A Radio Interview…
I cannot recall which station, which program, or even which radio personality because I think my mind has subconsciously blocked out this information to protect me from the trauma. I do remember, however, that I was dressed to impress. A good friend had recently advised me that, even though this was radio, and I was in my office where no one would see me, my attitude would come across better through the airwaves if I took the time to shower, re-caffeinate and make myself presentable before going on the air.
Hair done? Check. Make-up? Check. Clothes ironed? Check. I was primped and primed for this inspirational interview. This was the largest audience I’d had an opportunity to share my work with and I was going to knock their socks off with my wit and wisdom!
I began preparations. I phoned my mother in New York, who had a habit of calling me during that time of day, to inform her that I would be live on the radio and request that she please withhold her call until later, unless of course in the event of an extreme emergency. I phoned my daughter, who was driving somewhere with her sister and informed her I was going to be live on the radio and not to call unless her car was on fire.
Well, the call came from the station. I answered as spritely and yet intelligently as I could: “Good Morning Z _ _ _!!” I said with an enthusiasm that mimicked Robin Williams’ famous “Goooooooooood Morning Vietnam!!!” exclamation. I made it a point to include in my salutation whatever were the call letters for the station. The gentleman began the interview by complimenting my writing and by asking the usual ice-breaking question, “What inspired you to write The Dash and leave the corporate world?” Unusually calm, I launched into a rehearsed, detailed explanation behind writing The Dash, how my grandmother’s maiden name was Barden and how a bard is a lyric poet thereby cementing my destiny as far as I was concerned, etc., etc.
As I was rattling on about my favorite writer…me, there was an unmistakable, audible BEEEEEP. I ignored it, as if by a fluke, this would be the first time someone called and only let the phone ring once before deciding to hang up. I continued rambling hoping somehow my nervous ranting would conceal the conspicuous “pause” undoubtedly created on the other end of the phone line by the incoming call.
But suddenly, a fear engulfed my body. I had instructed both my mother and my daughter to call only in the event of an extreme emergency. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that either my elderly mother had fallen and couldn’t get up or my daughters were in the middle of Interstate 75 with the car on fire! I just knew I had to take the call.
“Excuse me…but I have to take a call,” I politely stated. “WHAT?” the radio personality responded, as if in disbelief. “Uhm…I have to take a call. I believe it’s an emergency.” “Oh, well, I guess we’ll just wait for you then?” Such sarcasm, I didn’t enjoy. My initial response was to ask: “Are you a child of someone or the parent of others?” “Do you understand the vital impact of an efficient and immediate response to an emergency??!!!” However, I realized I simply didn’t have time to bestow my values onto this individual…maybe another time. Right now I had an emergency on my hands and it was waiting for my response on the other line!
I clicked over to take the call. “Hello,” I answered anxiously. “Hello,” my mother responded…soooo…how did your interview go?” Perturbed, but patiently, I answered: “Mother…sweetheart…dear — I asked you not to call, remember? I’ll call you back later.” I quickly clicked back to the hosts of the show.
They were still there! I apologized profusely. Now…where were we? I picked up right where I left off as if I’d been dribbling a basketball and never missed a beat. The conversation smoothly switched back from their stories to mine. About five minutes later…I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. BEEEEEP! No, please tell me no. Could I afford to ignore this call, given my loving mother’s previous ruse? But my worried mind began to drift to the certainty of the burning flames from the fuel spewing from the car and my daughters on the roadside in distress. I HAD to take the call.
This time, I didn’t even excuse myself as the host was in the middle of a long, detailed story of his own. Maybe the absence of my “uh-huh” and “oh, yes” responses wouldn’t be noticed.
“Hello?” I answered with fear and anticipation this time. “Hi, Mom!” my daughter responded with innocence and eagerness — “Original or extra crispy?”
Needless to say, I was never invited back on that radio station and have since learned how to block caller ID!
