Things have been rather tense at the ol’ Radio Ranch lately.
A few months ago we heard rumor that our network had just lost our biggest client, one of the nation’s largest radio groups. We heard about it first in an online trade magazine since, of course, the “communications industry” does not communicate directly with its employees.
The rumor turned out to be true. The radio group’s contract was up for renewal, but we were underbid by a start-up network. Starting this morning, April 1st, we are no longer on their airwaves for the first time in almost 30 years. Thirty years! .
I can’t tell you what a big deal this is for our company. About a third of our radio announcers are employed exclusively to service this group, with almost another third performing ancillary functions for them. Come this morning, they have nothing to do.
But here’s the weird thing. None of us have been told what to do. You’d think someone in management would mention, at least in passing, which of us should come to work on Monday and which of us should grab our passport because we’re being given a one-way ticket to Dumpsilvania.
As I mentioned a few posts back, we lost everything in the Crash of ’07. Ten years later we’re at least no longer contemplating letting Chinese black marketers harvest our organs so we can make a mortgage payment. But we’re not so far out of the woods yet that we’ve taken them off speed dial, either. If I lose this gig, some hard choices await us. Like: food or porn. Can’t have both, at least not with the severance package our union negotiated.
Needless to say, I can’t breathe.
The same thoughts keep spinning around in my head. Middle aged. No real skill other than the ability to talk for hours non-stop about absolutely nothing. Overweight. Halitosis. Bad fashion sense. Addicted to midget porn.
And that’s just my wife. I’m even worse.
Forgive me if this isn’t/wasn’t much of an entry. I really am almost paralyzed by fear here. Yeah, I might be one of the lucky ones they keep on. But because the consequences will be so dire if I’m not, you know that’s all my brain keeps running in a continuous loop. I mean, what will I do if I’m kicked to the curb? There are no radio jobs out there any more, and it’s been so long since I cooked professionally I’d have to start back as Vomit Cleanup Boy again.
I guess I could prostitute myself. It may not be the most stable of professions, but at least it’s all-you-can-eat, and you set your own hours. And NewWifey(tm) is almost ridiculously over qualified to be my pimp, seeing as she’s already armed and owns a hat with a long peacock feather in it. All I’d really need to do is find an emergency care proctologist who takes my HMO.
Can I sigh again here?
On the other hand, there was one bit of brightness that broke through my inner gloom this morning.
I steeped a couple of Earl Grey teabags in a cup of hot water to make a double-strong brew, then used that liquid to make some breakfast buns for NewWifey(tm). (This is all part of my ongoing “if it doesn’t kill the yeast, you can make bread out of it” experiment.)
Check it out:
I had a lot of fun making these, playing around with different shapes and sizes. Basically, I broke the dough into smaller balls, rolled those balls into flat ribbons, sprinkled each ribbon with a bit of brown sugar, then rolled each back up. Oh – and I zested some orange peel into the dough. Gave them more of a Lady Grey flavor than straight Earl Grey, if you’re up on your tea flavors.
They came out really good, although next time I think I’ll skip the zest. I love the bergamot flavor of Earl Grey, and the orange kinda overwhelmed it a bit. Also, they never browned as much as loaf bread made from the same (non-tea) dough, even though the internal temperature hit the same 195. Maybe it was…actually I have no idea. They just didn’t brown as much as bread. Didn’t affect the crumb or flavor, though. NewWifey(tm) was eating them like a chipmunk, stuffing new ones in her cheeks before swallowing the first one. They were good.
Ok, breakfast is over and I can’t think of anything else to write. So…back to worrying.
Wish me luck.