Openly we speak…daily blogs, texting, tweeting and podcasting—I call them Common Man Broadcasting 101. Emails, Skype, You Tube and My Space…we love it when something we’re doing is getting attention. Ask my trucker friend Brad who laughs and laughs and laughs about the videos he painlessly edits easily connecting him to over 500,000 hits a piece.
I’d fall over in Oscar Award Winning Halle Berry tears if 500,000 people all of sudden elected to tune into my radio show. That’s over 7 million dollars in Avatar Imax 3D money!
Barely twenty years ago, the common everyday voice was picked up and tossed into the mounting masses via the Opinion section of a local newspaper, radio morning show seeking listener participation, standing on a soapbox at church or connecting five farming families on the same out in the country party line.
It’s not that we haven’t wanted to say something—getting to a willing listener has been the mountain.
Removing one stone at a time from its highest peak was a humble leader who never became President of a nation. Yet he communicated with everyone as if he were. Historians call Benjamin Franklyn the worlds first Blogger. He wasn’t hired by the local rag. There were no tin cans on a thin string radio station broadcasts. Ben may have been fried by lightning while flying a kite but there were no television cameras to document it. So, our Great, Great, Great Grand Parents relied on his daily writing to which he printed then sent out.
About ten to fifteen times a year I’m invited to break bread with hundreds of up-and-coming Broadcasters—for several hours we do nothing more than share conversation about an industry dedicated to being this nations voice, entertainment and educator. In every cluster of visitors there’s always someone who wants to land a gig inside these chapters because of a burning desire to speak up and out.
I remember Tom the station program director looking at me with bewilderment the day I firmly stated in an air-check session, “I honestly believe my path is taking me toward Talk Radio.”
“You have to have something to talk about first…” his only comment.
Blunt, to the point, painfully honest with an impact that totally shut down my dream of being something other than a voice between the records. He was right! At the horribly old age of thirty…what would I bring to a two speaker stage that would attract 10 new listeners a day? Five shows a week…52 weeks equals twenty six hundred new listeners a year. Let’s be honest…for some stations that’s just down right the biggest show since CSI.
Having a voice is great! Locating a following can be the beginning of the end. Those attempting to make waves do so by putting energy in moments that motivate you, be it politics, Corporate American corruption, Hollywood glitz and glamour, potty mouth talk, the Stock Market to hawking cigars. There’s so much talk and talk and talk that it’s inspired over 500 million of us to be full fledged Face Book members. Holy cow we finally belong to something! We are loved! We are accepted!
Step back three feet from your computer screen and take note of what’s being written…
We’ve become so addicted to self help and motivation that we’ve now turned to each other. The afternoon quickie has become two horribly misspelled and badly punctuated sentences. The web is cotton candy and we can’t get enough of the sugar rush.
Being a Broadcaster…I can’t stop there. My real mission in life is to be the silent wolf—the watcher, note taker, the vividly clear but often times too poetic communicator who stops for a moment to view his surroundings and sees a village quickly turning into a pillar of salt.
New research shows that its time to stop telling coworkers, family members and friends to take a chill pill or lap up a pot of coffee. The once assumed instant high those beans delivered aren’t fast enough anymore. Our pursuit to hold a fair amount of self esteem comes in a tiny box with a screen attached. It doesn’t matter what’s being typed onto the pages we keep…attention is all we seek. A place to let our inner voice be heard.
One problem…like any addiction the journey toward collecting tweets, text messages and emails has made people brittle and nervous. We are winning the wrong prize. Being lifted on a daily if not hourly basis destroys personal goals and the willingness to conquer them. Relationships are hindered leading to friendships completely falling apart.
Just because you have 750 Face Book friends doesn’t make you a people person.
I love what author Lou Solomon writes, “Real confidence is not about feeling great about ourselves and being a big deal. It’s about knowing that acting like a big deal is completely unnecessary.”
I instantly erase emails that offer a compliment. I see it as cheating. If I’m getting a high off someone’s thoughts I’m not being true to myself…therefore it’s an emotional love affair. It’s too easy to fall into a vat of fat and call it honey. When reality wakes you up…its back to being fat.
Lou Solomon offers these four rules to keeping real:
I will tell you what I know from experience but I don’t know everything.
I stand for certain beliefs but I don’t believe I am better than anyone else.
I am interested in what you think.
I am open to consider a new perspective.
I’ve never smoked pot…but I know from a distance that if the state of California legalizes the drug 98% of this nation won’t care because a web high is far greater and longer lasting and although it may shatter a marriage research has yet to prove that it destroys brain cells.
Making someone’s day is a beautiful thing…don’t become their pusher.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
Knock! Knock! Knock!
I should’ve learned something in 1991…when important news happens—expect no reaction until its been chewed twenty times on both sides then swallowed.
My normal time of arrival was 2:45 to host a radio morning show that began at 5:30…it didn’t matter how cold the wind blew, before any steamy cup of coffee was poured into a often washed but deeply stained cup the tiny television positioned perfectly on a desk rumored to have once been used by legendary jock Jay Thomas had to be cranked up to see what might have happened during the moments of home departure to radio station arrival.
The daily goal was to participate with an audience nearing a million plus. It wasn’t a choice but a requirement to be completely in tune with more than just the time and temperature. Andrew Ashwood wanted me to be my listener’s second skin. We had to be in sync and being behind allowed others to make a bigger better wave.
On this particular morning being ahead of the game proved to be encouraging but not engaging. Word broke quickly; the Soviet Union was no more. Wasting no time, I slammed open the telephone lines—I wanted a reaction and got nothing. I remember looking at my producer Chris Beck and sharply questioning his skills, “Are the phones on? The Soviet Union is no more and you’re telling me American’s don’t have anything to say about it!”
These were the days before the internet was beamed into every on-air studio—we show prepped using USA Today and Good Morning America…so instant access to worldly events was almost null and void—although most stations came equipped with teletypes in the news room locked onto Washington, Paris and Moscow…due to the state of the economy and unfavorable financial conditions management elected to toss that system out.
Getting news wasn’t cheap in 1991. In times of struggle, the decision to dump the only connection you to have the present can easily be compared to a modern family deciding if we’re having slider burgers or Mom is frying six eggs to be divided between nine kids.
Getting no reaction from radio listeners has haunted my past nineteen years of radio. In every lecture I’ve shared on the campuses of many university and schools of broadcasting, the decision to toss out the stations morning show music format to seize control of what I assumed was breaking news made me realize how far I truly was in not being a listener’s second skin. I had come face to face with being out of tune.
This was before the Rush invasion of AM radio—political talk was just coming out and the only thing morning radio shows presented were thirty second stages for listeners to tell a joke or for us to make fun of you like Simon Cowell does on American Idol.
Last nights Super Bowl put me right back in those shoes of 1991.
Because I had received a major reaction from blogging live on Face Book for the Grammy’s…my oversized Broadcaster’s ego assumed being there to talk about those infamous commercials before morning radio shows got a hold of you the following day would serve as great Sunday night entertainment.
Busted! Only a few caught on. To whom I lost in the third quarter when The Saints turned the game into a one point play. Reaction was limited and usually came between the downs and if communication was connected it had nothing to do with the origin of why I elected to stay on Face Book for four unheard of hours. My page was filled with horrified Colt’s fans and overly excited newly discovered Saints saviors. Fans of the sport were hooked to their flat screens like a magnet making out with metal.
Real radio people never sleep...in an age of constant change and no limits on how the word is being delivered, the mind raced to locate the whereabouts of the X and Y Generation, lightly salted with Baby Boomers that magazines and newspapers claim are completely addicted to their I-Phones, Blackberry’s and laptops. My attempt to broadcast without the aid of antennas and formats still has me light years from realities bite.
I failed to let you digest. Which is a nightmarish comment to make—look how often the five and six o’clock news casts blast their way into your life with earth shattering stories. If they were forced to peacefully wait while the rest of the world catches up…we’d only be talking to those who just discovered The Cupid Shuffle. Been out two years…many are doing it for the first time.
What is the current pace and pattern of the modern day traveler? Companies are spending millions of dollars trying to locate who and where you are. As much as we want to believe the internet is everywhere and everything to the masses…it’s proving to still be a toy. Which in the long run is incredible—not being on Face Book meant you were spending real time with real friends and face to face conversation is so much more important than tap, tap, tap then hit send.
This morning the email system was caked with over 350 separate reactions and a note that said, “You can’t have any more until you dump.” Basically meaning, I jumped from a pool of water still dressed in tadpole clothes.
I know you’re there…figuring out a way to get to you is the Broadcaster in me. See you at the Oscars!
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
My normal time of arrival was 2:45 to host a radio morning show that began at 5:30…it didn’t matter how cold the wind blew, before any steamy cup of coffee was poured into a often washed but deeply stained cup the tiny television positioned perfectly on a desk rumored to have once been used by legendary jock Jay Thomas had to be cranked up to see what might have happened during the moments of home departure to radio station arrival.
The daily goal was to participate with an audience nearing a million plus. It wasn’t a choice but a requirement to be completely in tune with more than just the time and temperature. Andrew Ashwood wanted me to be my listener’s second skin. We had to be in sync and being behind allowed others to make a bigger better wave.
On this particular morning being ahead of the game proved to be encouraging but not engaging. Word broke quickly; the Soviet Union was no more. Wasting no time, I slammed open the telephone lines—I wanted a reaction and got nothing. I remember looking at my producer Chris Beck and sharply questioning his skills, “Are the phones on? The Soviet Union is no more and you’re telling me American’s don’t have anything to say about it!”
These were the days before the internet was beamed into every on-air studio—we show prepped using USA Today and Good Morning America…so instant access to worldly events was almost null and void—although most stations came equipped with teletypes in the news room locked onto Washington, Paris and Moscow…due to the state of the economy and unfavorable financial conditions management elected to toss that system out.
Getting news wasn’t cheap in 1991. In times of struggle, the decision to dump the only connection you to have the present can easily be compared to a modern family deciding if we’re having slider burgers or Mom is frying six eggs to be divided between nine kids.
Getting no reaction from radio listeners has haunted my past nineteen years of radio. In every lecture I’ve shared on the campuses of many university and schools of broadcasting, the decision to toss out the stations morning show music format to seize control of what I assumed was breaking news made me realize how far I truly was in not being a listener’s second skin. I had come face to face with being out of tune.
This was before the Rush invasion of AM radio—political talk was just coming out and the only thing morning radio shows presented were thirty second stages for listeners to tell a joke or for us to make fun of you like Simon Cowell does on American Idol.
Last nights Super Bowl put me right back in those shoes of 1991.
Because I had received a major reaction from blogging live on Face Book for the Grammy’s…my oversized Broadcaster’s ego assumed being there to talk about those infamous commercials before morning radio shows got a hold of you the following day would serve as great Sunday night entertainment.
Busted! Only a few caught on. To whom I lost in the third quarter when The Saints turned the game into a one point play. Reaction was limited and usually came between the downs and if communication was connected it had nothing to do with the origin of why I elected to stay on Face Book for four unheard of hours. My page was filled with horrified Colt’s fans and overly excited newly discovered Saints saviors. Fans of the sport were hooked to their flat screens like a magnet making out with metal.
Real radio people never sleep...in an age of constant change and no limits on how the word is being delivered, the mind raced to locate the whereabouts of the X and Y Generation, lightly salted with Baby Boomers that magazines and newspapers claim are completely addicted to their I-Phones, Blackberry’s and laptops. My attempt to broadcast without the aid of antennas and formats still has me light years from realities bite.
I failed to let you digest. Which is a nightmarish comment to make—look how often the five and six o’clock news casts blast their way into your life with earth shattering stories. If they were forced to peacefully wait while the rest of the world catches up…we’d only be talking to those who just discovered The Cupid Shuffle. Been out two years…many are doing it for the first time.
What is the current pace and pattern of the modern day traveler? Companies are spending millions of dollars trying to locate who and where you are. As much as we want to believe the internet is everywhere and everything to the masses…it’s proving to still be a toy. Which in the long run is incredible—not being on Face Book meant you were spending real time with real friends and face to face conversation is so much more important than tap, tap, tap then hit send.
This morning the email system was caked with over 350 separate reactions and a note that said, “You can’t have any more until you dump.” Basically meaning, I jumped from a pool of water still dressed in tadpole clothes.
I know you’re there…figuring out a way to get to you is the Broadcaster in me. See you at the Oscars!
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Knock! Knock! Knock!
I should’ve learned something in 1991…when important news happens—expect no reaction until its been chewed twenty times on both sides then swallowed.
My normal time of arrival was 2:45 to host a radio morning show that began at 5:30…it didn’t matter how cold the wind blew, before any steamy cup of coffee was poured into a often washed but deeply stained cup the tiny television positioned perfectly on a desk rumored to have once been used by legendary jock Jay Thomas had to be cranked up to see what might have happened during the moments of home departure to radio station arrival.
The daily goal was to participate with an audience nearing a million plus. It wasn’t a choice but a requirement to be completely in tune with more than just the time and temperature. Andrew Ashwood wanted me to be my listener’s second skin. We had to be in sync and being behind allowed others to make a bigger better wave.
On this particular morning being ahead of the game proved to be encouraging but not engaging. Word broke quickly; the Soviet Union was no more. Wasting no time, I slammed open the telephone lines—I wanted a reaction and got nothing. I remember looking at my producer Chris Beck and sharply questioning his skills, “Are the phones on? The Soviet Union is no more and you’re telling me American’s don’t have anything to say about it!”
These were the days before the internet was beamed into every on-air studio—we show prepped using USA Today and Good Morning America…so instant access to worldly events was almost null and void—although most stations came equipped with teletypes in the news room locked onto Washington, Paris and Moscow…due to the state of the economy and unfavorable financial conditions management elected to toss that system out.
Getting news wasn’t cheap in 1991. In times of struggle, the decision to dump the only connection you to have the present can easily be compared to a modern family deciding if we’re having slider burgers or Mom is frying six eggs to be divided between nine kids.
Getting no reaction from radio listeners has haunted my past nineteen years of radio. In every lecture I’ve shared on the campuses of many university and schools of broadcasting, the decision to toss out the stations morning show music format to seize control of what I assumed was breaking news made me realize how far I truly was in not being a listener’s second skin. I had come face to face with being out of tune.
This was before the Rush invasion of AM radio—political talk was just coming out and the only thing morning radio shows presented were thirty second stages for listeners to tell a joke or for us to make fun of you like Simon Cowell does on American Idol.
Last nights Super Bowl put me right back in those shoes of 1991.
Because I had received a major reaction from blogging live on Face Book for the Grammy’s…my oversized Broadcaster’s ego assumed being there to talk about those infamous commercials before morning radio shows got a hold of you the following day would serve as great Sunday night entertainment.
Busted! Only a few caught on. To whom I lost in the third quarter when The Saints turned the game into a one point play. Reaction was limited and usually came between the downs and if communication was connected it had nothing to do with the origin of why I elected to stay on Face Book for four unheard of hours. My page was filled with horrified Colt’s fans and overly excited newly discovered Saints saviors. Fans of the sport were hooked to their flat screens like a magnet making out with metal.
Real radio people never sleep...in an age of constant change and no limits on how the word is being delivered, the mind raced to locate the whereabouts of the X and Y Generation, lightly salted with Baby Boomers that magazines and newspapers claim are completely addicted to their I-Phones, Blackberry’s and laptops. My attempt to broadcast without the aid of antennas and formats still has me light years from realities bite.
I failed to let you digest. Which is a nightmarish comment to make—look how often the five and six o’clock news casts blast their way into your life with earth shattering stories. If they were forced to peacefully wait while the rest of the world catches up…we’d only be talking to those who just discovered The Cupid Shuffle. Been out two years…many are doing it for the first time.
What is the current pace and pattern of the modern day traveler? Companies are spending millions of dollars trying to locate who and where you are. As much as we want to believe the internet is everywhere and everything to the masses…it’s proving to still be a toy. Which in the long run is incredible—not being on Face Book meant you were spending real time with real friends and face to face conversation is so much more important than tap, tap, tap then hit send.
This morning the email system was caked with over 350 separate reactions and a note that said, “You can’t have any more until you dump.” Basically meaning, I jumped from a pool of water still dressed in tadpole clothes.
I know you’re there…figuring out a way to get to you is the Broadcaster in me. See you at the Oscars!
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
My normal time of arrival was 2:45 to host a radio morning show that began at 5:30…it didn’t matter how cold the wind blew, before any steamy cup of coffee was poured into a often washed but deeply stained cup the tiny television positioned perfectly on a desk rumored to have once been used by legendary jock Jay Thomas had to be cranked up to see what might have happened during the moments of home departure to radio station arrival.
The daily goal was to participate with an audience nearing a million plus. It wasn’t a choice but a requirement to be completely in tune with more than just the time and temperature. Andrew Ashwood wanted me to be my listener’s second skin. We had to be in sync and being behind allowed others to make a bigger better wave.
On this particular morning being ahead of the game proved to be encouraging but not engaging. Word broke quickly; the Soviet Union was no more. Wasting no time, I slammed open the telephone lines—I wanted a reaction and got nothing. I remember looking at my producer Chris Beck and sharply questioning his skills, “Are the phones on? The Soviet Union is no more and you’re telling me American’s don’t have anything to say about it!”
These were the days before the internet was beamed into every on-air studio—we show prepped using USA Today and Good Morning America…so instant access to worldly events was almost null and void—although most stations came equipped with teletypes in the news room locked onto Washington, Paris and Moscow…due to the state of the economy and unfavorable financial conditions management elected to toss that system out.
Getting news wasn’t cheap in 1991. In times of struggle, the decision to dump the only connection you to have the present can easily be compared to a modern family deciding if we’re having slider burgers or Mom is frying six eggs to be divided between nine kids.
Getting no reaction from radio listeners has haunted my past nineteen years of radio. In every lecture I’ve shared on the campuses of many university and schools of broadcasting, the decision to toss out the stations morning show music format to seize control of what I assumed was breaking news made me realize how far I truly was in not being a listener’s second skin. I had come face to face with being out of tune.
This was before the Rush invasion of AM radio—political talk was just coming out and the only thing morning radio shows presented were thirty second stages for listeners to tell a joke or for us to make fun of you like Simon Cowell does on American Idol.
Last nights Super Bowl put me right back in those shoes of 1991.
Because I had received a major reaction from blogging live on Face Book for the Grammy’s…my oversized Broadcaster’s ego assumed being there to talk about those infamous commercials before morning radio shows got a hold of you the following day would serve as great Sunday night entertainment.
Busted! Only a few caught on. To whom I lost in the third quarter when The Saints turned the game into a one point play. Reaction was limited and usually came between the downs and if communication was connected it had nothing to do with the origin of why I elected to stay on Face Book for four unheard of hours. My page was filled with horrified Colt’s fans and overly excited newly discovered Saints saviors. Fans of the sport were hooked to their flat screens like a magnet making out with metal.
Real radio people never sleep...in an age of constant change and no limits on how the word is being delivered, the mind raced to locate the whereabouts of the X and Y Generation, lightly salted with Baby Boomers that magazines and newspapers claim are completely addicted to their I-Phones, Blackberry’s and laptops. My attempt to broadcast without the aid of antennas and formats still has me light years from realities bite.
I failed to let you digest. Which is a nightmarish comment to make—look how often the five and six o’clock news casts blast their way into your life with earth shattering stories. If they were forced to peacefully wait while the rest of the world catches up…we’d only be talking to those who just discovered The Cupid Shuffle. Been out two years…many are doing it for the first time.
What is the current pace and pattern of the modern day traveler? Companies are spending millions of dollars trying to locate who and where you are. As much as we want to believe the internet is everywhere and everything to the masses…it’s proving to still be a toy. Which in the long run is incredible—not being on Face Book meant you were spending real time with real friends and face to face conversation is so much more important than tap, tap, tap then hit send.
This morning the email system was caked with over 350 separate reactions and a note that said, “You can’t have any more until you dump.” Basically meaning, I jumped from a pool of water still dressed in tadpole clothes.
I know you’re there…figuring out a way to get to you is the Broadcaster in me. See you at the Oscars!
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Friday, February 5, 2010
Coupon use will make you feel like a champion if...
Not to harp on these tougher than dirt modern times but the best thing to come out of Corporate America’s struggle to survive is a perfectly printed buy one get one free lunch or dinner. Nothing says yummy for the tummy more than knowing one of you is eating on the house.
Such pieces of paper are perfect for families on a serious budget, best friend nights out, your personal journey to discover new tastes and treats and more importantly for business people who are set inside situations where taking care of a client is top priority—that means you owe me something to eat.
Had these chunks of cha-ching savings devices been invented during my early days of radio…I’d still be in charge of the music.
I didn’t survive a year as music director—nothing makes me feel guiltier than knowing the tab is on someone else. I remember telling a record rep, “You’re wasting my time…and more importantly my space. Save your efforts for someone who’s easily sold during such a purchase. I need to get back to the world of radio where making a difference has nothing to do with mashed potatoes and Michael Bolton.”
I honestly believe the situation would’ve been different if the record rep used a buy one get one free coupon then split the cost. In doing research on such embarrassing behavior, I learned my “not for sale” attitude isn’t alone and that a stronger relationship is capable of being created if paying your own way is the understandable game.
Decision makers who walk through life expecting people to buy them lunch end up eating alone when the name tag falls off the company door. The last thing I wanted to hear coming through that mid-1980’s cell phone in a box was, “Dude we had thick steaks the other night…give me a couple more Madonna spins.”
Because of economic conditions the “suck up to the client” approach to building a solid line between each others pockets has changed not a little but a lot. Most companies can’t afford the dollar menu at McDonalds. They elect instead to scan the mail, newspaper and magazines for incredible BOFO’s…buy one get one free offers.
But how do you creatively introduce this hot idea to a potential client? What you don’t want to do is look desperate, “Hey Bob…um…make sure you order a sandwich and a soft drink…sweet tea doesn’t count.”
According to Anne Marie Sabbath, the Queen of business manners and ethics you’ve got to step up to the plate and display some good business leadership, “Hey Mike, I scored a buy one get one free from Build a Better Burger—wanna go in with me? We’ll split the cost and still come out looking better than our nations banking system.”
Warning: If you truly want to impress your potential client or friend…make sure you tip on what the entire bill would’ve cost. The wait staff should never be put on a buy one get one free budget.
Ok…so what happens if the person treating you to lunch or dinner is a bad tipper? Is there a good way to handle it or should you quickly run the moment you’re excused from the table? Who wants to look into the eyes of a food server barely making $2.25 an hour when Captain Business man just laid out a few coins and no dollars?
I grew up in the restaurant world—The Muzzle Loader Café in Billings, Montana. I cleaned tables to afford my passion for air hockey and late night bowling. Nothing torched my soul more than having conversation with a waitress who received pennies from the fat farmer with a full tummy. This is why you’ll see me physically get up and casually walk to the employee of the restaurant and share with them the tip. Dinner isn’t Easter…they shouldn’t have to search for something they’ve earned.
When locked in an uncaring situation where the coworker, boss or client didn’t drop enough on the table, walk with them toward the door than instantly remember you forgot something at the table. Guess who’ll never forget your decision to go back and make it a better tip? Waiters and waitresses are like elephants…they never forget.
I’m always accused of knowing way too many people…that’s because wherever I go I take the time to talk to everyone including the Sushi Chef stuck behind a wall of glass. If you want to impress a client, get to know the people behind the scenes. Nothing says importance more than a busboy or secondary server coming up to you to ask, “How is your spouse? Or…it’s incredible to see you again.”
Winning a ratings race isn’t always for radio and television. How you treat people affects everyone. Shake hands, bump fists, make more than eye contact…share real conversation…ask about the bracelet your waitress is wearing. Take the time to notice them and they’ll always remember you.
Restaurant customers should come with ratings numbers too…Johnny is wearing the number 83. That means he only tips when he’s trying to impress a lady. Look at Kevin the Dodge Ball Champion—he’s got a 99.9…holy cow, we have someone who honestly gives a rats tail about those who make up his circle of success.
Steal his art…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Such pieces of paper are perfect for families on a serious budget, best friend nights out, your personal journey to discover new tastes and treats and more importantly for business people who are set inside situations where taking care of a client is top priority—that means you owe me something to eat.
Had these chunks of cha-ching savings devices been invented during my early days of radio…I’d still be in charge of the music.
I didn’t survive a year as music director—nothing makes me feel guiltier than knowing the tab is on someone else. I remember telling a record rep, “You’re wasting my time…and more importantly my space. Save your efforts for someone who’s easily sold during such a purchase. I need to get back to the world of radio where making a difference has nothing to do with mashed potatoes and Michael Bolton.”
I honestly believe the situation would’ve been different if the record rep used a buy one get one free coupon then split the cost. In doing research on such embarrassing behavior, I learned my “not for sale” attitude isn’t alone and that a stronger relationship is capable of being created if paying your own way is the understandable game.
Decision makers who walk through life expecting people to buy them lunch end up eating alone when the name tag falls off the company door. The last thing I wanted to hear coming through that mid-1980’s cell phone in a box was, “Dude we had thick steaks the other night…give me a couple more Madonna spins.”
Because of economic conditions the “suck up to the client” approach to building a solid line between each others pockets has changed not a little but a lot. Most companies can’t afford the dollar menu at McDonalds. They elect instead to scan the mail, newspaper and magazines for incredible BOFO’s…buy one get one free offers.
But how do you creatively introduce this hot idea to a potential client? What you don’t want to do is look desperate, “Hey Bob…um…make sure you order a sandwich and a soft drink…sweet tea doesn’t count.”
According to Anne Marie Sabbath, the Queen of business manners and ethics you’ve got to step up to the plate and display some good business leadership, “Hey Mike, I scored a buy one get one free from Build a Better Burger—wanna go in with me? We’ll split the cost and still come out looking better than our nations banking system.”
Warning: If you truly want to impress your potential client or friend…make sure you tip on what the entire bill would’ve cost. The wait staff should never be put on a buy one get one free budget.
Ok…so what happens if the person treating you to lunch or dinner is a bad tipper? Is there a good way to handle it or should you quickly run the moment you’re excused from the table? Who wants to look into the eyes of a food server barely making $2.25 an hour when Captain Business man just laid out a few coins and no dollars?
I grew up in the restaurant world—The Muzzle Loader Café in Billings, Montana. I cleaned tables to afford my passion for air hockey and late night bowling. Nothing torched my soul more than having conversation with a waitress who received pennies from the fat farmer with a full tummy. This is why you’ll see me physically get up and casually walk to the employee of the restaurant and share with them the tip. Dinner isn’t Easter…they shouldn’t have to search for something they’ve earned.
When locked in an uncaring situation where the coworker, boss or client didn’t drop enough on the table, walk with them toward the door than instantly remember you forgot something at the table. Guess who’ll never forget your decision to go back and make it a better tip? Waiters and waitresses are like elephants…they never forget.
I’m always accused of knowing way too many people…that’s because wherever I go I take the time to talk to everyone including the Sushi Chef stuck behind a wall of glass. If you want to impress a client, get to know the people behind the scenes. Nothing says importance more than a busboy or secondary server coming up to you to ask, “How is your spouse? Or…it’s incredible to see you again.”
Winning a ratings race isn’t always for radio and television. How you treat people affects everyone. Shake hands, bump fists, make more than eye contact…share real conversation…ask about the bracelet your waitress is wearing. Take the time to notice them and they’ll always remember you.
Restaurant customers should come with ratings numbers too…Johnny is wearing the number 83. That means he only tips when he’s trying to impress a lady. Look at Kevin the Dodge Ball Champion—he’s got a 99.9…holy cow, we have someone who honestly gives a rats tail about those who make up his circle of success.
Steal his art…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Break free from pointing and hug somebody...
I do hereby declare today as being National Hug a Toyota Employee Day.
It wasn’t the receptionists fault. It wasn’t the accountants fault. Don’t point that nasty finger at the parts department, the mechanics, sales team, detailing crew and late night staff that restock the always free cup of hot customer brew.
A lot has been written, said and assumed and in the end judgment has come to the path of an incredibly large number of hard working and deeply dedicated American’s who are guilty through association and that’s just not fair.
My Native American studies teach: Watch very closely where you place your black magic…to know of its power is to experience its energy first hand.
So today is National Hug a Toyota Employee Day.
It took Thomas Edison 1,000 times to finally connect the right dots to light up a bulb—an object so intensely important to our continued survival and yet it still wasn’t and hasn’t been certified perfect because GE and other earth saving Green groups won’t stop trying to reinvent it.
If you want to complain about something…yank the chain of battery makers. In an age of need this, need that, have to have it right here, right now…the brain child behind our portable freedom continues to make billions off an object that can barely live beyond a fly’s life.
Complain about banks who service charge your every move then hand millions of dollars over to their decision makers as a way of saying thank you…and the best you got this past year was a dirty look from the boss after he handed you another stack of need by 3pm’s or else.
When did the New York City attitude take over our great nation of dreams coming true? Wait! I take that back…my stepfather is far from being an east coast monster yet he carries the same attitude of, “Don’t ever give me an excuse…success is looked upon as being my failure if you’ve elected to give me less than 500%.”
I love motivation but does it have to come in a ten gallon hat of intimidation? Constructive criticism is a weapon of mass destruction. Through evolution we’ve become a brick wall of dynamite and no one is worthy of being our personal McGyver physically fit to free you in the final seconds of what could easily be a solid, “I quit.”
Therefore it becomes natural to prey upon the headlines for anything, anyone or any company…a slight skip, flip, flop or stumble feeds your dried up river banks of fate and fear and allows you to think about something other than your own escape.
Television news is no different than Hollywood…every week a new adventure is released…which one is going to grab the most followers? As much as I loved Avatar—the thought of being number one seven weeks in a row is so 1980’s. In an age of constantly delivered new and improved James Cameron will never be great until he can deliver a sequel inside a two week period.
The only one who can break this habit is the image in the mirror.
I’d ask you to latch onto some heart healing reading deprivation but the newspaper and magazine industry is hurting too badly. I’d beg you to stop watching the news but in some cases that’s the only source of income for a station to stay on the air. Being that it’s almost Presidents day I could invite you to release some of your anger by chopping down a cherry tree but the Green House Effect is real and we need every leaf maker to keep reaching for the sky.
National Hug a Toyota Employee Day…its moments like this that we need Robert Plant and Jimmy Page to pop out of these computer screens and give us A Whole Lotta Love.
Missing from our vocabulary is, “I believe.”
We need a song that inspires, influences and opens the trail for better than a few covered wagons to make it across the open plain. Yes we can…got us nowhere…quickly. The good times of the late 90’s took us to the mountain top. Today it feels like we should be roasting hot dogs with a funny looking dude once compared to a snake.
Life isn’t like American Idol…there aren’t any phone numbers to call to land our unwritten chapters within the ranks of Hollywood week. Nobody’s talking about this weekends Super Bowl. Not even the class clown who walks around the office begging for five dollar bets.
Are we living the style and standard once chartered by the Romans held at the moment their giant Coliseum became nothing more than a weather beaten shell? If that is the way all too many of us have predicted then we’ve got to be like the Greeks whose ruins are resurrected statues that symbolize a hard fought victory.
That's not going to happen!
We are the Vikings who relied on manpower alone to shape those ocean waters into paths that led mankind to a better time. We are the Crow Nation of Montana whose journey started out as an unsupported walk in Wisconsin where a leader stepped up and out, leading his people and followers through 100 years of struggles over to the Big Sky Country, down to Tennessee then back to Montana only to face Custer. Ask any elder of his travels and he will tell you the true star of their show isn’t the Chief or fearless warrior but rather the teen and younger that made the moccasins that protected their feet.
National Hug a Toyota Employee Day…because one day soon they’re going to make your life one smile brighter and three steps easier to carry. I believe in everyone who makes that company a leader.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
It wasn’t the receptionists fault. It wasn’t the accountants fault. Don’t point that nasty finger at the parts department, the mechanics, sales team, detailing crew and late night staff that restock the always free cup of hot customer brew.
A lot has been written, said and assumed and in the end judgment has come to the path of an incredibly large number of hard working and deeply dedicated American’s who are guilty through association and that’s just not fair.
My Native American studies teach: Watch very closely where you place your black magic…to know of its power is to experience its energy first hand.
So today is National Hug a Toyota Employee Day.
It took Thomas Edison 1,000 times to finally connect the right dots to light up a bulb—an object so intensely important to our continued survival and yet it still wasn’t and hasn’t been certified perfect because GE and other earth saving Green groups won’t stop trying to reinvent it.
If you want to complain about something…yank the chain of battery makers. In an age of need this, need that, have to have it right here, right now…the brain child behind our portable freedom continues to make billions off an object that can barely live beyond a fly’s life.
Complain about banks who service charge your every move then hand millions of dollars over to their decision makers as a way of saying thank you…and the best you got this past year was a dirty look from the boss after he handed you another stack of need by 3pm’s or else.
When did the New York City attitude take over our great nation of dreams coming true? Wait! I take that back…my stepfather is far from being an east coast monster yet he carries the same attitude of, “Don’t ever give me an excuse…success is looked upon as being my failure if you’ve elected to give me less than 500%.”
I love motivation but does it have to come in a ten gallon hat of intimidation? Constructive criticism is a weapon of mass destruction. Through evolution we’ve become a brick wall of dynamite and no one is worthy of being our personal McGyver physically fit to free you in the final seconds of what could easily be a solid, “I quit.”
Therefore it becomes natural to prey upon the headlines for anything, anyone or any company…a slight skip, flip, flop or stumble feeds your dried up river banks of fate and fear and allows you to think about something other than your own escape.
Television news is no different than Hollywood…every week a new adventure is released…which one is going to grab the most followers? As much as I loved Avatar—the thought of being number one seven weeks in a row is so 1980’s. In an age of constantly delivered new and improved James Cameron will never be great until he can deliver a sequel inside a two week period.
The only one who can break this habit is the image in the mirror.
I’d ask you to latch onto some heart healing reading deprivation but the newspaper and magazine industry is hurting too badly. I’d beg you to stop watching the news but in some cases that’s the only source of income for a station to stay on the air. Being that it’s almost Presidents day I could invite you to release some of your anger by chopping down a cherry tree but the Green House Effect is real and we need every leaf maker to keep reaching for the sky.
National Hug a Toyota Employee Day…its moments like this that we need Robert Plant and Jimmy Page to pop out of these computer screens and give us A Whole Lotta Love.
Missing from our vocabulary is, “I believe.”
We need a song that inspires, influences and opens the trail for better than a few covered wagons to make it across the open plain. Yes we can…got us nowhere…quickly. The good times of the late 90’s took us to the mountain top. Today it feels like we should be roasting hot dogs with a funny looking dude once compared to a snake.
Life isn’t like American Idol…there aren’t any phone numbers to call to land our unwritten chapters within the ranks of Hollywood week. Nobody’s talking about this weekends Super Bowl. Not even the class clown who walks around the office begging for five dollar bets.
Are we living the style and standard once chartered by the Romans held at the moment their giant Coliseum became nothing more than a weather beaten shell? If that is the way all too many of us have predicted then we’ve got to be like the Greeks whose ruins are resurrected statues that symbolize a hard fought victory.
That's not going to happen!
We are the Vikings who relied on manpower alone to shape those ocean waters into paths that led mankind to a better time. We are the Crow Nation of Montana whose journey started out as an unsupported walk in Wisconsin where a leader stepped up and out, leading his people and followers through 100 years of struggles over to the Big Sky Country, down to Tennessee then back to Montana only to face Custer. Ask any elder of his travels and he will tell you the true star of their show isn’t the Chief or fearless warrior but rather the teen and younger that made the moccasins that protected their feet.
National Hug a Toyota Employee Day…because one day soon they’re going to make your life one smile brighter and three steps easier to carry. I believe in everyone who makes that company a leader.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Break free from pointing and hug somebody...
I do hereby declare today as being National Hug a Toyota Employee Day.
It wasn’t the receptionists fault. It wasn’t the accountants fault. Don’t point that nasty finger at the parts department, the mechanics, sales team, detailing crew and late night staff that restock the always free cup of hot customer brew.
A lot has been written, said and assumed and in the end judgment has come to the path of an incredibly large number of hard working and deeply dedicated American’s who are guilty through association and that’s just not fair.
My Native American studies teach: Watch very closely where you place your black magic…to know of its power is to experience its energy first hand.
So today is National Hug a Toyota Employee Day.
It took Thomas Edison 1,000 times to finally connect the right dots to light up a bulb—an object so intensely important to our continued survival and yet it still wasn’t and hasn’t been certified perfect because GE and other earth saving Green groups won’t stop trying to reinvent it.
If you want to complain about something…yank the chain of battery makers. In an age of need this, need that, have to have it right here, right now…the brain child behind our portable freedom continues to make billions off an object that can barely live beyond a fly’s life.
Complain about banks who service charge your every move then hand millions of dollars over to their decision makers as a way of saying thank you…and the best you got this past year was a dirty look from the boss after he handed you another stack of need by 3pm’s or else.
When did the New York City attitude take over our great nation of dreams coming true? Wait! I take that back…my stepfather is far from being an east coast monster yet he carries the same attitude of, “Don’t ever give me an excuse…success is looked upon as being my failure if you’ve elected to give me less than 500%.”
I love motivation but does it have to come in a ten gallon hate of intimidation? Constructive criticism is a weapon of mass destruction. Through evolution we’ve become a brick wall of dynamite and no one is worthy of being our personal McGyver physically fit to free you in the final seconds of what could easily be a solid, “I quit.”
Therefore it becomes natural to prey upon the headlines for anything, anyone or any company…a slight skip, flip, flop or stumble feeds your dried up river banks of fate and fear and allows you to think about something other than your own escape.
Television news is no different than Hollywood…every week a new adventure is released…which one is going to grab the most followers? As much as I loved Avatar—the thought of being number one seven weeks in a row is so 1980’s. In an age of constantly delivered new and improved James Cameron will never be great until he can deliver a sequel inside a two week period.
The only one who can break this habit is the image in the mirror.
I’d ask you to latch onto some heart healing reading deprivation but the newspaper and magazine industry is hurting too badly. I’d beg you to stop watching the news but in some cases that’s the only source of income for a station to stay on the air. Being that it’s almost Presidents day I could invite you to release some of your anger by chopping down a cherry tree but the Green House Effect is real and we need every leaf maker to keep reaching for the sky.
National Hug a Toyota Employee Day…its moments like this that we need Robert Plant and Jimmy Page to pop out of these computer screens and give us A Whole Lotta Love.
Missing from our vocabulary is, “I believe.”
We need a song that inspires, influences and opens the trail for better than a few covered wagons to make it across the open plain. Yes we can…got us nowhere…quickly. The good times of the late 90’s took us to the mountain top. Today it feels like we should be roasting hot dogs with a funny looking dude once compared to a snake.
Life isn’t like American Idol…there aren’t any phone numbers to call to land our unwritten chapters within the ranks of Hollywood week. Nobody’s talking about this weekends Super Bowl. Not even the class clown who walks around the office begging for five dollar bets.
Are we living the style and standard once chartered by the Romans held at the moment their giant Coliseum became nothing more than a weather beaten shell? If that is the way all too many of us have predicted then we’ve got to be like the Greeks whose ruins are resurrected statues that symbolize a hard fought victory.
That's not going to happen!
We are the Vikings who relied on manpower alone to shape those ocean waters into paths that led mankind to a better time. We are the Crow Nation of Montana whose journey started out as an unsupported walk in Wisconsin where a leader stepped up and out, leading his people and followers through 100 years of struggles over to the Big Sky Country, down to Tennessee then back to Montana only to face Custer. Ask any elder of his travels and he will tell you the true star of their show isn’t the Chief or fearless warrior but rather the teen and younger that made the moccasins that protected their feet.
National Hug a Toyota Employee Day…because one day soon they’re going to make your life one smile brighter and three steps easier to carry. I believe in everyone who makes that company a leader.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
It wasn’t the receptionists fault. It wasn’t the accountants fault. Don’t point that nasty finger at the parts department, the mechanics, sales team, detailing crew and late night staff that restock the always free cup of hot customer brew.
A lot has been written, said and assumed and in the end judgment has come to the path of an incredibly large number of hard working and deeply dedicated American’s who are guilty through association and that’s just not fair.
My Native American studies teach: Watch very closely where you place your black magic…to know of its power is to experience its energy first hand.
So today is National Hug a Toyota Employee Day.
It took Thomas Edison 1,000 times to finally connect the right dots to light up a bulb—an object so intensely important to our continued survival and yet it still wasn’t and hasn’t been certified perfect because GE and other earth saving Green groups won’t stop trying to reinvent it.
If you want to complain about something…yank the chain of battery makers. In an age of need this, need that, have to have it right here, right now…the brain child behind our portable freedom continues to make billions off an object that can barely live beyond a fly’s life.
Complain about banks who service charge your every move then hand millions of dollars over to their decision makers as a way of saying thank you…and the best you got this past year was a dirty look from the boss after he handed you another stack of need by 3pm’s or else.
When did the New York City attitude take over our great nation of dreams coming true? Wait! I take that back…my stepfather is far from being an east coast monster yet he carries the same attitude of, “Don’t ever give me an excuse…success is looked upon as being my failure if you’ve elected to give me less than 500%.”
I love motivation but does it have to come in a ten gallon hate of intimidation? Constructive criticism is a weapon of mass destruction. Through evolution we’ve become a brick wall of dynamite and no one is worthy of being our personal McGyver physically fit to free you in the final seconds of what could easily be a solid, “I quit.”
Therefore it becomes natural to prey upon the headlines for anything, anyone or any company…a slight skip, flip, flop or stumble feeds your dried up river banks of fate and fear and allows you to think about something other than your own escape.
Television news is no different than Hollywood…every week a new adventure is released…which one is going to grab the most followers? As much as I loved Avatar—the thought of being number one seven weeks in a row is so 1980’s. In an age of constantly delivered new and improved James Cameron will never be great until he can deliver a sequel inside a two week period.
The only one who can break this habit is the image in the mirror.
I’d ask you to latch onto some heart healing reading deprivation but the newspaper and magazine industry is hurting too badly. I’d beg you to stop watching the news but in some cases that’s the only source of income for a station to stay on the air. Being that it’s almost Presidents day I could invite you to release some of your anger by chopping down a cherry tree but the Green House Effect is real and we need every leaf maker to keep reaching for the sky.
National Hug a Toyota Employee Day…its moments like this that we need Robert Plant and Jimmy Page to pop out of these computer screens and give us A Whole Lotta Love.
Missing from our vocabulary is, “I believe.”
We need a song that inspires, influences and opens the trail for better than a few covered wagons to make it across the open plain. Yes we can…got us nowhere…quickly. The good times of the late 90’s took us to the mountain top. Today it feels like we should be roasting hot dogs with a funny looking dude once compared to a snake.
Life isn’t like American Idol…there aren’t any phone numbers to call to land our unwritten chapters within the ranks of Hollywood week. Nobody’s talking about this weekends Super Bowl. Not even the class clown who walks around the office begging for five dollar bets.
Are we living the style and standard once chartered by the Romans held at the moment their giant Coliseum became nothing more than a weather beaten shell? If that is the way all too many of us have predicted then we’ve got to be like the Greeks whose ruins are resurrected statues that symbolize a hard fought victory.
That's not going to happen!
We are the Vikings who relied on manpower alone to shape those ocean waters into paths that led mankind to a better time. We are the Crow Nation of Montana whose journey started out as an unsupported walk in Wisconsin where a leader stepped up and out, leading his people and followers through 100 years of struggles over to the Big Sky Country, down to Tennessee then back to Montana only to face Custer. Ask any elder of his travels and he will tell you the true star of their show isn’t the Chief or fearless warrior but rather the teen and younger that made the moccasins that protected their feet.
National Hug a Toyota Employee Day…because one day soon they’re going to make your life one smile brighter and three steps easier to carry. I believe in everyone who makes that company a leader.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Wouldn't it be great if we lost leaves in the winter?
The Presidents State of the Union speech continues to gather energy inside the thoughts I keep. I love watching Mr. Obama’s pattern of release because each word delivered dominates an invisible stage that connects viewers to his personal visions.
I remember being electrified by President Ronald Reagan—whenever he spoke, all things around me no longer seemed important.
George W was a leaner. He didn’t stand up straight at the worlds most powerful podium, the President leaned into it, pulling off what a radio station program director once told me is the best way to communicate to listeners, calling it the Cheers bar approach to reaching someone without offending them. I totally grasp the concept of attempting to pull off an approachable demeanor but his swing showcased folded to the center shoulders, slouching which comes across as, “Hey we’ll do whatever it takes but right now I’ve got other things on my plate.”
In the movie The Legend of Bagger Vance Will Smith’s character explains, “Inside each and every one of us is our true authentic swing. Something that’s ours and ours alone. Something that can’t be learned…something that’s got to be remembered.”
In an age where music careers begin on television shows and computer games are so real it’s taught our nations young people to never fear the words of written law—the depth of our perception is barely two sentences thick.
Light years before Curt Cobain and Pearl Jam fed the veins of Grunge, President Reagan called the 1980’s the Me Generation. He sent cabinet members into soup kitchens as a way to better understand as well as seize control of wasteful government spending, which included the leader of our people to blatantly remind consumers that ketchup is a vegetable and shall be served in our schools as such.
Part of what made his swing effective was his acting skills to deliver lines that were geared toward slapping your heart and not your face. Even when ordering Mr. Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall, the angle of Reagan’s swing embodied more than the United States of America—the impact became universal.
Inside each and every one of us is our true authentic swing.
I believe this line of thought is fed to us the first time our parents catch us doing something stupid but don’t do anything about it, “He or she is going to be. He does it all the time, he’ll probably be.” Or even worse, “We’ve had nine generations of bankers in our family and my child will be the next to succeed in a world of numerical control.”
If one quarter of the nation didn’t leave their careers to chase real estate and Wall Street would the unemployment rate be where it’s at today?
A true authentic swing is better spent when disconnected from monetary satisfaction: Your authentic swing is something that can’t be learned…it something that’s got to be remembered. It’s yours and yours alone.
Try getting that one by the spouse and family censors.
Men trapped in garages and caves with ice cold beer on tap 24/7 is the current rage—it’s a place to hide while hosting secret poker games, watching Super Bowl games or just trying to piece together the reasons why an incompetent insurance company can’t seem to figure out how to pay medically trained buffoons chasing their own swing. A man without his fort is a follower.
A total rip off from women. What was Grandma Bakken really doing when she’d close the door leading to her sewing room? Nearly twenty years after her passing, the art she created is still unforgettable—I’d say she was extremely familiar with her swing and how to tap into it on a moments notice.
So the question is…what is yours and yours alone? What do you hold that can’t be learned yet its something you completely remember? What is your authentic swing?
It took twenty five overly dedicated and loyal years of on-air radio to realize this game is nothing more than a daily hobby…it aint my swing. Six years later, if I had known that I’d be doing what I perform seven days a week, the origin of having radio dreams wouldn’t have materialized. But I’m no different than the grocery store manager, the pill collector at the pharmacy and Wanda the Flea Market Guru…we follow dreams…we barely if ever listen to reality.
That’s why having a midlife crisis now begins in the mind, body and soul of a twenty eight year old and grows wild until you finally come to terms with the self that wanted more than a beautiful roof over your head and each bedroom filled with sports loving, school grade perfection kids. Stay at home Mom alcoholism is at its nightmarish peak. We’ve shopped until the banks dropped us. Careers are nothing more than dentists; both are in the market to pull teeth.
Inside each and every one of us is our true authentic swing. Something that’s ours and ours alone. Something that can’t be learned…something that’s got to be remembered.
Nearing 48…I have the courage to admit—I have no clue. Thought I’d be a Martial Arts Master by 50 but then what? Also assumed I would’ve been to Hollywood centuries before Seacrest…couldn’t locate the right decision maker to support the system. It has to be something that can’t be learned, something that’s got to be remembered. Which is kind of funny because Tom the program director once said to me, “You are five years away from having a name in radio.” That was in 1995. It’s been nothing but backwards since.
Inside each and every one of us is our true authentic swing. If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine…its probably hanging out with the socks and keys we can never find.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
I remember being electrified by President Ronald Reagan—whenever he spoke, all things around me no longer seemed important.
George W was a leaner. He didn’t stand up straight at the worlds most powerful podium, the President leaned into it, pulling off what a radio station program director once told me is the best way to communicate to listeners, calling it the Cheers bar approach to reaching someone without offending them. I totally grasp the concept of attempting to pull off an approachable demeanor but his swing showcased folded to the center shoulders, slouching which comes across as, “Hey we’ll do whatever it takes but right now I’ve got other things on my plate.”
In the movie The Legend of Bagger Vance Will Smith’s character explains, “Inside each and every one of us is our true authentic swing. Something that’s ours and ours alone. Something that can’t be learned…something that’s got to be remembered.”
In an age where music careers begin on television shows and computer games are so real it’s taught our nations young people to never fear the words of written law—the depth of our perception is barely two sentences thick.
Light years before Curt Cobain and Pearl Jam fed the veins of Grunge, President Reagan called the 1980’s the Me Generation. He sent cabinet members into soup kitchens as a way to better understand as well as seize control of wasteful government spending, which included the leader of our people to blatantly remind consumers that ketchup is a vegetable and shall be served in our schools as such.
Part of what made his swing effective was his acting skills to deliver lines that were geared toward slapping your heart and not your face. Even when ordering Mr. Gorbachev to tear down the Berlin Wall, the angle of Reagan’s swing embodied more than the United States of America—the impact became universal.
Inside each and every one of us is our true authentic swing.
I believe this line of thought is fed to us the first time our parents catch us doing something stupid but don’t do anything about it, “He or she is going to be. He does it all the time, he’ll probably be.” Or even worse, “We’ve had nine generations of bankers in our family and my child will be the next to succeed in a world of numerical control.”
If one quarter of the nation didn’t leave their careers to chase real estate and Wall Street would the unemployment rate be where it’s at today?
A true authentic swing is better spent when disconnected from monetary satisfaction: Your authentic swing is something that can’t be learned…it something that’s got to be remembered. It’s yours and yours alone.
Try getting that one by the spouse and family censors.
Men trapped in garages and caves with ice cold beer on tap 24/7 is the current rage—it’s a place to hide while hosting secret poker games, watching Super Bowl games or just trying to piece together the reasons why an incompetent insurance company can’t seem to figure out how to pay medically trained buffoons chasing their own swing. A man without his fort is a follower.
A total rip off from women. What was Grandma Bakken really doing when she’d close the door leading to her sewing room? Nearly twenty years after her passing, the art she created is still unforgettable—I’d say she was extremely familiar with her swing and how to tap into it on a moments notice.
So the question is…what is yours and yours alone? What do you hold that can’t be learned yet its something you completely remember? What is your authentic swing?
It took twenty five overly dedicated and loyal years of on-air radio to realize this game is nothing more than a daily hobby…it aint my swing. Six years later, if I had known that I’d be doing what I perform seven days a week, the origin of having radio dreams wouldn’t have materialized. But I’m no different than the grocery store manager, the pill collector at the pharmacy and Wanda the Flea Market Guru…we follow dreams…we barely if ever listen to reality.
That’s why having a midlife crisis now begins in the mind, body and soul of a twenty eight year old and grows wild until you finally come to terms with the self that wanted more than a beautiful roof over your head and each bedroom filled with sports loving, school grade perfection kids. Stay at home Mom alcoholism is at its nightmarish peak. We’ve shopped until the banks dropped us. Careers are nothing more than dentists; both are in the market to pull teeth.
Inside each and every one of us is our true authentic swing. Something that’s ours and ours alone. Something that can’t be learned…something that’s got to be remembered.
Nearing 48…I have the courage to admit—I have no clue. Thought I’d be a Martial Arts Master by 50 but then what? Also assumed I would’ve been to Hollywood centuries before Seacrest…couldn’t locate the right decision maker to support the system. It has to be something that can’t be learned, something that’s got to be remembered. Which is kind of funny because Tom the program director once said to me, “You are five years away from having a name in radio.” That was in 1995. It’s been nothing but backwards since.
Inside each and every one of us is our true authentic swing. If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine…its probably hanging out with the socks and keys we can never find.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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