TALES OF THE SOUTHWEST: THE LAST PERSON ON MY "S" LIST

by Grant McGee

“Anger eats the vessel that holds it.”  That’s a great saying I picked up somewhere.  I kept it, I shared it, but sad to say for a long time I didn’t live it.  It’s one of those life lessons where I wore a “dunce” cap in the classroom for a while.

Radio is like any other business, there are good bosses and lousy bosses.  Some act like leaders taking their crew on a long voyage where the team will get it done, others act like they’re God’s gift to broadcasting and act the part.

I was able to adjust my head to most of the folks I ever worked for, perceive where they seemed to be in life, accept their goodness or their weirdness as part of the job.  There was the screaming boss in Virginia, but I came to realize the dude was just afraid of much in life, ditto for the “dot com” millionaire boss in Arizona.  There was the ex-marine manager, but he always let you know where he stood.  There have been many kinds of bosses in my life.

And then there was that guy in Texas.

Inspiration for writing this little tidbit came from unpacking my stuff after a move and stumbling across a treasure trove of office memos I had saved from this radio gig in The Lone Star State.  These memos were going to be the skeleton that of a story titled “Why I Left Radio Broadcasting.”

When I left Texas I was sure I was leaving broadcasting behind because of guys like Cliff, general manager of a station I’ll call “HOT TEX-99” in an unnamed Texas city.  I’ve changed this guy’s name to Cliff and those of other people on staff as well as declining to identify the city and station to protect the innocent…namely me.

My first interview with Cliff for the morning guy position at HOT TEX-99 made me feel like I wanted to work for his operation. I drove all the way from Roswell, New Mexico where I’d been having a grand time being a country DJ but the station had been sold and I had a weird vibe about the new owners.  If I landed this job I was headed into one of the top radio markets in the country.

“We’re like one big happy family,” said Cliff leaning back in his restaurant chair.  I had driven from eastern New Mexico one Saturday to meet Cliff, the general manager, for breakfast.  “One of my pet projects is the staff watches newspapers and the wire for me. I’m watching for stories that relate to where a galactic delegation from a confederation of star systems will arrive at the end of the century to free us from the tyranny of The New World Order and show us that true free enterprise is the only way to live in harmony.”

I can’t make this stuff up.

It was 1992 and I was still quite open minded so this “galactic delegation” didn’t sound too strange.
Had it been now I would’ve said, “Thanks for the breakfast, good luck in finding that morning guy.”
But I suppose I had life lessons to learn at this gig so I took it.

I was taken that Cliff continued talk painting HOT TEX-99 as a place where you’re friends with everyone on the staff, there’s laughing, joking, you give each other homemade Kahlua at Christmas, stuff like that.
I later discovered Cliff had a huge ego, seemed to have a personality disorder and may have been a sociopath. The Cliff who interviewed me was not the Cliff who ran HOT TEX-99.

It was also at HOT TEX-99 that I learned the difference between a micro-manager and a perfectionist.  Goals may be attained with a micro-managing supervisor, albeit with a bunch of stress.  A perfectionist boss’ goals are about impossible to attain.  Cliff was a perfectionist.

It wasn’t until I took the job and moved all my stuff that I realized that I made a serious life tactical error. I should’ve done more checking on HOT TEX-99 and Cliff, after bad experiences in life I always promise myself I would do such a thing but never do.  But I was excited about the new gig and believed what Cliff told me.

After my first show at HOT TEX-99 I bopped into Cliff’s office, anticipating on getting some feedback on the first day and shooting the breeze.

Cliff slowly raised his head and looked at me.

“What are you doing here?” he said coldly.

“Dropping in, seeing what you thought about the first show,” I said.

“One,” he said, holding his index finger inches from my face, “All non-management staff need an appointment to see me.  Two,” up came a second finger, “If I want to give you feedback about your show you’ll hear it through Greg.” Greg was the HOT TEX 99 program director.

I also learned I’d hear about station things via memos.

Cliff’s memos were constant, fast and furious.  I once took the time to average them out; One every seven hours, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The rate prompted Greg, while passing memos out, to occasionally say, “Just helped kill a rain forest again.”

Cliff’s memos were peppered with the marketing phraseology of the day: “Sell the sizzle,” “Perception is reality,” ad nauseam.

The following are actual excerpts from actual memos from actual Cliff…

“Questions and concerns have come up regarding an advertiser that we are airing called [name redacted] Advisors. They are offering loans to customers at very low interest rates. Numerous listeners have called in (hey, advertising does work!) and asked if this is a legitimate business. At this time it’s hard to determine, but so far it does look legit.”

Days later I would be at home and suddenly hear my voice during the local TV news. It turns out the local TV station was doing an investigative piece on “[name redacted] Advisors.”  Part of their story involved airing the commercial I voiced.  I walked into the living room and just stared at the TV screen.

Then there was the importance of marketing.

Another Cliff memo…
“Effective immediately, with all prizes given away to listeners that come to our studios, you WILL begin also giving them a complimentary HOT TEX-99 map of the city, a HOT TEX-99 bumper sticker, a HOT TEX-99 keychain, a HOT TEX-99 pack of matches, a HOT TEX-99 ballpoint pen, a HOT TEX-99 can coozy, a HOT TEX-99 emergency sewing kit as well as any other type of flyers or promotional items we may have on hand. This is all to go into a HOT TEX-99 bag. If you are found to not be following through on giving away all available items you will be terminated.”

And another memo on marketing…
“All air staff are to be spending more time on show prep, all shifts. You are to be tying-in local events and things that are “top of mind” with area residents and the radio station. For instance, tie in the city’s weather with our “99 Days of Country Summer.” Remember, SELL THE SIZZLE. GET EXCITED ON THE AIR. Tie the heat, the rain, the wind to the music. YOU WERE HIRED TO KNOW WHAT PEOPLE IN THE CITY ARE THINKING AND TALKING ABOUT.”

Then there was the memo titled “RE: Building, maintenance, housekeeping”…
“I feel it’s time to once again remind everyone our company policies on housekeeping and taking care of our building. 1. Trash: It is your responsibility to discard trash in the appropriate containers……
This went on and on, this particular memo could’ve been an employee handbook…

It continued…
“I have found food trash in the men’s and women’s restrooms. Employees have gotten really lax here. This will change immediately if you wish to have food and beverage in the building. I have overall been disappointed in the attitude of respect for our building. I constantly find handprints on the walls where I can’t see a reason for it, disgusting bathrooms, gross refrigerators, etc.

My absolute favourite of all of Cliff’s memos was this one:
“It has come to my attention that everyone has been parking in front of the building…”
That’s how this one began. I liked the intro because how could it NOT come to Cliff’s attention…it was a small operation, the staff of 12 all parked around one tiny building.  Anyone would see the situation every day.

Anyway, it went on…
“This is making it difficult for guests, listeners, clients, etc. to have easy access to the front door. All air staff is to park on the west side of the building. Our traffic director and I both will have preferred parking spaces in front of the building.”

It turns out that good ol’ Cliff, on a day when things were slow, drove up and down the main drag where our radio station was situated. Apparently with “perception is reality” on his mind, he thought our operation would look successful with his and the traffic director’s new sporty cars parked in front; never mind that we had a dilapidated country nightclub to our east and a strip joint to our west.

I encountered Cliff at a time in my life when I didn’t know how to deal directly with assholes. Not long ago, I drove back to that city and stood in front of the abandoned radio station building; grass growing up through the parking lot, signage broken, junk piled near the front door.

I thought of all the stress and angst that went on inside the place with Cliff as its nexus. I thought about the Colonel Sanders-esque engineer who was a good friend and knew how to put Cliff in his place because the engineer had the ear of the owner.

I saw that in action one morning when one of my audio machines failed.  I had "dead air" for about 3 seconds as I quickly scrambled to cover the silence. 

Moments later Cliff burst through the studio door pointing a finger at my face and yelling, “YOU JUST COST ME TEN THOUSAND LISTENERS.”  He spun around and left the room.  But hanging out with me just then was the engineer.  He looked at me.

“That’s bullcrap,” said the engineer. “Mistakes happen.  I’m going to go have a chat with that jerk.”  And he left the room.

After my show that morning I was walking down the hall when Cliff emerged from his office.  I thought for sure I was going to be called in with him.  Instead he walked up to me, looked me in the eye and said, “I overreacted about your dead air.  I’m sorry.”  Cliff turned and walked back in his office.  Moments later the engineer came around the corner and gave me a wink.

I spent 9 months at HOT TEX-99.  I left that Texas city and moved to Phoenix. I was quite sure I’d had enough of radio and guys like Cliff, but radio wasn’t through with me.  After a brief stint as a Phoenix car salesman I returned to broadcasting.

And Cliff?

I’m given to understand that not long after I moseyed off to The Valley of the Sun that that agency of Uncle Sam that collects taxes shut the operation down for non-payment of said taxes.
Cliff’s next gig was as a classic rock jock across town in that Texas city and then I hear he went off to Nevada to manage a shoe store.

For years I carried around a lot of anger about Cliff, things I wish I’d said, things I wish I’d done.  I never really ever had a long “S” list.  You know what an “S” list is…a “shit” list, usually populated by people you’ve encountered in life who REALLY pissed you off and the conflict was never resolved.  For many years Cliff was the last and only resident of mine.

Then not long ago I connected with a former HOT TEX-99 co-worker through the social media.  She shared her stories of working with Cliff.  Here in the future there are things Cliff instructed her to do that would have been grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit.  For instance, he once instructed her to forego her own personal plans to “go out” with a bigwig from the radio station’s headquarters. 

Somehow, hearing of her stories let the steam out of my long-held resentment.

Then I found Cliff through the social media.  When I did I leaned back in my chair with a strange smile on my face.  I leaned forward and sent him a message:  “Hey Cliff, Grant McGee here from your HOT TEX-99 days.  Just wanted to say thanks for giving me the opportunity to work there.  Too long to go into here but it was the right place to be at the right time.  Wishing you well on your journey of life.”

What was I going to do?  Rant?  Vent?  That’d would’ve made me seem like a nutjob, to hold such negative feelings for so long.

I hit send.

I never got a reply.

But my “S” list is empty.

                                                                                -30-