Jeffrey Alan Payne - Doczine

3 – Southern ComfortI got a part-time job at Z-Rock, in Grand Rapids, and worked there until I graduated fromuniversity with a degree in Communications. That was not the most universally soughtafter category of Bachelor Degrees at the time. In fact, no degrees were being pursuedby employers at that time. It was the eighties, and the United States had beenembroiled in one of the worst recessions in history, particularly Michigan where the BigThree Automakers were suffering more than any other industry.I had unknowingly exercised a characteristic of bad timing, a trait that would prove to bea common cornerstone for most of my adult existence. I graduated from university at thesame time that many seasoned professionals were out of work and desperately huntingfor any job available.I was twenty-two and took classes in advertising. I had also written and voiced ads forradio. I should be a natural to get gobbled up by some international ad agency thatwould rally around my every creative thought, only in anticipation for my next brainstorm.Ah, life was sweet, and I had arrived.It soon became apparent that I was: (A) delusional, (B) naïve, (C) poorly informed, or(D) all of the above. It turns out that it was a resounding and recurring (D). Oneemployment agency I went to nearly started laughing at the boardroom table. “Son,”they said, “we have twenty year ad executives looking for copywriting jobs right now. Itlooks like you’ve got some radio experience, why don’t you try that? I think you have tomake a tape of yourself.”“Thanks for the tip”, I thought. The problem was that I didn’t have the kind of credentialsthat make you a coveted talent acquisition for the cities that I dreamed of working in. If Istayed in Grand Rapids, there was no way I would work for any station but Z-Rock. Itwas the only rock station in town. I would have been humiliated to have all of myuniversity buddies hear me playing Anne Murray or Lionel Richie.On the other hand, staying at Z-Rock meant working part-time and waiting tables to payrent. I considered myself much too accomplished in establishing my media empire tosuccumb to non-glamorous labor. As a waiter, you don’t get free stuff and women onlysleep with you if they like you.The staff at Z-Rock had been in their timeslots for years; they were the best known andmost loved radio celebrities in the city. Barring the death of one of these on-air icons,there would be no full time openings at Z-Rock for years to come. Plus, I was young,ambitious, invulnerable and felt no loyalty to any broadcast company, girlfriend or familymember.My attitude was, “Watch me in awe. Yes, you can say that you actually worked with me,someday when my morning show in New York is syndicated in seventy-five markets andI’m hosting the Grammy Awards. What was your name again?”I put together a tape that I thought was a major market shoo-in, for sure. I borrowedcopies of Radio and Records, the perennially dominant trade publication of the radioindustry, and scoured the want ads. Of course being a stallion and brimming with talent,14