The Jeff & Jer Showgram

Gutsy: that’s the word my family uses to describe much of my behavior. At the time of execution it just feels normal to me. In retrospect, I think it’s more accurately described as “reckless.” It isn’t dangerous per se, as in bodily harm. It’s more like fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, come-up-with-a-crazy-idea-and-go-with-it-regardless-of-how-embarrassing-or-risky-it-might-be kind of way. It definitely produces incredible experiences and consequently fabulous memories. It’s like life is just plugging along when all of a sudden I decide it's not exciting enough and so I get it in my head that I want to do something to give it a little bit of variety: it usually has an element of crazy, an element of comedy, and an element of uncertainty. And somehow it all comes together, for better or worse.

For this confession, I have chosen to omit names in order to protect the innocent. I feel it interrupts some of the flow, but I want to try to respect the privacy of the individual involved, even if I didn't pay him the same courtesy seven years ago. The chances of him stumbling across this blog are rare, but still…if he does by chance get wind of this, I only hope he’ll think it’s funnier than he did the first time around.

So, yes, there was this boy. Don’t all good stories start that way? I was 20. That should excuse most of the behavior I’m about to relate. He and I were set up by a mutual friend even though we lived in separate states (let’s just call his Utah for convenience sake). I found myself “in the neighborhood” every four to six months, as members of my family were currently living there as well as several friends from college who had recently relocated. Whenever I would go up, we would go out. Whenever he was visiting our friend in San Diego, we would go out. We had a good time and got along great, but we lived in separate states. We had never talked about the possibility of actually dating but I think, at least for me, it was always tucked away in the back of my mind. There may have been potential, but given the circumstances it just wasn’t going to happen.

At the end of one particular visit, he provided me with a copy of his band’s newest CD. Being the supportive friend I was, I always listened and enjoyed. I found myself asking him if they had ever tried to get their stuff on the radio. I don’t really remember his response, but it had something to do with one of the band members trying but not having a lot of luck. Whatever it was, it prompted me to say, “You know, what do you want to bet I could get your band on the radio?” To my surprise, he simply shook his head and smiled and said, “Julie, I don’t doubt you could.” Well that’s not any fun, I thought. At the height of my young, immature and competitive state, I couldn’t see the point of exerting extensive effort towards anything someone actually thought I could do. Where was the challenge in that? I shrugged and said, “Well, it would be funny at any rate if I did,” and then dropped it, which I think in retrospect is exactly what he wanted.

I was home a few days later, sitting in my modern literature class, bored to tears. My mind drifted back to the idea of the band and the radio. Despite his certainty of my success, I was doubtful. I had pulled off some great stuff in the past, but nothing quite like this or on quite this scale. After class I decided I had nothing to lose; I went to the computer lab and crafted an email to the Jeff & Jer Showgram, a popular morning radio show that frequently entertained off-the-wall ideas. (I once won a burping contest on their show…but that’s another blog entry for another day.) I listened to them frequently and thought if anyone was up for something like this, it would be them. The only problem was I had to come up with a gimmick, something that would get me past the normal email traffic. I knew exactly what would sell these guys. I weaved an engaging story (I know what you're thinking. Me? Weave a story? Shocking!) about having a crush on my friend and that maybe if I did something really great like get his band on the radio perhaps something more would come of it. The email was pretty funny (at least I thought it was – I wish I still had it to share here in all its glory, but alas…) but as good as it was I honestly didn’t think anything would come of it. It gave me something to do for the afternoon and I went on with my day.

I checked my email later that night and was floored to find there in my inbox a response from the show’s producer; he wanted to meet me and hear the band’s CD. I thought perhaps he was blowing smoke, but sure enough when I called the studio the next morning, we set up a meeting for the following day.

To say I was nervous would be too simplistic a description. I felt that slightly ill twinge in the pit of my stomach, mixed with this intense nervous energy that made my heart thump slowly but emphatically. I knew I had to play the adulating groupie (ugh) if I wanted any chance at getting my friend’s band on the radio. An intern escorted me down a sterile white hallway and into the studio. The producer’s office was separated from the show’s hosts by a large plate-glass, sound-proof window; the show was piped into this room so we could hear everything that was going on without disturbing them with our conversation. He asked me a series of questions in between screening callers during open phones, talking to the radio personalities during commercial breaks, and generally running the show. During a segment in which he wasn’t needed, he listened to a clip of my friend's band.

“Not bad,” he said, eyeing me skeptically. “Does your mom know you’re hanging around with boys who play with guitars?” I just laughed and assured him I was perfectly safe. Not satisfied, he grilled me a little bit about his background. I tried to keep it light and cool and as vague as possible. While I spoke, he looked at the CD cover and band photos closely. “Hmm,” he said, without looking up. “He looks and sounds like a good Christian boy if you ask me.” I couldn’t help but laugh again and sort of nodded my head and shrugged my shoulders in uncommitted agreement. He considered the situation for a moment and then proceeded to formulate a rough plan. We were in!

“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking.” He decided to slot us for the following Friday, “because Fridays are fun days and everyone listens on Fridays.” As the plan unfolded, I realized he expected me to be in the studio, participating. I gulped. All of a sudden this "hilarious" idea wasn’t so funny. I had envisioned myself sitting at home, waiting for a song or two to come on the air, recording it and then sending my friend the tape as proof that I really am that good. Presence in the studio was one step away from participating live which was something I was not interested in doing. Tommy didn’t fill in all the details because he wasn’t even sure of them himself, but on my way out he said, “Oh, and make sure you have your boyfriend on standby just in case the guys decide to call him.”

I whipped around and croaked, "Call him?! Live?"

Tommy gave me a satisfied smile, said, “See you Friday!” and turned back to the show, leaving me to find my way out. I felt ill as I started to realize the ramifications of putting my friend on the radio, especially given the story I had given these guys to get the ball rolling in the first place. What had I gotten myself into? I should have backed out right then and there.

But I didn’t.

The week passed slowly, but before I knew it, Thursday night had arrived. I didn’t sleep one wink. I spent the night thinking about my options: I could warn my friend about the phone call, but then that would tip him off to the whole thing and the surprise would be spoiled. I could just discourage Jeff & Jer from placing the call altogether and pray they listened. I didn't even want to think about option three, which was figuring out what on earth I would say to him if they didn't.

By Friday morning I made a decision: I was going to wing it. I have since determined this is never a good idea when it involves live radio, two loose canons for radio show hosts, an unsuspecting male friend, and one girl with underdeveloped wit and poise (I’ve made great strides over the last seven years). I drove slowly to the studio and sat in my car for five or ten minutes before gathering the courage to go inside. I was escorted back down that sterile white hallway and into the studio. Little Tommy had just finalized the bit with Jeff & Jer. They decided that it would be funny to stage a “fake tape” for this guy to make it sound like they had “discovered” his band. They were going to act as if they had played the entire CD the day before and that they were taking listener feedback that morning. They would play a couple of songs, get a few listeners to call in and gush about the music, and make it sound like this total Napster phenomenon. I thought, "Okay, totally doable." No problem. Then he handed me the phone and said, “Call him.”

“Huh?” I was confused. I thought we were sending him a fake tape, thus precluding the need to call him.

“Call him.”

“Who? My friend?”

“Yes. We’ll put him on hold so he can listen to the whole thing live. Then we’ll put him on the radio and you two can talk.”

“Talk? Live? About what?”

“You can tell him how you feel! Won’t that be great?!” He was grinning from ear to ear. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t eaten any breakfast.

“No, no, no. This will not be great. Tommy, we've never talked about it. I don’t think this is a very good idea.” This was, in fact, a very bad idea (I know every guy reading this is nodding his head in agreement). Me, the open book; I was sure that under pressure I would subject myself to some kind of self-coerced confession of undying crush on live radio in my home town.

He looked at my very seriously and said, "Julie, we need good radio. You can’t back out now. This bit is starting now. Whatever you do, don't choke. Be animated…just be yourself. It’s great. This story is great. That's why we're putting you on the radio." All I could think about were all the people I knew who were listening and how I was going to explain all of this.

I was ushered into the studio and introduced to Jeff & Jer, the main personalities, and Laura, the show’s gossip/fashion correspondent, traffic person, and token female. Tommy told me that after they introduced what they were going to do (by reading my email on the air!) and got some callers on hold, I would place the phone call to my friend, tell him I’d gotten his band on the radio, then put him on hold so he could hear the whole thing live. My voice was shaking uncontrollably when I called him. He was a little bit confused (he sounded like he had just woken up) but I didn’t have time to explain. Tommy took the phone out of my hands, put him on hold, and pointed to the empty chair at the head of the table in the studio. I was to sit there, put on the headphones and talk directly into the microphone when it was time. (I have to admit that even as I’m writing this, seven years later, my heart is pumping wildly!) Despite my dread at the prospect of having an unwanted and ill-timed DTR on live radio, as I took my seat and put on my headphones, I felt a thrill of excitement shoot through me. I had done it! They were playing one of the best songs on the CD for all of San Diego to hear. The callers were ridiculous and funny, Jeff & Jer were on their A-game, and I was actually enjoying myself.

Then the bit ended. It was time to bring my friend on the air. Enjoyment over. Only, he wasn’t on the phone anymore. Tommy had accidentally hung up on him (I think) and the guys didn’t want to take the time to place the call again, but we still had about five minutes left on the show. Jeff & Jer, having finished their bit, decided to turn the foiled DTR into an interrogation, led by Laura, the gossip-maven. She didn’t waste any time.

How did we meet? How long had we known each other? When was I going to see him next? Was he my boyfriend? Did I want him to be my boyfriend? Had he kissed me? My mortification increased with each subsequent question. I kept thinking of Tommy’s admonition for “good radio” and so I tried to answer her questions as animatedly as possible, praying he would never hear the words coming out of my mouth. (Never mind the fact our mutual friend taped the entire show for him...) At 8:30, the show was over. I was released. They thanked me for coming in, asked me to keep them informed of the situation, and sent me on my way. Tommy took a picture of me next to their "Star" wall and posted my picture and the CD cover on their website for the morning. It was over.

I walked out of the studio thinking, “Nothing, absolutely nothing will ever top this.” So far, I’ve been right; I've made sure of that. But I still have a whole life to live, not to mention an adventurous spirit. :)