second interview. After two wonderfully informative sit-downs, I was hired. Though traffic wasn't my first choice and my prior credentials were minimal, I was glad to be back in the radio industry. My first two weeks at the office were predominately spent training; though I felt like got off to a slow start, by the first month I had found my rhythm and developed a great rapport with my direct superior, the traffic manager. Every day was a new challenge, and even though it was tricky meeting daily deadlines I always made a conscious effort. The workload was heavy, but manageable. I was convinced that I had a future with this company... or so I thought.

In my first six months there was a significant regime change in our branch. The HR director that was partially responsible for bringing me aboard retired on account of her near-crippling arthritis. Her chosen replacement was for all intents and purposes her complete opposite; where the previous director was a self-deprecating mother figure, the new one was a deadly serious, business-oriented pragmatist. On top of that, where I was on friendly terms with HR director #1, her replacement made absolutely no attempt to get acquainted with anyone besides her boss and the other station management. Worse yet, director #2 had repeatedly called me out for mistakes at the front desk that were relatively minor and easily rectified. With time, it became quite clear that she didn't particularly like me, and that I would have to make an exorbitant effort to save my job.

As requested, I e-mailed my updated resume and references to the HR director, and we arranged to have my interview on the morning of Monday, February 8th. I spent the night before mentally preparing myself for the sit-down, partially out of determination but also out of shear nerve. As the sitting traffic assistant/receptionist, I was the first of six or seven candidates to walk into the conference room. Human resources asked the questions and my boss sat silently, taking notes. The interview itself went okay; though I felt like I was stumped by a question or two, I felt confident regardless. After the interview, the HR director stated that she'd make a decision within two weeks. And two weeks later... nothing happened.

In my extended time of waiting, I wasn't sure what to assume. Was the decision taking longer than usual, or was I a dead man walking? After the 14-day "deadline" had passed, I reluctantly started glancing at radio jobs online. To my astonishment, our HR director had reposted the same job opening from the month before. I came to work pretending as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and though I put on a brave face and a focused effort on my work, on the inside I was panicking. Even though I trusted my boss, I was too nervous to ask about the re-posting or the second round of interviews. Knowing of my duress, my co-workers would walk past the front desk and ask how I was doing; their moral support was fleeting, but noble in the attempt.

By late April, my worst fears were all but confirmed. Rumors were beginning to swirl around the office, and I gave my best non-answer to their prying questions. During the third and fourth cattle calls, the HR director conducted the conferences herself, without my boss' input. One candidate that walked in had garnered a second interview, a sit-in with the general manager that I'd never had. My boss would occasionally go into the HR director's office to vent, and one day during that week she was in the business manager's office for a longer period of time than usual. Glancing past the window, I could tell my boss was tearing up and that the HR director was being her usual hardheaded self.

On April 30th, I was asked to step into the HR office. As I sat next to the traffic director, I learned my fate: the search had come down to two candidates, the aforementioned ringer and myself, and they went with the new guy. Her words were polite, but her eyes had a certain resignation, a strangely gleeful glimmer. The director even tried to smirk, but my boss' repressed tears came from a more honest emotion. There was so much I wanted to say; I had an irresistible urge to call this cipher out for being secretive, elusive, and above all dishonest. Instead I clenched my teeth, cleaned out my desk, and tried to look professional and graceful in my departure.

In my HR director's eyes I was a milquetoast, possibly borderline incompetent, and her cold smile and sudden, abrupt attempt at compassion couldn't hide the fact that she had been gunning after me. Altogether, this HR director made me sit on my hands for 3 1/2 months, Was I fired, forced out, or replaced? I'd like to think I was a combination of the three. As I drove home, I was overwhelmed by a singular emptiness. Even though this was the first time I'd ever been sacked --an experience that everyone will eventually go through-- I still felt screwed over. Part of me is still convinced that human resources overrode any feedback that my boss would've had in this whole process, and that she'd further consolidated her power in the office. In short, I had no leverage, and all my energies were for naught.

In the meantime, I've been trying to give myself a clean slate, not out of willingness but because of necessity. Attempts to reconnect with former co-workers at Salem have been ignored or rebuffed. As such, I don't think anyone in my old office is aware of the existence of this blog. I've had text conversations with my ex-boss, but they've been short and stilted. I'd also found out through the grapevine that my position was redefined in that the receptionist reported to the HR director and not the traffic director. Apparently, he also assumed a different set of responsibilities, which meant my former boss was (is?) now doing the work of two people. Concurrently, I've been intermittently temping and substitute teaching, but mostly I've been ekeing out a living on unemployment benefits.

I have written this blog entry for the sake of catharsis, and not to attack, vilify, or exact revenge. I was very tempted to call out the offending party by name, but that would be industry suicide. For the last 12 1/2 months, I've been penting up my rage and alienation to the extent that I had release my demons the only way I can. Counting high school, I had played the radio game for eleven years, and now I'm further away from my dream job than I've ever been. I've had one radio-related interview in the past year, but nothing came out of it. On one hand, I've been thinking outside the box and pooling my skills into a variety of other possibilities; on the other hand, I don't want to give up on a dream I've been building on for so long. Blind optimism is what keeps me going. Inexorably, I feel like a burden has been lifted off my back, and that I'm ready to clear whatever future hurdles come my way.