Broadcasting Schools-Inside traxx: Diary of DJ Sisyphus

Broadcasting Schools-Romance, Recruiting and Retrospect

After catching sight of my current love interest´s father at the same moment I had my arm around another girl, it was tempting to just grab my amp and make a dash for it. But I couldn´t.

I´d just been fired from my record store job, so my only hope of staying in broadcasting school was DJ gigs like the one I was currently on. Dating Lucy, the broadcasting school receptionist, had me on thin enough ice as it was. The wedding went by in a blur, and I was glad to have an excuse to avoid both Lucy and the Reverend, Keisha´s father, as I hopped into the DJ booth to get the reception party kicked off. Time to put my broadcasting school training to work! Pulling my hooded sweatshirt low over my funky suit, I busied myself queuing up the fierce dance track list I had prepared, praying that a fist four times the size of my face wouldn´t suddenly come down and throttle me. I leaned low and intoned into the mic like DJ Loco taught me in broadcasting school. "Let´s get this party started," I said.

As the bride and groom took the dance floor for the first dance, I started to relax. From my little DJ perch, wearing my hoodie, I was pretty much unreachable. The Reverend was clearly a man of God and wouldn´t dream of disrupting a marriage ceremony to throw down with a young whippersnapper like myself. I was beginning to think I´d live to see my next broadcasting school class after all.

At that moment, I heard a tiny voice say, "Hey sir, how did you get to be in that box?" I looked down and saw a small curly haired boy gazing up at me. I had to smile at his words. "I´m a disc jockey," I explained. "I got here because my broadcasting school set me up with the gig. This is called spinning." "I want to come in the box with you," said the little guy, and something about his serious little expression touched me in the hectic hour. "Sure," I said, scooting over. "C´mon in." Scrambling in, he pulled his little striped socks up and cocked his head. "I like it in here," he said. "I´m Charley." "Nice to meet you, Charley," I said. "I´m Simon.""So, " said Charley, peering up at me with gray eyes. "Why did your broadcasting school put you in a box? Were you bad?" I laughed for the first time that day, and that´s when I felt the heavy hand on my shoulder.

My heart threatened to jack-in-the-box from my chest. But the heavy hand wasn´t the Reverend´s. It was Mr. Simmons, the guy who had interviewed me from KMPU in my pre-broadcasting schools days. The one who said I didn´t have enough "experience." What was he doing there? And what could he possibly want? I was about to find out. "Hello there, Steven," he said clearing his throat. "It´s Simon," I corrected, warily removing my headphones. I crossed my arms and leaned back. If there´s one thing broadcasting schools had taught me so far, it was cool under pressure. And boy was I putting that skill to use lately! "Right," Mr. Simmons said, shifting his weight. "I just wanted to say I´ve been watching you here today, and I might have some work for you after all." "Really?" I said, not sure how to respond. I mean, six months ago, I had been desperate to work there. But now, I was enrolled in broadcasting school and felt like I was on the way to a pretty bright future-provided the Reverend didn´t pulverize me first. "And, we might have some things to discuss," he said, sliding something over to me. As he walked away, I discreetly looked in my hand. It was his business card.