What If...

My road through life has seen its share of potholes, detours and yes, regrets. Still, taken as a journey still in progress, I can't say I'm dissatisfied with where the ride has taken me so far. Yet every so often something triggers my brain to go back and second guess some of the turns and decisions taken along the way. Yeah, I know, it's really dumb. Nevertheless, the other day a quick glance at a map of Texas put me in one of those Monday Morning Quarterbacking frames of mind again.

In January 1982, I was working at KGA in Spokane. I’d started there in 1980 as just a weekender. During the week I had two other jobs, one other in radio, punching tapes on KCKO, a God station just down the road from KGA, and in a north side sporting goods store selling hockey equipment. Not bad for a 20-something living in the early 1980’s. Jobs were hard to come by then. But I had three. And for awhile that was okay. I was young and could handle the workload and, though none of them paid well added together, they afforded me a fairly decent income.

 

I lived near the hockey store, and the radio stations were both on the Spokane’s South Hill so I had to do a lot of cross town commuting, spend a lot of money on gas. But even that was okay. Gas was a lot cheaper then. And having the opportunity to flap your gums on a 50, 000 watt flamethrower like KGA was like making the major leagues as a baseball ballplayer. I was really ‘in the show”. It rocked.

 

But, I had no life.

 

For the first six months, my weekly calendar looked like this: Monday through Friday, I worked in the hockey store from 9 in the morning till about 1 in the afternoon. After that, I ran across town to KCKO and ran the board from 2 p.m. till 6 in the evening. Weeknights were free. Then I had 4 KGA shifts on the weekend, Midnight to 6 a.m. Saturday morning, 6 to midnight Saturday night, 6 in the morning till noon on Sunday and 6 pm to midnight Sunday night. Then back to work at the hockey shop at 9 Monday morning and the cycle started over.

 

Occasionally KGA would call me during the week while at one of my other jobs or after I was home and ask if I’d do a last minute fill in shift. Sometimes it’d be for overnights, sometimes evenings, but it was always a scramble. Once I was almost in bed, but I always made it and never missed work at my other jobs. Even on the overnight fill-ins, I got off at 5 in the morning and opened up the hockey at 9. And because I’d been a dependable and hard worker, by the spring of 1981 KGA promoted me. Sort of.

I was moved to overnights “full time/part time”. That meant I was the full time host on the overnight show, Monday thru Thursday nights 11pm till 5 in the morning.  However, I still had my “part time“ hours on the weekends although they did shave off the early Saturday shift. And technically, I had Friday night off, although I got off the overnight shift at 5:00 Friday morning. About six months after that I was “promoted” again, this time from overnights to evenings, 6 pm to 11pm Monday thru Friday. But conveniently- for KGA, anyway- they still had me working the weekends 18 hours or so. Neither promotion came with a raise and always came with the stipulation, “until we find someone else.” Six months after doing the evening shift I was ‘demoted’ I guess, back to the overnights when they did ‘find someone else’.

Early on, after the first promotion, I had to quit the hockey store. It was just too much to work overnights and during the day, every day. But I stayed at KCKO as long as I could. It was five minutes from KGA’s studios and I had a friend working with me who’d cover and swap shifts with me whenever I had a conflict. Eventually, I had to give that job up too. Nevertheless, I was working a butt-load of radio hours. And gaining a butt-load of radio experience. Which had always been my goal.

I was just getting burned out.

Deemed a “full time, hourly employee” in a non-union shop, and working in a state with (at the time) fairly lax labor laws, KGA/ KDRK-FM could pretty much work me every night or day, 7 days a week. And they did, without having to pay me overtime, even though at the end of many- many- weeks, my time card was well north of 40 hours. Heck, I would’ve settled for time and a half. Or comp time. Or maybe just a night off. But they didn’t have the manpower, or wouldn’t go out and hire any,  and as long as I didn't work over 8 hours on any given day, KGA was being compliant with state employment rules and I wasn't subject to overtime.

I did wonder how they got away with it, especially since I had twin, six hour Sunday shits. But, as my boss Tom explained, "as long as you've got a 6 hour rest period in between, it's okay." It was okay? For him maybe. I was wearing out. And I liked Tom. He was a good guy. But the way he said it sounded as if KGA was doing me a favor for working my ass off. Or maybe he/KGA thought we were all stupid or just too grateful for the job to raise a fuss. Maybe that was simply the company line. Whatever. And I really didn’t want to complain because I enjoyed my co-workers, loved the ‘prestige’ of working at such a big station and was happy to be surviving financially. But sometimes, that place made me feel like an indentured servant.

Worse than that, though, after doing the grunt hours for so long (and pulling pretty good ratings, at least when I was on at a time when Arbitron said it mattered), I kept getting passed over for full time, real full time with benefits, 2 week’s vacation and maybe even a five day work week. But after each of my promotions, always predicated on ‘until we find somebody else’ they always did. Not just once, or twice, but three times. Twice by people hired after me, and the third time by a dude brought in from outside the company. That was a huge let down. Worse than overused, I felt unappreciated and disrespected.

So I decided to do something about it. I began tossing feelers around the Spokane market as to my “availability”. It certainly couldn't hurt and, if I got a nibble, well, maybe KGA would sit up and take notice. Maybe give me a raise. Ha-ha. Or reduce my workload. However, not much was percolating on the local front; certainly nothing any better than what I was already had. Then I began to expand my search, perusing the National trade magazines for openings outside the area. There, the pickings were a little more bountiful and, soon, my tape and resume was out to stations all over the country. I didn't really want to go anyplace else, but figured if I got an offer I might use it to gain some leverage for the next daytime opening at KGA. And on a Monday morning two weeks into the process, somebody took the bait.

I got a call from the program director of KDOK in Tyler Texas. The man's name was Mark and, being that he was calling from Texas, I expected hearing a drawl of some kind. Instead, he sounded almost like Al Gilson, KGA’s smooth voiced afternoon guy and one of my buddies. And that’s who I thought it was at first. But Al would probably be giving me shit; not buttering me up, like this Mark dude, telling me stuff I seldom heard out of the powers-that-be at KGA. Mark said he loved my tape and loved my experience. Being well known in country music circles and the broadcast industry in general, KGA’s reputation was second to none. And having 50,000 watts behind it didn't hurt either. So I had that going for me.

Mark was eager and impressed that somebody from a monster like KGA might want to come work "....for my little country station down here in the middle of no place". In fact, he was so impressed he had a one time, today only offer, just for me. KDOK's night guy had quit that very morning; just walked into the office and with no warning or explanation, resigned. Mark thought it had something to do with the guy's unstable personal life. Anyway the packet with my tape and resume had arrived over the weekend and was waiting on top of Mark's stack of mail. It was the first one he opened and after listening to my demo, decided I was exactly what he wanted.

The offer was the same deal his ex-night guy had-- full time, on the air 7 p.m. to midnight Monday through Friday, plus three hours of production and one weekend shift every other weekend. The entire package, with health and dental and two weeks’ vacation, started at 1100 dollars a month. That was about 300 dollars a month more than what KGA was paying. At first I said nothing, suggesting I thought my leg was being pulled, or the offer was too good to be true. But I was blown away, and thinking. However, not wanting to beat anymore around the bush, Mark leveled with me.

"Look, it's chaos around here this morning. I like how you sound and don't want to waste any more time wading through a pile of other applicants. I just don't have the time. Frankly, you'd be doing me a favor if you took the job. So it's yours if you want it." Hmmm. So much for beating a bunch of other guys out of the gig; Mark was in a bind, either in a hurry or just plain lazy. He didn't want me because I was good, or better than anyone else he'd heard. Mark only wanted me because, by luck, my envelope landed on top of everyone else's and what he heard was okay enough to fill the opening.

"But here's the deal. If you take it, I need you to start next Monday, that's a week from today. And you have to let me know before 5:00 Central Time, today. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to look local.”  Mark's call came in about 8:30 a.m. Pacific Time (10:30 am in Tyler), just as I was cleaning up after breakfast. Doing the math, that gave me about 5 and a half hours to make a decision and call him back. 

The proposal was flattering, though, and momentarily elevated my head to the clouds. I was being offered a real job for more money from somebody in my chosen field by someone who actually wanted me. Any young professional on his way up would kill for The KDOK gig. It was a dream job. I could love that job! Yet at the same time I also felt like someone had just dropped a dumbbell over my shoulders. Heck, I could barely decide what to eat for dinner on a good day. And now someone was asking me to come half way across the country to take a new job and decide before the sun went down. Geez, no pressure there. Yikes!

And where the hell was Tyler, Texas anyway? So caught up in the moment and the offer and its ramifications, I forgot to ask. After digging out an old Atlas, I found Tyler was a small dot on the Texas map somewhere southeast of a much bigger dot, which was Dallas. Dallas was a long way from Spokane- as the crow flies, about 1500 miles- and I only had a few short hours to decide if that's where I wanted to go; and if I did, had a very short time to get there. Like less than a week. That was a lot to think about. Nobody had ever dropped an offer like that in my lap before and, frankly, I had no idea how to respond.

Do I go or do I stay?

I dunno. But all morning long and into the afternoon I walked around with a trail of dread following me. I was convinced everything was riding on my answer; my life, my future, my career. Everything. And if I made the wrong decision, the consequences would be irrevocable. I was in turmoil. Spokane was home and I was comfortable there. My heart wanted to stay because I'd lived there for nearly ten years and had dozens of close friends I didn’t want to leave behind. And KGA was where I learned to be a professional broadcaster. I had wonderful memories of the community and a strong loyalty to the radio station. 

But my head said 'go' because I needed the extra money and career advancement it afforded me. Plus I could easily make new friends, be comfortable and develop new loyalties in a new place like Tyler, Texas too, couldn’t I? Yet the very idea of uprooting my life in less than a week terrified me. I wanted to hash it out with someone but knew what everyone would say:  Go. And why wouldn't they? It was a fantastic opportunity. I sure couldn't run it by Tom Newman, though. Tom had always been a friend but was now my boss, too. I didn't want to force him into a corner, promote me or I leave for Texas. Good grief, I wasn't that stupid.  And I was savvy enough to know KGA wasn't going to beg me to stay either. I was a serviceable jock, but was easily replaced.

I thought about calling home, but knew what Mom & Dad would say, too:  Go. However admitting to both parents I had to think about such a fantastic offer instead of jumping at it would merely confirm what they already knew- that I’d yet to reach adult maturity, was a screw-up and a disappointment. Or that's what I imagined them saying. I’ll never know, though, because I never called them.

Instead, after a tortuous morning and afternoon of internal deliberation, at a few minutes to three I called Mark back at KDOK and reluctantly informed him that I wouldn't be coming. I was single and 27 with nothing to tie me down except my house, which I owned and would’ve been easy to sell (but probably not in one week). But I used it as my answer and though logical and basically true, I knew it was also a spineless way out. Sure, the house was my anchor to Spokane. But I wasn’t so chained down that it’d completely prevent me from at least exploring the potential greener pastures out in Tyler, Texas. There were ways around the house. If I really wanted to go. And I guess I didn’t.  I guess I was afraid.  But outside of fear, what it all really boiled down to was whether I wanted to try making a new life in a new place, and making new friends, or sticking with the tried and true and safe.

And I guess at that point in  my life I just wanted to stay safe at home.

The call took about a minute. Mark wished me the best, said good bye and hung up. Before he did, part of me hoped he'd drool all over himself pleading for me to come. But the more pragmatic part wondered why I didn’t at least make a counter-offer: take less money in exchange for a little more time. If Mark really wanted me to come, would it hurt too much to ask for two or three weeks to get my affairs in Spokane cleaned up? It wouldn’t have been out of line to, at least, ask. But I said nothing and the line went dead. And as a rerun of "The Flintstones" played on the TV with the sound turned down, I hung my head and wondered what the hell I'd just done.

I’ve questioned myself about this a dozen times or more since that day. Did I make the right choice or not? Would it have been the start of an anxiety-riddled nomadic existence, drifting from Tyler than to another city then, then another, one radio station to the next, never putting down any roots, never establishing any close long lasting friendships and someday wake up in some far away outpost like Sandusky, Ohio with my best years gone and my life and career? Why would I give up a potentially long and happy life in Spokane for that?  

But what if I'd come to this crossroad and instead of the road well-traveled, thrown caution to the wind, been adventurous and brave and taken that road to Tyler?  Heck, it might've been a hoot. Maybe it’d have been a springboard to other opportunities, maybe even into a different line of work? But if not and I even if I hated it, three or six months later I could’ve bounced right back to Spokane. It is a free country after all. But what if I actually liked life in Tyler? And what if I’d met someone there; fell in love and lived happily ever after? Was I a doofus for staying put, close to home; or an idiot not to? Who knows? But I can’t go back and second guess myself either. It'd drive me nuts. Life now is what it is.

Still, I've often wondered, mostly on long sleepless nights, how my life would have turned out had I just said 'yes' that afternoon in January 1983. Would I have ever made it back to Spokane? And if not, would I have somehow ever made it here to Northern California, to Grass Valley, to KNCO, to EMF Broadcasting? Would I have ever found Jesus again or met the lovely Amy? By not going to Texas, did I make the right choice? Was there a right choice? The simple answer is, I don't know. I can't possibly know. Not in this life anyway. I just don’t know.

All I know for sure is that the answers to these and all my other life riddles and perplexities, like everyone else’s, won’t be revealed and won’t become clear until the ride I’m on now comes to a full and complete stop.