This is a true story:
I was just finishing my weekend shift on a little one horse AM in Eastern WA when the next program, a "radio classifieds" was ready to start.
Usually, the host (who was also the weekday newsman) would have been already in the station at least a half hour earlier, consumed a few cups of coffee and by airtime, he was good to go. And he wasn't so bad...sober. He usually was, but on those weekend evenings, he could be a real pain-he actually got us kicked out of a bar once and I myself was barely sober enough to drive him home. But he was usually up bright and early Saturday morning and rarely (visibly) hungover. He was good and a good friend of the PD, so I bit my tongue (bloody) and put up with it.
Only on this particular morning, he was nowhere to be seen. No phone call saying "I'm going to be late" or "Somebody in my family just died" or even "F--- THIS STATION, I QUIT!" (Even that would have been better than nothing.)
Well, coming up to 15 minutes before the hour and sweating nuclear missiles, I called the PD at home.
Answering machine.
I called him again. left an urgent message. Still nothing.
I guzzled another cup of coffee and decided to grab this particular bull by the horns and do the classifieds show myself. It was a one hour show and I could fill it with second hand bargains, betwixt the few local retail sponsors (including a few for auction houses and second hand store chains like Value Village-how ironic) and PSAs. I even read the local newscast after the AP news. I ran the whole show myself. No board-ops, no producers, no frills, this was HARDCORE radio. For 60 minutes, I was dealing in everything from baby cribs, which I knew next to nothing about at the time, only asking "What it's made of?...And what kind of mattress does it have?" As my wife (many years later) having our first born commented "That was smart of you! You'd be surprised how many of these people jump straight to 'So how much is your asking price for it'"-which coincidentally, is how this newsman/classified host did it, all the way to cars, which I knew more about and I asked for a few more details there-even if the person selling didn't have much more of a clue. It was my first time ever hosting a call-in show and I pulled it off, tired and slightly raspy towards the end, with VERY good results.
The show, which could have not happened at all or ended in flames actually came out pretty good. I knew how to work the show-having watched this guy before and some callers even complimented me on the air in spite of the fact that when the guy did show up, 20 minutes later, he was drunk off his ass and actually passed out in the station lobby a few minutes later, bottle of Seagrams 7 in hand. His car was parked ("?") halfway in a ditch in front of the station. (Don't forget I had to deal with this too.)
Another weekender just came in for his shift just a few minutes later, noticing the newsman staggering into the door and hearing me hosting the show and he was just as terrified of the possible aural disaster, he saw this and called 911. They got this guy into the hospital until he came around. He was alive, but extremely intoxicated. The weekender thanked me for saving the morning, even as tired and beat as I was.
I thought maybe I would get some recognition, maybe at the very least a thank you from the PD - though I was actually looking for a promotion (I kinda thought I deserved it, considering I had been there almost a year and since nothing happened by this time beyond some fill-ins, I was already looking for a better gig. And considering how it all could have ended, I'd say my future with the station was kinda riding on this.)
I didn't hear anything until the next morning, when the PD called me and said I was FIRED (the PD even fired the weekender who stuck up for me.)
"For WHAT?!"
"You are NOT supposed to host the classified show!"
I tried to explain what happened, but he railroaded me every time I tried to get a word in edgewise. And then I finally let him have it before I slammed the phone in his ear. I didn't even come in to pick up my last paycheck. I was THAT pissed off.
The station owner mailed it to me a week later, with an extra $500 and said in an attatched letter that he was very sorry for what happened and that he had fired both the PD and the newsman/classified host-he also mentioned he was listening that morning. He explained it was the personal friendship between the PD and the newsman and that loyalty kicked their own butts. I knew the PD and the newsman/classified host were buddies, (But I'd have ended that in a heartbeat if he ever came in like THAT if I were the PD.) And he said he understood what I must have been feeling and that I was welcome to come back and we would talk about it face to face. He asked me to call him directly if I accepted his apology.
Smell an opportunity here? Yes, I did too.
I called him back and said that I accepted his apology and that I had no hard feelings against him or the station whatsoever. But in that week another station in Oregon had just hired me and unless he offered me a better position (I was even going to settle for a weekday overnight) I really had no other choice.
He couldn't...and I couldn't wait. So I left.
Looking back, I wouldn't be kicking my own ass so hard now. That gig in Oregon (which I ended up HATING even worse) didn't last six months before I quit.....
The moral of this story? Never underestimate fate......