Whatever that thing is that you do just for fun, see if there isn’t something within that, or around that, that could actually be a job. If you fall anywhere near it, you’re still going to have fun.
—SCOTT, program director, Dave FM
5:30 A.M. I rolled out of bed. Still half-asleep, I tossed on my Dave FM T-shirt and headed to the hotel lobby to wait for my ride. Shortly afterward, a black SUV with a large Dave FM logo on the side pulled up. I picked myself up off the never-been-so-comfortable lobby couch and hopped into the car.
When we arrived at the radio station, I was directed into the studio, handed a set of headphones, and told to have a seat. We were live on the air.
It’s times like these when I wished I drank coffee.
I was barely coherent when the morning host, Jeff, probably working on his third cup, turned to me and said, “We’re thrilled to introduce our most recent part-time employee, Sean Aiken. And he is the One-Week Job man. How you doing, buddy?”
How is it possible to have that much energy so early in the morning? I thought. I rubbed my eyes and gave an exaggerated tired look in an attempt to be funny. The dead air reminded me that facial expressions don’t translate over radio. “Well, Jeff, I’m not used to waking up this early, but I’m doing pretty good and I’m happy to be here.”
I’m told the key to radio is to try and make it as conversational as possible. To pretend you’re talking to one listener and that’s it. It should sound like a natural conversation between me and Jeff, and the listener is an unseen, silent person in the room. Even though there are many listeners, you don’t want to address them as a group, or refer to them as “you guys” or “everyone listening.” This helps the listener feel part of the conversation and makes it a more personal experience.
As the morning progressed, I got more comfortable. It felt as if we were a group of friends having a good time chatting about stuff.
“So, my softball team lost nine–nothing on the weekend,” said Jeff.
“Ouch,” said Gayle, the morning co-host.
“How’s that even possible?” I piped in.
“I don’t know,” said Jeff. “Well, actually I do know. When you start cracking the ‘soda pops’ before you’re even out of the first inning, chances are you’re gonna have a rough go at it.”
“That’ll do it,” said Gayle.
“Yep. Although I must say, we did have a good time,” said Jeff.
It was weird to think how many people were out there listening, counting on us to drag them out of bed with a smile on their face.
Radio DJs always have something to say. They can talk about the most boring subject, but with their captivating voices and perfectly timed tonal variations, they somehow manage to make it sound interesting. Kind of like infomercials, I suppose. Growing up, I could watch those things for hours; then I’d run over to my mom to convince her that whatever was being pitched was something we absolutely had to have. I still hope to purchase that food dehydrater one day.
Time is extremely important in radio. The production, complete with commercials, traffic updates, weather reports, and scheduled talk breaks, must be organized right down to the second to avoid dead air. Five seconds of dead air is like ten seconds of microwave time. Not good. Especially to the listener stuck in rush-hour traffic with limited patience who’s all too eager to hastily change the frequency. A majority of the audience can be lost in just a few seconds.
Before my week at Dave FM, I thought that radio DJs had a pretty comfy gig. Show up five minutes before they’re on the air, talk about random stuff, answer a few phone calls, give out some swag, play some music, and call it a day. I was surprised to learn how much planning is involved. Each DJ that I worked with showed up at least one hour before the shift started. They went over the script for the day, got caught up on current events, and mapped out what they were going to talk about at each scheduled talk break.
That morning, the white chalkboard that outlined the topics of conversation read: Sean, Baseball, Britney Spears, Joke of Day.
“I find you can only prepare to a certain point,” said morning co-host Gayle after we’d wrapped up. “When we come in here in the morning, we have to hit the ground running. We’re not just sitting here listening to music. It’s crazy busy for those hours in the morning. You have to eat, talk, prepare stuff, and take calls all at the same time.”
The next day I was the co-host of Big Afternoon Radio Show with Carlos. We were live on location at a local golf course. Once every week Carlos took chosen listeners out for a round of golf in the morning, then he did his show outside the clubhouse in the afternoon. The company sponsor of the event was there with an alligator mascot costume. Being the new guy, I had the job of getting suited up, ripping around the course in a golf cart, handing out DAVE FM stickers, and making sure all the golfers were having a good time.
Back at the clubhouse, Ian brought out the camera and I asked Carlos how he’d gotten into radio.
“When I was a little kid, I didn’t like being at home in the dark, it scared me, so my dad got me this clock radio. And the idea of someone being there and entertaining you just struck me from the time I was about five years old.
“I got my first job at a radio station in Toronto handing out condoms. It wasn’t the most glamorous job, but I did everything I could. Six months later, I was on the air doing a number of jobs: filling in on mornings, filling in on afternoons. And eventually I got a full-time show.”
“Could you see yourself doing anything else?” I asked.
“I can’t imagine doing something I didn’t love, because that’s what I do every day. Some days I have to stop and ask myself, ‘Is this real?’ They pay me to go out and golf with listeners and then talk for five hours a day. I mean, it’s crazy to think that someone actually pays me to do this.” He glanced toward the golf course and smiled.
“The most important message I take away from what you’re doing is to be proactive about figuring out what you want to do,” he said. “If you don’t know what to do, well, don’t just sit around and wonder. Do something.”
If he had only known me six months earlier. After graduating, I was so concerned with making the right choice that it prevented me from making any choice at all. I realize now that I’ve learned the most about myself by doing stuff—traveling, taking courses, joining clubs, volunteering. Anything that challenged me, caused me to step outside of my comfort zone, and offered a situation where I could learn something new.
“Even if you take a job at first that might not be the right fit, it’s still a step in the right direction,” continued Carlos. “Just like any failed relationship—you learn about what you liked and what you didn’t. In the end, all of it helps you figure out what’s going to make you happy and where you’ll be most successful.”
It was obvious that the employees at Dave FM valued a positive work environment. I noticed that even though they worked extremely hard, they never sacrificed their sense of play. They had fun and didn’t take themselves too seriously.
For Scott, Dave FM’s program director, this was one of the reasons he chose the profession. “I wanted to have a fun job,” he said. “I thought radio was pretty cool, and the idea of introducing records and music on the air sounded like fun.”
“Is it your passion?” I asked.
“My passion is the music,” he said. “If you ask most people in radio where they started out, we’re all kind of failed musicians really. Truthfully, we’d rather be the people making the music, but to be involved in music in some way—that’s where the passion lies.”
Even though Scott was not doing what he originally wanted to be doing, he loved his job. He worked in the industry, dealt with music people, and was still able to cultivate his passion for music.
I’ve been told that my generation has a sense of entitlement different from previous generations. Perhaps there’s some truth to it, that we feel we deserve to be the CEO, the professional athlete, the acclaimed director, or the big rock star. That choosing anything else would be considered “settling.” And so we seek celebrated titles with the assumption that happiness must be an inherent benefit in the job description. In reality, maybe we’d be just as happy being the person who rallies the extras on the Hollywood set, primes the stadium for a big game, or hands the rock star his guitar.