Stale Stories

11/25/1994

Our brilliant, newly promoted Editor-In-Chief Jeff Silberman came up with the concept of this week’s magazine…the leftover issue. It is an interesting concept, based on the American tradition of Thanksgiving leftovers and the Network 40 tradition of the necessity of publishing when Thursday is a holiday. In order for Network 40 to arrive on your desk more or less on the same day as usual, we have to go to press one day earlier. This means we have one less day to prepare the cutting-edge editorial content that you have grown to know and love.

So Jeff, (you remember, the newly promoted Editor-In-Chief) came up with this “left over” concept. To aid our writing (i.e. to make it easier), we would fill the magazine with leftovers. On the surface, it’s a great concept. You put into the magazine all of the things that were, for one reason or another, left out during the past year. There’s only one problem: I haven’t left anything out…or at least anything I could write about.

I could write about the VP of Promotion who had an interesting experience on a long road trip. This guy stayed at the most expensive hotel…as VPs always do. Most of the hotels have maids who turn down the beds at night and place mints on the pillows. Instead of mints, this particular hotel leaves a large chocolate candy with nuts. Upon returning to his room after a late night of drinking with the local program director, the VP fell immediately into bed and went to sleep. As the next day was Tuesday, he was up early making calls. He didn’t take a shower, just put on a robe and sat down at the table in the living room of the suite. When the maids came to make up the room, he was on the phone and just waved them inside. One of the maids went to the bed, turned back the covers and saw a huge, brown stain (with nuts) on the sheets and began gagging. Realizing what the maid thought, the VP tried to explain, but she threw up on his feet.

I could write about that…but it’s pretty gross.

Or I could write about the program director of a major market station who wanted to send off his departing morning man with a great going-away present. Instead of the same, lame parties and gifts, this PD came up with the idea of bring several sheep into the control room during the jock’s last few breaks. Unfortunately, the sheep were a bit agitated at seven o’clock in the morning and lost control in the lobby, urinating and defecating all over the new carpeting.

Unknown to the PD, the general manager picked up the new owner at the airport that morning. The GM spent the entire trip to the station explaining what a professional organization he ran. The new owner was a bit suspect of Top 40 radio and had his doubts about continuing the format. By the time they arrived at the building, however, the GM believed he had turned the owner around. That is, until they walked into the lobby.

I can’t write about that because it is a sad story. The GM fired the PD. The owner fired the GM. And the sheep went back to the zoo.

Then there is the story of the new act, signed to a large label, who went on a promotional tour. A major station had added the record out-of-the-box and the label wanted to show appreciate by having the group play at a station event in a local nightclub. The place was packed and everyone was drinking heavily, including the members of the band. After the set, the singer and lead guitarist grabbed two “willing” ladies and went backstage. It turns out the ladies weren’t as “willing” as the band members thought and it got ugly in the dressing room. Some clothes were ripped and threats were made, but the manager stepped in and averted something more serious. The PD and MD were surprised when they went into the dressing room and found their respective wife and fiancée upset and crying because the two had been “attacked” by band members. The VP Promotion was not, however, surprised when the record was dropped from the playlist. The promotion tour, and the act, were cancelled.

Of course, I couldn’t write about that. Any more than I could write about the program director who invited his independent record promoter to visit the market and meet his new wife. Of course, the indie flew in and was quite surprised to be introduced to a beautiful young lady. Surprised, because the PD was much older than his new bride. And much uglier. The PD went to great lengths to express his love for his wife. He told the indie how he was hopelessly in love, how the new “Mrs.” Had changed his life and how they would live happily ever after. The indie was elated to see the PD happy. He was less elated, however, at dinner when the bride, while the PD wasn’t looking, ran her hand up his leg.

It got worse when the PD went to the bathroom. His bride leaned over and whispered in the indie’s ear, “Tonight, after my husband goes to sleep, I’m coming to your room to make mad, passionate love to you.”

The PD returns and begins the drive to his home. The indie insists on staying at a nearby hotel. The PD will hear nothing of it. He wants the indie to spend the night so he can find out how well his new wife makes breakfast.

The indie is shown upstairs to his room and is doomed when he sees there is no lock on the door. Long minutes turn into an hour and the house is quiet. The he hears footsteps creaking on the stairs.

The door opens and the PD’s wife enters. Even in the moonlight, he can see she’s wearing nothing but a robe. And she wasn’t wearing that very long. Now naked, she throws herself on the bed. The indie tries to fight her off, to reason with her, but she’s having none of it. She’s young, beautiful and naked. But she’s also the PD’s wife. If the PD finds out, the indie is done.

Then, the worst happens. The PD enters the room and finds his new wife and the indie naked in bed together. He screams and cries and runs down the stairs. The indie follows, trying to explain. In the living room, the PD breaks into laughter. He explains that the young lady isn’t his wife, only someone he hired for the evening to play a joke on the indie.

It worked. We assume the indie got paid.

Those are all stories I could have written, as leftovers, but of course, I can’t. So I guess I’ll just leave this column blank.