Which Button Do I Push?
It can be surprisingly hard to re-enter a fairly fast-paced radio program when you’ve been away for over two weeks. That’s half a month with your mind completely elsewhere and not at all in the studio. When I vacation, I vacate.
When I get on the bus down at Public Square, the driver closes the door, goes into reverse and hits the horn twice as a backing signal. At that point, there is nothing I can do about anything where I live or work; I am trapped in this 47-seat rolling instrument of butt torture for the next 2 ½ hours.
When I left the radio program in my replacement’s hands, I told her, “Everything went fine, and thank you.” She knew what I meant: “Don’t tell me anything that’s already happened.” I don’t want to know things I can’t do anything about.
Ever go into a store and have the clerk tell you, “Oh, we just sold the last one of those; if only you had come in half an hour earlier.” Or you ask around the office for boxes and hear, “Gee, we threw out a whole bunch of them just yesterday and I’m sure they were just what you wanted.”
When I vacate, I don’t want to know what happened, nor do I want to speculate about what may be going on back at the office. What good will that do? I am away, whether on a bus headed to New York City, on a cruise ship going up the coast, or wandering around some Canadian town. I’m away.
When I get on the bus down at Public Square, the driver closes the door, goes into reverse and hits the horn twice as a backing signal. At that point, there is nothing I can do about anything where I live or work; I am trapped in this 47-seat rolling instrument of butt torture for the next 2 ½ hours.
When I left the radio program in my replacement’s hands, I told her, “Everything went fine, and thank you.” She knew what I meant: “Don’t tell me anything that’s already happened.” I don’t want to know things I can’t do anything about.
Ever go into a store and have the clerk tell you, “Oh, we just sold the last one of those; if only you had come in half an hour earlier.” Or you ask around the office for boxes and hear, “Gee, we threw out a whole bunch of them just yesterday and I’m sure they were just what you wanted.”
When I vacate, I don’t want to know what happened, nor do I want to speculate about what may be going on back at the office. What good will that do? I am away, whether on a bus headed to New York City, on a cruise ship going up the coast, or wandering around some Canadian town. I’m away.
posted by Tom Carten at 10:22 PM
1 Comments:
Funny he mentions butt torture in the same post as he mentions his radio show.
anyways, better off not knowing what went on with the radio show while gone. Don't think he would've liked the Guess Who Slept With the King's Lion Mascot contest.
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