The handwriting’s on the wall.

Or the voice.

It’s coming.

Sure as a doctor’s visit you may dread. Sure as the Thanksgiving feast you anticipate. Sure as the rain will fall tomorrow someplace in the world or the sun shine.

It’s coming. Can’t be stopped. The period at the end of this story. The closing of this chapter. The turning of the page.

It’s coming. I know that it is by the voice message this morning. From my boss, in his gentle, even, low-key tone. Nothing in the voice or content — a simple request for a callback — alerts to what is coming.

But I know. The end is here. I saw the ad for my job on craigslist three days ago.

How do I feel?  Isn’t that the question we normally ask ourselves or another   at the loss of a job or income?


This was a dream job. I worked hard, persistently and passionately, for a year for a foot in the door.

For the first year, year-and-a-half, I was like a pregnant lady. Glowing. Just to be there. Doing something I love. For a workplace I love/d. {part of me still does, always will.} For a community I love

Then it went south. The backstory: long and complicated. Reader’s Digest version: a coworker turned abusive toward me, singularly. With the need to stay silent; to inform the boss would cost me my job. Coworker’s seniority and skills outranked me.

And he was / is untouchable. The made man in the mob.

Even if management did believe the accounts of abuse … even if he did cop up to them instead of deny … they’d still keep him and let me go. He wears that aura of Untouchable well.

In fact, he’s a big bully. Perpetually saddled in his high horse. Good at his job most of the time. Long invested in the station and they in him.

At 2 years against his around 5, I can’t compete. Or survive the cut to dispel our “personal differences.”

And then there’s Stacy. Not her real name. The newest employee who arrived, coincidentally, at the same time stuff nosedived with the kingpin.

Those two buddied up as workmates. Two peas in the pod.

Again, more secrets. What the boss doesn’t know of is Stacy’s assault of me. It was verbal, right after she’d started there. Outside away from everyone’s ears but mine. It was terrible. Reportable.

But I held back. One, I didn’t think my boss would believe me. I saw how everyone in the office, including him, fawned over her. The Sycophantic Schmoozing Cunt. A phony self-serving cunt bitch who has everyone fooled. Except me.

Two-faced “always smiling always cheerful” bitch armed with a knife for the back of any one, primarily female, who got in her way in her climb to success.

And if I told anyone who she REALLY is, they’d laugh in my face, call me nuts, rally around her. I’d be the outcast in their circle of Lies and Facades.

Not a bad place to be, mind you, but not exactly conducive to harmonious work relationships either.

Her arrival altered the entire dynamic of the workplace. (We’re a small staff of a dozen so doesn’t take much.)

The Bully wanted me gone. The Cunt too.

And my boss hadn’t a clue! All he saw was “personality conflicts.”

If only … if only it had been so simple.

The abuse came in different forms, mostly from the made man. None of that matters now.

Well, that’s a lie. It does matter. It’s what triggered the landslide that I rode to the Exit. If not by my boss’s action, my own initiative.

The dream job turned into a nightmare. With no end in sight: save my employment.

My boss’s call this morning tells me Time’s Up. You’re being replaced by someone who can work with S. the kingpin.

I’m ready to let it go.

Perhaps I already have. I dunno. This job has been a part of my life — a significant part — for more than two years. A veritable lifetime for me!

Don’t know what it’s like NOT to go to the radio station every day of the week seven days a week, for an hour here, 6 hours there, 8 hours here.

What I don’t know is what it’s like to have both antagonists (bully and cunt) out of my life. To be free of their bullshit. His booming hostility and nuclear glares through the glass of the station booths that could melt butter in a second. Her manipulative bitch ways.


What I don’t know is: What will take the place of the radio station job. From perspective of both career and income.

I didn’t call my boss back. Not because of fear. I know what’s coming.

Instead, I’m going to stop by. Do this in person. My dream job deserves that.

Just two things left to do.

One, learn the final departure day.

Two, whether the bully, long involved in this conflict, will be staying. I assume so but there’s a small chance the station will cut their losses with him too.

Three, rewrite a draft letter to the boss of the incidences and colleague’s truly bad behavior that crossed both professional and personal lines and show disrespect to me as well as the station.

I can tell the story now that I’m leaving. Because whereas before I had something to lose — my job — now I’ve nothing to lose. And only one thing to gain.

Correction: Two.

  • The freedom to tell the truth
  • The opportunity to redream a  better dream job.

What better time than during a Mercury retrograde! The time of REs: rethink … redo … reconsider … review.

I’m REady to go. To let go. To be free and in gratitude for what was given to me: a job I loved for a good while. At a radio station I love/d.

Thank you thank you thank you.


First Rule of Radio: Zip the *$#&@_$?!

Everyone remembers his or her first time behind a radio microphone, I reckon.

And everyone remembers the first time an expletive makes it onto the airwaves.

But I leap ahead.

My first time on the air almost a week ago wasn’t really my first. Just my first in some 35 years, when I interned as part of my journalism education at the J-School in Columbia, MO*.

*nation’s best!

Even back then, though a deer in the (radio) woods, I wasn’t that proverbial creature frozen in the headlights.

Apart from the initial uneasiness of “Oh my god, the town / city / county / state / world {fill in the blank} can hear me! What if I flub it?! Stutter?! Stumble? Sound stupid?!” I didn’t feel freaked out or out of place behind the mike.*

*I’m rollin’ with “mike” despite AP’s revision to “mic.”

No doubt it’s partly attributable to my ease speaking in front of groups — long as I have some grasp or command of my subject. Otherwise, dead brain air or sounding stupid, not my thang. I just don’t share that widespread fear of speaking in public — though I’m certain my mother, among others, wished I did!

That radio gig was decades ago in college and this is now, my new position as board operator at the radio station. On Saturday nights for now and it’ll grow as I grow into it. It rocks that I get to come on air at the top of every hour and announce the legally-required station ID!

Be they 7 or 8 or 10 or 20, those live seconds ain’t as easy as they sound! It’s all about developing timing … pacing … a rhythm gained only by doing. Let me repeat: Only by doing.

Because until you’ve watched a radio digital clock tick off the time down to the 10th of a second, you’ve no idea how quickly or slowly you speak.

And when your job is to ensure that complete sentences — be they yours or another’s — get on air before the station breaks or the news flares live, you …

… well, you just might get frazzled or freaked out enough to let fly a “shit!” … and discover you’re still live.

That’s what happened on my first shift at the mike. I was in the midst of airing the station ID. Then boom! Suddenly the national news feed fired at the top of the hour.

And somewhere’s in that split second between, I let out a “shit!” Fortunately it was subdued rather than shouted. And that may well be a first for me. Kidding! {?) Indication from the fellow / trainer at my side is that it didn’t make it on air. Still it was close. Too damn close for comfort.

Rule No. 1 of Radio, I told him: Learn to watch my mouth.

All the more imperative since I’ve got a bit of a trucker’s.

If I can embody that rule, all the rest in radio’s a piece o’ cake. A *$*(%_^ yummy and glorious piece o’ cake!

Wow! Wow again! And again! And again! …

I am joyful!! My head’s still spinning, in fact!

I’ve been offered a job at the radio station! It’s a dream job! I’ve been trying to get in for a year! (And after the debacle there a year ago; there’s a story there, don’t need to retell.)

I am in! Got my foot in the door! It’s one 5-hour shift for now. Whatever he offered, the answer’s YES! One shift, 10 shifts, any day, morning or night, the answer’s YES!

Starting tomorrow, I’ll be trained in radio board operation and on air. I did both in Journalism School (University of Missouri, Columbia, best in the country) as part of the education. That was a looong time ago. Before digital. Wow have things have changed — a lot!

I’ll be running the board and announcing. I’ve always been comfortable talking in front of groups and behind a microphone — long as I know what I’m talking about. I favor intelligent commentary over bumbling drivel, that is for certain!

This time tomorrow my training with a coworker begins! I can hardly believe it! Then Saturday’s my first solo shift. Can hardly believe that either!

Boom boom! Just like that. My life, vastly improved. My work life, doubly vastly improved! I’m sure using a lotta exclamation marks! Rightly so. 🙂 🙂 🙂

When I was in J-School back in Missouri, I majored in broadcasting. I ended up in print for this that and the other reasons. Wasn’t my goal or ambition though because I’m a writer who loves words, I’m ain’t complaining.

Radio, though … all these decades, I’ve had a hankering to go back into it. It’s not easy. Very competitive, a limited number of stations, the disadvantage of lacking radio skills or experience outside university.

I loooove radio and I’m a talk-show junkie. Conservative talk shows. The ones broadcast by my now new employer!

I’m bustin’ in a quiet way. I feel such gratitude. Joy and gratitude. And humbled. Humbled by the exceptionally hard road I’ve traveled this past year (as well as in general around work/career) that brings me to this today. August 5, 2014.

Persistence paid off. Usually it doesn’t. This time it did. I never gave up and I was not going to give up. My heart wanted and wants this!

I’m in & I’m livin’ the dream!

There aren’t fonts/letters big enough on a computer screen so you’ll have to imagine it, global-sized — yo, bigger! — letters in vibrant colors splashed across a stunningly clear blue sky:

W O W !!!

(monsoon) rain and shine, it was a good day.

So as the sun’s sunk well below the horizon, all in all it was a good day. Even a thunderous day perhaps.

The spells of monsoon rains, ferocious thunder and electrifying lighting that triggered power outages around town, as partly evidenced by the blinking numbers on my clock radio, interspersed with stretches of sunshine and bright blue skies were dramatic and perfectly welcomed on this my day off.

I didn’t have to try to work in the torrential showers. Didn’t have to push a heavy cart loaded with housekeeping supplies, the vacuum cleaner and the large wastebasket along the outdoor corridor from room to room with wind-driven heavy monsoon sheets of rain pelting supplies and me.

No. What I GOT to do was enjoy a leisurely meal, coffees and computer time in the cozy and dry comforts of the Wildflower Bread Co. cafe/restaurant.

And what I got to enjoy, just before the skies unleashed their furious showers, was a meeting with the station manager at the radio station. Wasn’t an interview as much as a reunion since our paths have crossed several times in the last year.

Whether the (PT foot-in-the-door) job will come my way will be known in a few days. Until then, I shall continue doing as I’ve been doing: taking care of myself, mindfully tending to my health and its unique needs in this course of recovery, eating well, sleeping best I can and staying positive in thought.

Whatever the offer looks like should it come my way, the answer is YES! He (the station manager) knows it and I know it. It’s out there in the earth’s wavelengths and beyond, that life-affirming YES!

It’s not that I’m wholly and blissfully calm as I patiently await the process and outcome for this job opening. I’m no Zen master, not in this lifetime anyways. If I overthink it, I’d drive myself nuts with anxiety, worry, fretting. And I don’t want that.

I WANT to stay calm as I await this potentially life-changing, and work-changing, turn. I want to trust that the best that I could do — and that could be done — have occurred. Trust that there’s nothing that could be improved upon. And now this time waiting for the first bloom in the garden tended to meticulously by moi requires but patience. And positive thought. Nothing more and nothing else at this time.

There’s a certain peace in that …

{Was a good day, this day of 777 … that is, in numerology, a 7 day (25th = 2+5=7) in a 7 month (July) in a 7 personal year. 777: jackpot!}

‘night now.