Just like the The Who said: "Going mobile!"

I'm Back...

Big deal.

I've been working as a government worker for almost an entire year. The title of this blog continues to tickle my brain and bruise my cerebelum during times of idleness and despair at my desk.

Food Stamps and Medi-Cal.

A lot of people in need these days.

Four Weeks In

Deep into training now. Getting used to the breaks. Like clockwork 10:00am, 12:00pm lunch, 3:00pm. Then 5:00pm end of day. It's been nearly two weeks since my last post. I hesitate to get into a lot of detail on this public space. Minding my Ps and & Qs, you see.

A Cold, A Heatwave and A New Beginning

I've been hesitant to update this blog for several reasons:

A) I've been very busy. What with the 8AM to 5PM every weekday, getting the kids to daycare (Doreen spearheaded getting good daycare for the kids), getting food at the store, cooking it. And, B) A wonderful new head-cold.

My first three weeks into this job exposed me to all different kinds of viruses and bacterium...

Oh and people, too.

The first week was "job shadowing". This had mixed results. In some cases, it was very educational. One fellow had been on the job for 37 years! Holy crap! All I could say to him was, "Wow." He was very calm and sedate, humorous in a quiet way, and somewhat detached. I felt like a dumb sea-bird circling a surfaced blue whale. The blue whale had surfaced from the ocean of bureaucracy to share knowledge with the sea-bird who can't fly too far from shore. When the job shadowing was done, the blue whale submersed back into the ocean, leaving the sea-bird find its way back to shore.

Not all the workers I shadowed in my first week were blue whales. Some were slow-crawling sand-turtles. Others were like those Galapagos lizards that sun themselves on the rocks for hours to get their body temperature up, then leap into the sea to feed. Most were kind and welcoming. Just a few were indifferent, bordering on rude (like a reptile: emotionless and cold-blooded). One in particular was resentful. I don't have an animal metaphor for this one.

I was trying to be polite: "Whatever you can show me would be great. If you are too busy, I understand. I don't want to be a bother or interfere--"

"WELL, YOU ARE!"

"I'm not choosing to be here--"

"WELL, YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO TAKE THE JOB."

Shocked silence.

"THERE'S A LOT TO IT, YOU KNOW."

I was truly stunned by this animosity.

Hyena. That's the animal metaphor. The hyena is an animal that waits for other stronger, higher-on-the-food-chain animals to hunt their pray. The hyena then gathers its pack-mates to scare away the animal-hunter so that they can feed. I don't know if this particular worker was aware of my radio work and thinks I have ego in abundance. This worker perhaps was assuming something about me. It was very disturbing.

But most of these county workers were friendly and welcoming. The one illustrated above was the exception. This wrapped up a week of mostly good job-shadowing. Then onto two weeks of training. That's for the next entry.

It's supposed to be 110 degrees today, 111 tomorrow, then cool down a couple of degrees for the weekend, but stay in triple digits into early next week. My vehicle has no air-conditioning.

I Passed! Woo Hoo Let's Party!!!

So, I passed the drug and alcohol test and physical. For those of you familiar with the "turn and cough" part of the exam, you know about the abject humiliation that is the gonad-feel from your local physician. I haven't been able to find out what exactly they're testing with that "turn and cough", but if I do, I'll let you know.


Last Tuesday I went to the County orientation meeting. Me and four other future county employees. They showed a 40-minute video and had us fill out all the insurance, union options and other items. The stack of fill-out forms was--no kidding--nearly half a foot thick.


It's ironic, but I'll be dealing with bureaucratic piles of paperwork and regulations for this job.

Drug Test

Got a call this week... "Are you still available for this job? Do you still want it?"

It's been four months since I applied, and it looks like they want me. Now it's off to fill out paperwork and take a drug test. I still can't believe it, but it looks like I'll be working in the bowels of bureaucracy.

No, I won't be working for the IRS. I'll be a case worker in the social services department, helping people get food and money to support their families. People who are down and out.

I've been getting a lot of emotional support from my family for getting this job: "Congratulations!"

But I don't know how I feel about it yet. It's a definite paradigm shift. How does one go from radio to working for the welfare office? I've been telling people, "It's a good thing they hired me: Instead of having to access their services, I'm just going to go work for them."

I've tried this before, you know. Trying to do something else other than radio. The difference here, is that this whole process of applying for the job has carried on such a long time. And also, there is training; at least two months of intensive training. So many jobs that I've had outside of broadcasting left me feeling either I was in over my head, or that I would lose it at any moment. I feel like I'm joining humanity, being given this one last chance to prove myself with a real job.

I need the stability. Maybe my mental acuity will return.

So it's off to the drug test on Monday. And we'll see.

Midway On Our Life's Journey...

Midway on our life's journey, I found myself
In dark woods, the right road lost.
-Canto I, 1-2

From Dante's Inferno, translated by Robert Pinsky

The sionara to Bob Thomas was less a eulogy than a performance.

Dave Tappan emceed the event Saturday. Dave said in the introductory remarks that Bob would have wanted people attending his funeral to be laughing and having a good time. I think that was accomplished. A lot of funny Bob Stories were told. Dave introduced each speaker. After he said some things (talked about Bob never removing his socks, even when he got a new pair of sandals from his brother), he introduced Jenny Jones (now with KGO in San Francisco) who sang Green Day's "Time of Your Life", then Billy Pilgrim, then Gary Moore (who threw out the story of Bob's dentures flying out of his mouth during a recording session--by the way my one Bob story was going to be about his dentures that he started using just days into beginning the morning show at Q97; at the time I was the overnight guy and it was the funniest thing I've heard on the radio--nearly drove off the road when he tried to read "Shasta County Sheriff's Department"...Now, was this intentional, or just Bob?), then Cindy Shaw, then Chellie (who replaced me and others at the recent shake-up... but I guess she let Bob live with her and her husband for the better part of a year and was ready to donate a kidney [!], but Bob--as she said, tearfully--didn't want to put her health at risk), then Bob's brother from Nebraska (who said that he wasn't very good at public speaking, "because I'm not a radio guy. I worked 35 years as a police officer. Bob thought that was a big deal, but I was always really proud of Bob... I never told him I loved him, but I did...), and a wrap up by Dave. There was a short powerpoint presentation of two-second dissolves of pictures from birth, childhood, B94, Q97, with Van Morrison's "Into The Mystic". Good song choice, though it's one of those things that you say to yourself, "I could have done better". It was a presentation made by local filmmaker Jake Daniels. This is a guy who makes a living making films... films about homicidal maniacs that are bloody ridiculous. He gets paid to make films.

I take a moment now to sigh, inwardly.

Dave said in his closing comments that Bob was "very good at what he did. He was a great DJ".

Now, as I leave this industry behind, two of the big voices in this area have died. I'm glad I never did either of these gentleman any harm. I was never their supervisor or manager that had to fire them. Some of the people who attended the funerals for Jerry McGee and Bob Thomas were among the crappy people that have small souls. They can talk the talk, but how do they feel inside? From what I understand Bob was completely broke for the better part of a year, had just gotten on his feet for a few weeks, then died. Jerry had one thing keeping him going. That one thing was the daily ritual of going to the radio station, doing his daily duties. How does it feel to be the person that fired Jerry McGee? He was dead within six months of losing work.

I take a moment to sigh inwardly, again.

I'll probably find out this week the results of this interminably long process of becoming Kafka; my transformation into a governmental worker bee. Even if they do hire me, I'll still have a long way to go with my transformation. My metamorphosis, if you will. Radio will always be in my blood, though. I started pushing buttons (board-opping, as we say in da bidness) when I was 13. That's a long time. Once it gets in you, they say, you can never get it out: The desire to do radio akin to an incurable virus. Right now, I don't have any desire to go back. That may change... but attending Bob's memorial service shifts my focus. Radio has never been my entire being, it's just what I do. And now with a family, children and mid-way through life's journey, I may have left it behind for good.