The art of the "how not to ..." (under pressure)

Me (on the phone): "You ARE an expert! You spend more time in a bar than anybody I've ever known."
Sweet Ann (from across the cubicle): "Tell Ed I said hi."

I'm a communicator. For a living, even. For a living and for a "hobby." (I put "hobby" in quotes because at this point, it's like a part-time job that I love and don't collect a paycheck.)

OK, so maybe I'm not the best at doing it with tact. I would just call that "my direct nature" and "brutal honesty."

Anyway, I spend 40-some hours a week getting paid at the ol' AutoTrader and then probably another 10 to 20 doing various Internet radio projects and blogging. Sometimes the blog gets hosed, though. It's not because the blog is any less important or I'm not interested in it, it's just something I know will always be there for me when I'm ready to come home. Kind of like a cat.

Like this one.

Inky. She's ill-tempered, but rather loyal.

But, I digress.

I generally do pride myself on having pretty good communication skills. I'd like to think I'm outgoing, expressive, thoughtful ... all of those things. But you know what I plain suck at? I mean, I'm so bad at it, I could host a seminar on "how not to ... ."

"Managing Emotions Under Pressure."

I was looking for a show topic for this week's Happy Hour (the NEW show we're doing at 2 p.m. on Sundays on TalkRadioX) and a brochure for a one-day seminar with that title fell right into my path.

To tie it all together -- first, a little bit about Happy Hour!

This is a new, exciting project for us. For a couple of months, I was a co-host on The James Madison Show on TalkRadioX and I got to know a little bit about the operation and its people. Because of some technical issues, I wasn't able to keep doing the JM Show, but they offered (because they're such great, awesome guys) to talk to the people at TRX to see if I could have a slot. Fortunately, the people who make those decisions caught me on an "A-Game" day, and offered up the slot.

After waffling for a while on a day and time, we all finally settled on 2 p.m. Sunday.

We settled on 2 p.m. Sunday at about 6 p.m. Saturday night.

This ... is where a seminar on "Managing Emotions Under Pressure" would have come in handy.

At this point, all I had was the graphic you see above, no audio promos cut, a rudimentary knowledge of HOW to use the audio software and a co-host I couldn't locate. It's 7:15 p.m. the night before launch.

And here, as they say, is where pressure kicks in.

Ordinarly, I'm very good at meeting deadlines under pressure. I do it every single week. It's part of my job. But as I sat there that Saturday night looking for various bits of audio to string together into a show opener with a program I only kind of know something about, I started to feel my head pound. My chest tightened a little. I was hot. And I was on the verge of panic. These were people I wanted to impress. I wanted the new show to be flawless. I wanted nothing less than perfection.

I finally put something together I somewhat liked. At this point, I couldn't really see straight, my head was throbbing and I felt a little sick in the pit of my belly knowing that in all of the work on production, none of it included ... a topic. I e-mailed the finished audio product to my co-host (who lives five and a half hours from Charleston in an awesome little party town we like to call Harrisburg, Pa.) and said, "Call me when you get this. I want to know what you think of it."

Shortly after midnight, I really could have used the knowledge that would have been gleaned from "Managing Emotions Under Pressure."

Me: Hi.
Nightman (sneaky and mean): Hey.
M: Did you listen?
N: Yeah. It's a little bit choppy.

... BOOM!!

What happened in the next few minutes could only be described as someone who did NOT "Manage Emotions Under Pressure." In a matter of sheer seconds, I became my father.

"Fine. You don't like it, I just e-mailed you the software. Have at it."

"You know, what the hell have YOU done to make this happen? Oh, wait. That's right. Nothing."

"Do you have any idea what it's like to spend four hours trying to put something like that together?"

I failed, clearly, to "Manage Emotions Under Pressure." Every time he said "calm down" I got angrier. When he tried to tell me that after listening to it a couple more times, he really liked it, I told him I didn't want to hear it. I stopped listening. I didn't let him talk. I started crying. I started attacking him for about everything I could think of.

I became everything I hate about people who can't handle pressure.

To his credit, he softened his tone and tried to get me to just walk away from it for the night and go to sleep. We're close enough to know those little quirks about each other -- I'm not very easy to deal with if I'm frustrated. Add fatigue and a migraine on top of it, and you're playing with a stick of C4 (that might be sparking) in one hand and a match in the other.

Is it right? No. Hell no it's not right. I had no reason to act that way. I was under pressure and rather than letting rational behavior win, I flipped out like a hormonal teenage girl.

Fortunately, when 2 p.m. Sunday hit, it didn't matter. The opening was nailed. The show was tight. We got lots of feedback and compliments and we ended it right on time (there's math involved!) even when I realized 20 seconds to cutoff that I hadn't wrapped up. (... oops.)

So, I managed under pressure. Maybe not my emotions, but I managed. And it's nothing that can't be completely forgotten and laughed about in a night spent watching sports at Zembie's or Wii bowling. And it opens the door to show topics by the dozen.

'Local Lawmaker Punished for Honesty'

So, my political leanings aren't what you'd call "run of the mill."

On paper, I'm Libertarian. Basically, I'm kind of like, "OK, government, build my roads and stuff, but I can take care of me. Really. Just back off."

Socially, I'm very liberal. Fiscally, I'm very conservative. This often provides great fire for debate.

However, liberal or conservative, Republican or Democrat, you get my undying support if you're just honest.

Let's take my pal, beleaguered Republican Idaho Sen. Larry Craig for example.

Dude, it's cool. You were trolling for ass in an airport bathroom. I'm for you and your right to happiness. Just don't be a douche about it when you're caught. Nut up. Take responsibility. Move on. Don't go on TV and cry. Don't toss about the idea of rehab. For the love of God, don't say you've found Jesus. Just shrug your shoulders, smile sheepishly and say, "Eeesh, sorry 'bout that. It seemed like a great idea at the time."

That's why this story caught my eye:

OLYMPIA, Wash. (AP) - Minority House Republicans, already reeling from a sex scandal that prompted one member to quit, have severely disciplined a Vancouver lawmaker for inappropriate remarks to a female staffer.
Rep. Jim Dunn was stripped of all committee assignments on Monday, and will be required to attend sensitivity training, said House Minority Leader Richard DeBolt, R-Chehalis. Dunn had been the ranking Republican on the Housing Committee, and sat on the powerful House spending committee.
"We know that society has moved beyond off-color remarks between men and women," DeBolt said Monday evening. "We're big kids, so we need to act like that."
The strength of the discipline raised the possibility that Dunn could resign.
Dunn, reached at home Monday evening, said he had not read DeBolt's letter of reprimand. Dunn said he had no plans to resign.
Dunn said he already has apologized to the woman who was the target of his remark, which came at a gathering after a House Appropriations subcommittee meeting in the Tri-Cities last week.
Dunn also said he could not exactly recall what he said to the woman, but said he was "sure it was very inappropriate, because I do that kind of thing." He also acknowledged it could have been interpreted as sexual harassment.

Thank you, Jim Dunn. Thank you for your honesty. Rather than hemming and hawing and giving a bunch of "aww, jeez, I mean, Um ... well, I wouldn't say ... well, in that context, um, uhhh," you stood up and said (in some fashion), "Yeah, it's not UNlike me to call someone sugartits."

I salute you.

Six hours. (You don't get them back, but you don't forget them)

Tonight I was going through a couple of boxes to unpack and I found a newspaper from Syracuse.

I lived in Syracuse (and Binghamton, N.Y.) for the better part of a year -- Syracuse exclusively for almost four months.

My shift at the Post-Standard as a copy desk intern was odd. My days off were Tuesday and Wednesday -- a real party, I assure you. The hours I worked were just as strange to non-newspaper types: 5 p.m. to 1:30 a.m.

This was an odd life while it lasted. We'd hang out after work and before you know it, it's 4 a.m. I'd go home, watch NY 1 (God, I miss you, New York) and by the time you're actually tired, it's almost 6 a.m.

I'd sleep until 11 a.m. when "L.A. Law" would come on.

Yes, that's right.

"L.A. Law."

I'd watch back-to-back episodes on Lifetime while I ate my Wegmans leftovers. Around 1, I'd get in the shower and get ready. I'd drive to Wegmans in Fayetteville, buy a New York Post and eat lunch and read the paper.

It really is as glamorous as it sounds. But there was comfort in that kind of routine. Lazy days, busy shifts, long nights.

One that sticks out in my mind is what came to be known as "Amy Fisher Day."

I love trainwrecks. The bigger the wreck, the more I love. I was only 13 when all of this happened back in 1992, but I remember being fascinated by it. And then confused when I saw what Joey Buttafuoco looked like. Chicks were willing to kill for that guy? What? I probably hit the "You have problems" stage when I actually went out and bought the book, "Amy Fisher: My Story" and read it in one sitting.

(In the interest of full disclosure, I also read "Monica's Story" from front to back in one day.)

On one beautiful, sunny Sunday morning, I woke up to Lifetime. Best I can tell, there was an infomercial I was watching and I clocked out during. Probably for something like the JuiceTiger or maybe some kind of clothing steamer.

At 10 a.m., however ...

A marathon.

Three movies. Six hours.

ALL THREE AMY FISHER MOVIES!!

It started off with "Lethal Lolita (Amy Fisher: My Story)", which tells this tale from Amy's point of view. Amy is played by Noelle Parker and Ed Marinaro plays Joey.
* Note: This has the best Joey. Ed Marinaro puts the other two to freakin' shame.

At noon we rocked "Casualties of Love: The Long Island Lolita Story", which is the Joey Buttafuoco side of the story. This starred Alyssa Milano as Amy and Jack Scalia as Joey.
* Note: I'd give this one the "Best Amy" award -- Alyssa NAILS this role. It probably wasn't much of a stretch.

The piece de resistance of this trilogy was simply "The Amy Fisher Story", which prides itself on being the neutral account. This stars Drew Barrymore as Amy and some guy I've never heard of named Anthony John Denison as Joey. This is by far the least memorable of the three.

I didn't leave my room for the entire six hours. I was captivated. It was like time had just stopped and I was basking in all of this tabloid trash glory.

I went to work that night so proud of what I'd accomplished, but nobody seemed to get it. To this day, I haven't found anybody who really gets it -- why I gave up six hours of my life like that to TV that sucks on a subject that's just a complete and utter disaster.

But that's part of my genetic makeup, I think. I don't mind losing hours of my life to pursuits others find wasteful.

But if anybody's looking for a Christmas idea, I bet you could find the DVDs of these on Amazon. And you can come over and watch them on my Man TV.

The "I'm Not Sayin', I'm Just Sayin'" of the year

From today's Charleston Daily Mail:

State education official says his "redneck" remarks were taken out of context

by Justin D. Anderson
Capitol Reporter

A top state education official acknowledged that he used the phrase "four-wheel riding, dope-smoking, alcoholic rednecks" to describe a lifestyle that impedes student progress.

But Kenna Seal, who heads up the state Office of Education Performance Audits, said he was not talking about Lincoln County.

"I used those words, but I didn't call the people in Lincoln County that," Seal said. "I used those words to describe a lifestyle that I have noticed in places across the country and even in West Virginia."

Members of the Lincoln school board contend that Seal was harshly criticizing the county and have asked him to apologize.

Here's the thing -- he's not altogether wrong. And what they taught me at that fancy journalism school is that the best defense against libel is the truth.

He certainly doesn't get any style points on this one, and to be honest, it's not just Lincoln County. He should spend some quality time in Logan, Mingo, McDowell ... Wirt, Ritchie, Doddridge ... I mean, it's pretty much the whole state.

That's sure to piss off most West Virginians, but you know what? Prove him wrong. Because from where I sit, I can't see that he's saying anything that's patently false.