I Don't Do Essay Contests ...

Someone posted an old saying on Facebook that sums up my radio career: "Good Judgment comes from experience, and experience? Well that comes from poor judgement."

Multitasking ...

In one of my first OM/PD gigs, the Promotions Director had quit, and I was left to do the job until we, or more accurately, I could find a replacement. Therefore, until such time, I had to do my midday shift, program and promotions.

Me, Myself, And I ...

I had come up with an essay contest for high school students around the theme of a hit song on Columbia Records. First prize was $1,000. The Columbia regional music rep in the Carolinas (John Green) and I coordinated the contest rules, students started sending in their essays, and the winner of the three-week contest was to be announced on the morning show. I don't remember the song, but I do remember the overwhelming number of essays that had to be read; there was a weary few of us responsible enough to assist in reading everything.

And The Winner Is ...

The big day came and the morning show announced the name of the winner without any problems ... or so I thought. Immediately after, we read live liners twice an hour to promote who won. Doing the job of three people had taken a toll on me and somehow, I had misplaced the winning essay. I was frantic and then the receptionist buzzed me and said the mother of the winner was on the phone. I breathed a sigh of relief, because the winner had an unusual last name, so I knew it was her mom. In fact, after talking with her, I found the essay ... or so I thought.

Good Mom ... Bad Dad ...

Over the next week the mother expressed how excited she was for her daughter and she told me about the bad divorce she had gone through with her daughter's father -- who had remarried and had another family. Nevertheless, she had wanted him at the dinner where we were to award her daughter. Did I mention I had given the winning essay to the regional rep, so he could have New York cut a check in the young lady's name?

Celebration ... Sadness ... Are You Serious?

The dinner took place at an Olive Garden and the morning show, the Columbia rep, the mother and daughter, and I were all waiting on the father. He had called the day after I had discussed the details of the dinner for his daughter with her mom, his ex-wife. However, I passed his number over to the rep because, based on what the mother had told me, I thought he was a jerk and let the rep handle him. This diplomatic approach in handling the two ex's and their daughter's big day went on for weeks; me talking to the mom and the rep dealing with the dad.

Award Day ...

The day arrives for the dinner and the rep, the morning personalities, and I thought it would be best to greet everyone on the inside of the restaurant by the hostess stand with a little sign bearing the station's name. First comes the mom, her daughter (the essay winner) and her son. The Morning crew escort them to the table. The rep and I are now waiting on the father. Here he comes, and he brought his new wife and family with a girl who looked to be the same age as his daughter; we glanced at each other in shock that this guy would put everyone in such an awkward position. Besides, this was a time to set aside whatever problems he had with his ex and celebrate their daughter's good fortune.

He Said ... She Said ... Who Are these People?

We walked them to the table and everything felt strange, he didn't acknowledge his essay winning daughter or his ex-wife. Prior to meal, the rep gave a speech and awarded the check to the young lady. Meanwhile the father and his new family looked annoyed and began whispering to each other. I was getting upset and the morning co-host who had been pestering me since I sat down, kicked me under the table and put her hand over my mouth before I could say anything and whispered, "We've been trying to tell you that these are two separate families with the same last name."

Huh?

What the rep and I assumed was callous indifference, was simply people with the same last name who didn't know each other. He and I took the father aside and told him there had been a mix-up and to please bear with us. Somehow, I had pulled two letters and the rest ... I don't know.

Bless Our Hearts ...

The rep and I called New York and explained the situation to his boss Eddie Pugh. I still remember his words, "How did you two geniuses manage to do this?" It all worked out and later that week Columbia gave another $1,000 to the other young lady, too. Honestly, to this day neither the rep or I could ever figure out how it could have happened.

Conclusion ...

It's no wonder why I repeat my directions to others so much and obsess on making sure everyone involved in planning receives the same information. On a personal note, I have never again been involved with any essay contests.