A less than perfect view.

One of the many lessons I learned late in my radio career is that you should always see where you're going to work before you take the job.  The station, located 50 miles from our target audience, sat smack in the middle of a horse pasture.  I was convinced the surrounding dark woods were occupied by squatting moonshiners, toothless serial killers, and walk-ons from the movie,  “Deliverance.”

One morning, while driving to the station, I narrowly missed hitting a sow.  That’s right, a sow, as in female pig.  The sow was so large that two grown adults could have easily ridden on its back.  Hitting the sow was not an option, so, I slammed on the brakes causing everything on the front seat to crash against the glove compartment then spill onto the floorboard below.  The sow must have heard or sensed the commotion, because it stopped, glared at me and ever so slowly moseyed on its way across the dirt road.

When I got off the air that morning, I wanted to call and congratulate a fellow broadcaster who had recently landed a job at a very prestigious radio station in Chicago.  Looking for privacy, I went into the production room.  In most radio stations, the production room is extremely important and no expense is spared in assuring it is soundproof.  The floor is carpeted, the walls are covered with sound absorbing materials and the door seals so tight a whooshing noise is heard as it opens. This particular production room was converted from a narrow, walk-in closet that had a picture window at the far end covered with an old, discolored blanket.  It was about as soundproof as the campfire scene in "Blazing Saddles."  Seriously, one time someone walked by while I was recording a commercial, broke wind outside the room and I had to start over. 

I reached my friend and said, "I almost hit a huge pig driving to work this morning."  After he stopped chuckling, he said, "I almost hit a BMW."  After we hung up, I started to record a commercial.  I had to stop and start over several times because I kept hearing a rubbing or bumping noise coming from what I thought was the direction of the door.  I got up and opened the door, fully prepared to see a toothless moonshiner wearing a “Deliverance” t-shirt grinning back at me.  But, no one was there.  I heard it again and realized it was coming from behind the blanket.  Pulling back the blanket, it took me more than a few seconds to comprehend the sight I was beholding.  Right there, pressed up against the glass, was an enormous horse’s ass rubbing back and forth attempting to relieve a severe itch it just could not scratch.  I didn't even bother calling Chicago.