TANGENT SUNSET CLUELESS RADIO by Alex Cosper

Clueless Radio is a fictional story about an alternative station failing in ratings and sales but experiences occasional flashes of success. At one time the station had great ratings and dominated the market but a new regime with a new focus has erased the station's influence in the market. What could they be doing that is so wrong?

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Chapter 4: "Meeting Of The Melting Minds"

The only thing that kept a small but dissolving core audience listening to Clueless Radio was the hope that some day it would change back to sounding like it used to. But as the months went on, less and less people could remember "how good Clueless used to sound" according to a vocal critic here and there. More and more people, it seemed, were giving up on Clueless Radio "because of how lame it had gotten." Same tired recurrents, hardly any new music and lots of company favorites based on unchallenged research.

Paneela was sick of Clueless. Book after book, nothing but down, down, down. Paneela had run out of ideas on how to turn the station around. He had tried everything he knew and still couldn't get it done. The only thing he could feel good about was that he still had a gig. And that was only because he was constantly coming up with clever excuses and pre-determined scapegoats - that Heichman readily bought into. Heichman's agenda was to gain control of programming through a consultant. For whatever reason, the only person he trusted in that capacity was Paneela, probably because they went way back.

The clock was ticking and Paneela still hadn't heard back from the other guys about the other gig that was supposed to reach closure yesterday. Paneela even indicated to them that he wasn't "as expensive as most consultants." He was trying to negotiate before the negotiations began. True, the inverviews went well from a personable standpoint. But Paneela still hadn't considered all the red flags he had thrown up causing concern and reservations about his credibility. He had no winning track record to speak of and he seemed very uninformed about industry trends and developments.

He decided to get some rest a little after midnight. He fell asleep for twenty minutes and then the phone rang. "Who can be calling at this hour?" he wondered. "Hello?"

"Jeff, it's Wally. Look, I hate to bother you but we've got a problem. It's way past midnight and our overnight guy hasn't shown up for his shift. Python tells me that this is the second night in a row he hasn't shown up. Python, by the way, is upset that he has to stay here until we get someone in for the overnight. His girlfriend is waiting for him outside in the cold."

"Just flip it to automation," said Paneela, thinking he had resolved the issue.

"It's not that simple," said Heichman. "It appears there's a malfunction with the system that our over-paid engineer can't figure out. The automation shuts off automatically every ten to fifteen minutes. Even the damn geniuses at the software company can't fix it. And incidently, did you know we had dead air for an hour and a half after you yanked Jarz off the air? I found that out from a neighbor who listens to the station every morning.

"And by the way," Heichman continued, "where's Candy? I'll tell you where Candy is, she called me tonight and told me she had just been hired at THE WORM. She says she would rather work part-time at the lowest-rated station in the market than Clueless because of how her situation was mishandled, whatever that means. I also got a call from Jennifer's father. Now last I checked Jennifer still works for us. Anyway, it turns out...Jennifer's father...just happens to be...an attorney for the district attorney. He wants to schedule a meeting with me about who knows what. I can't exactly afford to deal with any more court cases. Now Jeff, I hate to dump all this on you at once, but come on, you should have seen some of this coming."

"You're absolutely right, Wally, I guess I got too wrapped up in blowing out Jarz. Let's talk in the morning. I'll be in early to do the music."

"No-no-no not so fast," said Heichman in a condescending tone. "We need someone right this minute for overnights. Now who do you suggest?"

"Um...um..." Paneela couldn't think of anybody.

"It's okay," said Heichman. "I'm willing to run the board for an hour and then hand it over to you. My disc jockey skills aren't that rusty and people always say I have a good speaking voice. Yes, I think we've got a plan. See you in one hour." Heichman slammed down the phone.

For a minute Paneela lay in bed motionless. He didn't want to get up and the last thing he wanted to do was a show on Clueless. For another minute he asked himself was it really worth it? After all, he had dirt on Heichman. He kept the arrest out of the newspapers plus he bailed him out. It seemed more like Heichman owed Paneela a favor than the other way around. Still, he thought, it's only 'til 6. Then he could schedule the music and come back home.

It didn't sound that complex. At least for a few seconds. But then Paneela suddenly realized that no one was scheduled for the morning show...or the midday show. This was going to be a marathon. Paneela's jaw opened wide like he was about to scream but nothing came out. His anger quickly merged into defeat as he realized he had neglected several responsilities. He began to drift back to sleep for five minutes. Then he shot back up out of bed and looked at the clock. He still had time.

In his car Paneela had the radio on Clueless. Heichman was about to go into his first break. The song began to fade. It kept fading. Then at the tail-end of the last ten seconds of the record the volume got really loud as the tinny sound crackled away. Now there was dead air. 30 full seconds of dead air...and counting. Then there were a few moments of headphone feedback. A voice began laughing nervously.

"I forgot to turn the mike on," said the awful sounding voice. "And I'm supposed to be a veteran at this."

Paneela couldn't believe what he was hearing so he flipped it to The Goldfish, the only form of alternative radio he could stomach. The Goldfish sounded like a safe soft sweet pop station that never took chances. To his surprise he heard Plato do a break. Then he flipped it to Steel 95 and he heard Jennifer do a break. Then he flipped it to Best Hits and he heard Tim Jarz do a break. Then he flipped it to The Worm and he heard Candy do a break. Then he flipped it back to Clueless and Heichman was still talking.

"My name is George Walbert Heichman, the General Manager of Clueless Radio. We're making a lot of changes here at Clueless. Why? Because you've told us to you and we're listening. We take pride in serving our community. That's why we're here. To serve you, the listener."

"Why can't he go by just Wally?" Paneela asked, madly talking to himself out loud. "Why did he have to say his full name and give out his title? Oh, because he's an imbalanced egotistical bird-brain, that's it. Since no one pays attention to him he has to call attention to himself. What an idiot."

Paneela turned down Heichman's continuous babble that sounded like mundane propaganda. Then he began to test his jock skills, to make sure he could still pull it off. "Clueless Radio..." He cleared his throat. Then his voice bounced into an awkward sing-song yet monotone delivery as he tried to talk like an upbeat jock, "Clueless Radio is your...less talk, more...more what? More Clueless hits. Or how about more Clueless number one hits? So okay, it's...Clueless Radio. I'm Jeff Paneela. No, that doesn't sound hip, besides I hate using my real name. How about just Jeff? No, I'll call myself The Amazing Dr. Marathon. No, that's stupid."

He turned up Heichman again who said, "Yeah, we're not going back into music for at least another...probably 45 minutes. That's when my good friend Jeff Paneela will be coming in to take you through the early morning hours until six o'clock. Then it's...well I don't know who's coming in. I guess it'll be a surprise. Then again, I'm sure Jeff Paneela knows the answer. Anyway, I'd love to get back into music but I'm not sure which button to press, so I'll let Jeff Paneela take us back to music. In the meantime, there are some interesting issues concerning the community that I'd like for you to at least be aware of..."

"Great," said Paneela, as he looked at the clock. "He's doing a talk show that he can't get out of. He thinks I'll be there in 45 minutes and that's not going to happen. Then he expects me to get us back to music. Like I have a clue." Paneela realized that this wouldn't be a normal show with lots of music. It was going to be an abnormal show with no music. And it was going to go on for hours and hours.

"This job is beating me down," he said, turning off the radio. He drove the rest of the way in total silence. When he walked through the control room door Heichman panicked for a split second because he had been putting live callers on the air and one caller threatened to come dowm to the station and kill Heichman if he didn't get back into music.

"You scared me," said a nervous Heichman. "Good thing it's only you. Ladies and gentlemen, we've got Jeff Paneela coming in next. So what are you going to talk with our listeners about this morning, Jeff?"

"Well," said the distinterested consultant, "it's going to be a long morning so I'm sure I'll cover a lot of things. I guess I'll just put callers on the air."

"Be careful," said Heichman. "I had a death threat earlier from a caller. But I don't think he'll be calling back. I reported it to the police...over the air."

"Great," said Paneela. "I'll try not to be too controversial. So any chance of getting into music this morning?"

"If you can figure it out, have at it." Heichman waved goodbye as he stepped out the door.

"Alright, it's the Jeff Paneela Show, where you are the star. Who's on the line?"

"Hi, it's Kathy. When is Plato going to be on?"

"Uh..." Paneela was at a loss for words. Then he just started rambling. "Plato was an ancient philosopher. His lifetime did not overlap with ours. He can only come back through studying history. That's my advice. Let's go to the next caller. Hi, Clueless, who's there?"

"It's Tammy. I want to hear 'I Hate U More And More' by The Sqwirlheadz. Can you get that on right away? I have to get to bed in ten minutes."

"Well, I'll try," lied Paneela. "Let's go to our next caller."

"Hi Jeff, this is Frank. What's going on? Why isn't there music?"

Paneela felt nauseated. His thought process was shutting down and he was very tired. "You know what? I'm not going to play any more music for you brats. How's that? Let's go to another caller. Who's this?"

"Hey Jeff, this is Maggie. Listen, I have some information I'd like to share with your listeners. That girl who called earlier about Plato might want to know that Plato now works at The Goldfish and he's on right now..."

"You...you..." Paneela mumbled in his tired anger. He sounded like he wanted to call her a name but the words wouldn't come out. In fact, nothing came out anymore. Paneela closed his eyes and he put his head over his arms on the console and completely passed out.

"...as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," continued Maggie, "Plato now works at The Goldfish, who plays pretty good music. I flip it back and forth between The Goldfish and Clueless, but lately I've been listening to The Goldfish a lot more." The caller didn't realize it yet, but with Paneela out cold, she had taken over the station.

After five minutes of rambling about what Clueless needs to do to "sound as good as The Goldfish," Maggie realized that she was all alone on the air when she asked Paneela a question that was followed by a long silence. She put down the phone next to her radio and turned up the radio only to hear screechy feedback through her stereo speakers. Then she picked up the phone again and said "hello?" A second later she heard herself say "hello" on the radio. "Is anyone there?" There was no response except her own echo over the airwaves.

"This is really weird," Maggie marvelled. "It's like the DJ disappeared and now I'm the DJ. Wow. What should I talk about? Well, I've always wanted to have my own talk show...but I've never thought about what I would talk about. Okay, this is really freaky. I need a minute to think about this."

She put down the phone and ran to get a notepad. Then she started writing down ideas for the next 45 minutes while there was literally nothing on the air.

"Okay, I've got it," she finally said on the phone over the air. "Today's topic will be drugs...how to use them and where to get them. Now let's start the discussion with marijuana...it's an okay drug but let's face it, it's for amateurs. I started smoking pot when I was 12, which was four years ago. I still smoke it but only if I'm out of crack..."

Maggie continued to talk on the air throughout the entire overnight show and even into the first hour of the morning show. She gave out phone numbers of drug dealers, recommended hard drugs, talked about having sex with multiple partners including her math teacher, Mr. Tredwell. Her "show" was filled with profanity and commentary on various illegal activities. She babbled until she ran out of energy and finally fell asleep around 6:30 am, returning the station to dead air.

At about 7am, a Clueless sales executive named Luke walked into the control room and saw Paneela slumped over. Luke shook Paneela's shoulder and shouted, "HEY! WAKE UP! You're costing us money."

Paneela woke up in shock as he saw the sales guy in a suit shouting at him. Paneela saw the clock. Then he realized what had happened. "Oh shhhhhhiddlestix...," he gasped. "Um, everyone keep listening, I'll be right back." He ran down the hall to try to find someone who knew something about getting the station back to music. He found Bobby in the jock lounge. Bobby was a weekend board-op.

"Hey, son, we have an emergency," said Paneela, almost out of breath. "We need someone on the air right now that knows how to run the damn computer."

"Sure, I'll do it," said an excited Bobby. "Does that mean I get to talk on the air?" Bobby had voiced a few tags on spots but he had never done a live show before.

"You bet," said Paneela. "But first I want you to show me how the damn thing works."

The two hurried to the control room. Bobby walked over to the console and clicked the word "start" on the computer screen and suddenly there was music again.

"You're a saviour!" said a relieved Paneela, wiping his forehead with a paper towel. "Can you work until 2 o'clock?"

Bobby's eyes lit up. "Yeah!" said the kid, "This is gonna be hella fun."

"Good. I'll see that you're taken care of. Now do a good show and whatever you do, don't miss any spots." Paneela walked to the programming office and flipped on the computer to work on music scheduling. The last time he actually scheduled music was in the early 80s and that was by hand with a card system. Paneela at least knew how to get into the program but from there he didn't know what to do except print out the pre-log. The archaic music scheduling software was by no means industry standard, it was simply the cheapest program out there. Unfortunately, the pre-log was never adequate because it left several slots for music unscheduled. Apparently the station had set up too many rules for the small music library. Consequently, music scheduling required a lot of editing. At this point Paneela didn't care. He just wanted to meet with Bizz Barker and then go home.

Bizz Barker had just gotten out of the shower when the phone rang. He rushed to the phone with a towel wrapped around his body. "Hello?...yes?...Jeff Paneela, Jeff Paneela, I'm sorry it doesn't ring a bell... with Clueless?...Sure, I'm interested...today?...Yeah, how about noon?...Great, I'm looking forward to it."

Bizz was excited. He knew the station would call on him again some day. He counted on it. He knew the station was heading in a downward spiral and he was sure he knew what to do about it. He also expected the station would pay him more than $24K this time since he knew a bigger company had taken over. Bizz imagined they'd offer him close to sixty.

The former Clueless PD met with Paneela and Heichman at noon and it seemed to be off to a good start.

"So how are things going for you?" Heichman asked Barker.

"Well, they're going," said Barker, hoping to move the conversation along. "I understand you're looking for a PD."

"And morning host," inserted Paneela.

"So let's talk," said Barker, anxious to close the deal and dump his lousy thrift store gig.

"We're interested in bringing you back because you know the market, the station, the format and the industry very well," began Paneela, also anxious to close the deal quickly so he could just go home and get back into bed.

"On a trial basis," Heichman interrupted. Barker's smile faded.

"But we know you can do it again, which is why we're talking with you," Paneela countered. "Look, PD gigs are very hard to come by these days now that group PDs and VPs are taking over. I'm sure you agree that there are not a lot of opportunities out there anymore."

"Obviously you haven't been able to find a PD job since leaving here," said Heichman unsympathetically. "We want to give you another chance."

"So will I actually get to program?" asked an increasingly bewildered Barker.

"Absolutely," Paneela said. "We want you to make all the programming decisions..."

"Within our framework, of course," Heichman said cutting Paneela off. "Things are a little different now. We're owned by Consolidated Broadcasting, who we have to answer to. We have to meet quotas and corporate expectations. Luckily for you, the VP of Programming has allowed us to program Clueless as we see fit. They recognize the station's heritage and importance in the market."

Barker was willing to accept the corporate environment, even though all his life he had been a spokesman for the anti-corporate movement, which he finally realized was rapidly deteriorating from American culture. It almost seemed ludicrous anymore for anyone to criticize the corporate system that had become so powerful, crushing and gobbling up even the purest independent stations around the country. For a second Barker mentally pictured the ghost of his past. The long hair, the bandana, the torn jeans, the peace signs and all the other symbols he embraced - were simply gone now. Subconsciously it was becoming ridiculous nostalgia for him even though he still wanted to hang on to his free-spirited ideals.

"So how much money are we talking?" asked Barker snapping out of his daze.

"It's actually a pretty exciting plan. We'll give you 60% of a 15% raise from what you were making before plus 401K and medical benfits," said Heichman with a stoneface grin.

Bizz was silent for a moment. He couldn't even calculate in his head what the salary would be. He wasn't sharp when it came to percentages and he had no clue what a 401K even was. "Well it's just that..."

Heichman sensed the conversation was getting awkward so he blurted, "I'll tell you what. Since you've paid your dues we'll make it 75% of 10%. And if you get the ratings back to where they were we'll double your salary! Keep in mind, the stock is going to be worth a lot and you're getting in at a really good time. Bizz, we need to know right away if this will work for you because we need to make a decision immediately on the PD position. Now Jeff has already scheduled several interviews but we're willing to cancel them if you want the job. It's yours if you want it."

Bizz knew he had to take the job because it was his only chance to get back into the industry. Besides, it wasn't about the money anyway. It was never about the money. It was about the music.

"I'll take it," said Bizz with a nervous laugh.

"Excellent!" said Paneela.

"Welcome back, Bizz," said Heichman, shaking the reinstated PD's hand.

"Your first order of business is to find a midday person and an overnight person right away," said Paneela. "We need these positions filled on Monday. Do you know anybody?"

"Sure," said Bizz. "But what happened to Jennifer? She was like my favorite jock - in the whole market."

"Yes, where is Jennifer?" a concerned Heichman asked Paneela. "I was expecting to hear her on the air today but all I heard was some weenie I never heard before."

"Basically she quit because she couldn't handle the pressure professionally," said Paneela, nodding his head horizontally. "Don't even go there."

"Well, again, welcome back Bizz," Heichman said, bringing the conversation to an abrupt ending. "Now if you would excuse us, Jeff and I need to speak in private."

As Bizz stepped away from Heichman's office the door slammed and he could hear Heichman shouting at Paneela but he couldn't make out what was being said. "Huh," Bizz wondered. "I hope I didn't say the wrong thing."

Bizz spent all weekend listening to the station and reading the trades. On Monday he met with Heichman, who instructed Bizz not to add any new records his first week, since it was a transition period. Bizz understood. Some people who would not understand this decision, however, worked for the label that former PD Jarz had promised would get an add on Tuesday. Without the add, the Mr. Peroxide record was dead. Bizz Barker's triumphant return was about to be overshadowed by a blast of anger.

End of Chapter 4. Continue to Chaper 5.

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