It's not my fault!

All I wanted was for them to come and haul away my old fridge like they said they would. That's it. I was not interested in how busy they were, how other employees didn't do their jobs right or how "sometimes these things happen."

Just come and get the fridge!

My wife and I decided that it was time to give the North American power grid a break and buy a new power-saving refrigerator. We ended up getting one that was not only easy on electricity, but also could fit enough food to feed our growing (and growing and growing) son.

That part was easy.

When we bought it, the store offered to take our old one off our hands for 20 bucks. To me that was a deal. But my wife said there was this program she'd heard about where the government would come and get the old appliance and make sure it was disposed of properly (as in not plugged back in by someone who bought it second hand from a retailer).

So we stuck the old fridge in our garage.

Where it sat.

And sat.

And....sat.

Finally the Ontario Power Corporation started running commercials on 98 3 Fly FM (a fine fine radio station with probably the best late-morning show I've ever heard) saying they'd come around and take it away. So I booked an appointment on the Internet. They called back to say they'd come in about five weeks.

I was a bit disappointed, but still happy that we'd get rid of the old thing, and save me at least 20 bucks, so I did everything they asked which included plugging in the old machine to make sure it worked and to do so again 24 hours before pickup. They were very clear about the four hour window in which they'd come around, and I was thrilled to know that I'd done something that would clean at least a small portion of our Sanford and Son-esque garage.

Yesterday was f-day. My window started at 2pm, so I booked off early from work and rode home like crazy to be there early. Got in at 1:30, and saw the message light flashing on the phone. It was the fridge guy telling me that I was not there when he came, so I'd have to reschedule.

Damn!

Re-checked the date and time. Nope, I was right...2pm-6pm on the 26th.

Called appliance-central, and talked to a nice guy who said he'd get to the bottom of this and get them to come back and pick it up.

So I waited.

And waited.

And...waited.

At 6:05 I called the 800 number again. The nice woman who answered told me that I must have had the day or time or both wrong. Nope, I'd even been reminded by her call centre the night before and wrote the details down.

She continued to point out that a) the message may have got out wrong to the driver, b) the person who notified me the night before may have got it wrong, c) I probably got it wrong, d) the driver may have got there early (duh) and before she could get to e) I simply asked her to come and get my fridge. Like I was promised.

Here's the point. Sometimes things get messed up. I know this because I've lived it. I don't need to know who's fault it is, what caused the problem or even why this happens. Who did what doesn't fix my problem...a friggin' fridge in my garage!!!

Have you noticed how often this happens though? You aren't calling some place to blame the person on the phone for whatever problem has come up. But the person on the other end gives you the whole litany of what can and probably did go wrong and who in particular causes this.

"The Customer is always right" doesn't have to be proved by "here are the reasons this place I work for always screws up."

Just take a little responsibility. Convince me that you want to fix my problem. Stop ratting out your co-workers and employer.

...and come and get my fridge.

The Truth About Bikes and Cars

One centimetre closer and my handlebars would have been firmly planted in her passenger door!

Why is it that whenever you listen to those folks who supposedly love to ride their bikes, that all they wan to talk about is the latest rude, stupid, selfish thing some moron in a car, truck, SUV, van (usually a van) or semi has done to them?

Don't they realize how difficult it is to remain calm and empathetic toward cyclists when all of them ride like ten-year-old kids on a BMX? How many times does one of them come out of nowhere, fail to signal, zoom in front of you or hop up on the sidewalk to get around your car?

Bike riders bring this upon themselves!

Before I could even react, his car brushed the mirror on my bike...another millimetre and he'd have knocked me flying!

When you're driving, there's enough to worry about: stupid distracted drivers, road-hogging vehicles, out of control motorcycle riders, pedestrians walking out in front of you, dogs, those ridiculous scooters with the little orange "safety" flags oh, and let's not even get me going about buses. Add cyclists into the mix, and it's no wonder that there are close calls.

It isn't the fault of the people driving!

When the car passed the dump truck on the right, he slammed right into the woman on her bike, then continued up the road as though nothing had happened.

The worst part of it all is that when I'm driving, I'm in a hurry! There's so much traffic on the roads, and my boss is such a stickler about us being on time. If I don't get down there fast, the good parking spots will all be gone. All it takes is one idiot on a bike eating up two feet of roadway that I need to get past some slow-motion moron who's using the left lane!

Bikes and cars just don't mix.

I ride my bike to work every day. I drive my car at other times. I've seen some bad things done by people driving, and I've seen some bad things done by people on bikes. I get as ticked at drivers who ignore stop signs as I do at cyclists who think it's okay to ride up on the sidewalk.

But here's the thing: bikes scratch cars. Cars kill cyclists.

Next time you drive, imagine that person riding the bike on your right is your child. Do you want them to have a safe trip to wherever they're going, regardless of how they're conducting themselves?

To the woman driving the Caravan who almost knocked me off the bike yesterday...I'm sure your reasons for veering into the right lane on King Street so you could pass all the cars stopped at Portsmouth are all valid! I'm sure my shouting in your passenger window at the light was drowned out by your stimulating conversation.

So have I ever told you about the time the guy on the cellphone knocked me off my bike? Well, I was riding along Front road...

The other guy's a jerk...so pick me!

Okay, the attack ads have to go! We've been getting these American-styled political ads on TV since early summer, and I was sick of them then. Now they're getting me angry.

The content of an attack ad is usually about as stupid as the people they expect to buy what they're selling. Getting your message out to the voters has been pushed aside for getting a catchy negative nick name for your opponent(s).

It works like this: "Hey, do you like that guy?" "Sure, he's okay." "Well I think he's an idiot...so that makes you an idiot. But my guy's not an idiot." "So what if I say I like him?" "That would mean that I won't call you an idiot anymore."

A typical attack ad shows an unflattering picture of the person we're supposed to NOT vote for, plus his name, perhaps his catchy negative nickname. Then it proceeds to slander him in a subtle and legal-enough way. Then it switches quickly at the end to a shot of the guy they want you to vote for and his colourful party logo.

Make the other guy look as bad as you can and hammer away at any one easy to remember perceived deficiency until the public starts to buy it.

The "debate" won't be any better. The ones who aren't in power will gang up on the one who is. They'll speak in carefully crafted sound bytes and move their hands in carefully learned gestures, and promise nothing.

Do I sound cynical? Well I should! I've been fed this crap via TV for years. What makes it even worse is that if any other product was sold this way, there'd be lawsuits and great loud of anguish from the attackees.

What makes me really queasy about all this is that these moronic ads work. They've become such a part of the American political landscape that anyone who tries to run a decent issues-first campaign and who shows respect and admiration for his opponent is doomed. Look at the wahoos that poor nation elected...then RE-elected.

I know I'm just one person, and I'll never stem this tide of negative name-calling, but at least it's given me inspiration for how to vote in this election. I'm dumbing myself down even further than the ad agencies are willing to go. The first politician whose face I see or name I hear in every ad, is the one I vote for. Regardless of who it is, or what the ad is saying about them. I'm keeping tabs of all the ads I hear and see. Whoever has the most points on October 10th gets my vote.

Think of it as just my tiny personal plan for electoral reform.

Seasons change

Late September kind of sucks for me.

Two dates come up on the calendar that get to me, no matter how I work to get past them. I lost my brother and my dad in late September. Both died after battles with cancer - my brother lost his within a year, but my dad, well he wasn't going to let something as meaningless as a disease get him. He fought back hard - winning round one (throat) and taking a technical decision on round two (esophagus) before being taken by the failure of some other important parts of his body.

I was very close to my brother. Not so much with my dad.

Interestingly, I've come to be more and more like the latter than the former.

Life is unpredictable that way.

When my dad got sick, we both tried, but we still never bridged the gap between us. Our differences remained as strong as ever. I couldn't see him as a sympathetic character in this play...he refused to let his mortality soften his opinion of the world. It's ironic that we both agreed on the fact that neither of us wanted for me to follow his unique path through life.

After he was gone, I felt that I'd let him down. Let the whole family down! It was as if I watched the whole thing on a movie screen, helpless in my seat. Then when the credits rolled, I walked away thinking I would have written it better.

Ten years later my brother got sick. Though he and I were very different in many ways, we were always close and had a great relationship. When he needed me to come visit him in the middle of the Northern Ontario bush, I was there. When he had to come to Toronto for treatments at Sunnybrook, I was there. When he was struggling through his last days, his mind tortured by the pain and the morphine...I was there.

Then he was gone too.

My sister and I live just miles away from each other here in Kingston. My brother's oldest lives even closer. We all have busy lives, and socialize much less than we could. For a while we tried all getting together for a big fun party in late September every year. I guess they thought it would be a great way to make me feel better. Control-freak therapy to get me over the fact that I feel like I was no help when these two guys needed all they could get.

Mid-month I always get out and do the Terry Fox Run. It feels great being a part of something that will eventually help bring an end to the suffering that cancer brings. For a day or two, I feel pretty good.

But late September...well that always sucks for me.

Stupid Bike

I got dropped by the guys I was riding with on Saturday.

For anyone who's ever been on a group ride, it's not a great feeling. For anyone who hasn't. It's that same feeling you got the first time you noticed that you were no longer the fastest person on the rink...or even one of the fastest. It's humbling.

This year, I've been getting dropped alot. Either I'm getting older, or everyone I ride with is getting faster. Or I need a newer, shinier bike! Number three does sound more logical, but being the cheap bugger I am, it's also the least appealling explanation.

Saturday started out great. Heading into a really strong wind with four of my peers, each taking our turn out front to give everyone some rest. I stayed sensible and (for me) controlled until a couple of the guys started sprinting at all the town limit signs. I didn't stand a chance, but somehow convinced myself otherwise for about six ill-conceived sprints.

No matter how much of a lead I put together, these guys reeled me in and put me away.

Finally, on a hill near the end, I simply gave up and let the pack fly by. It was as if my mind and body finally came to an agreement and their solution to the day's ride was "who cares."

Next day, I ran with most of the crew from the day before. Pushed the pace from the first step. Dropped the bunch of them by the second km. Ten miles later, I was still all alone out front.

Saturday now seems like a long long time ago.

But I'm still thinkin' about that new bike!

Talk talk talk...crash!

You know that feeling you get when you see someone doing something you used to do, but now you totally disagree with? Perhaps seeing someone wear leg-warmers...or hockey hair...you know what I'm talking about?

As a former addict, I can now proudly announce that I'm three weeks sober. Three whole weeks without using my cellphone while driving a motor vehicle. People I used to call are no longer subjected to wind noise, traffic noise, or the loud and frightening sound of me objecting vociferously to everyone else's driving techniques. No more "hang on, I have to shift," or "wait, a police car is going by." No more looking at the keypad to dial a number while who-knows-what is happening in front of my vehicle. No more surprise red lights!

Now granted, I don't drive very much. I do use my bike to get where I need to go. But those conversations were even worse. The high (or maybe low) point was me sealing a deal for a voice over job with a producer in Phoenix while riding three inches from speeding wahoos along Front Road. The guy on the other end had a thick Spanish accent...the guy on this end was yelling over traffic noise while trying to hammer out the details of the verbal contract, for a very important commercial.

I can't believe I was such a dink!

Now when I get a call from somebody who's obviously driving somewhere, my first thought is "wow, I'm so far down on your priority list that you only talk to me when you're driving somewhere." It's that same feeling you get when you're invited to a party, the day of, or getting one of those "participant" medals at a race.

The other side of this is that talking on a cellular telephone while driving is dumb. Ever drive with one of those people who need to make eye contact when they talk to you? Even when they're the one driving the car? I got behind a guy on Gardiner's the other day who was in a big conversation with his passenger. He spent more time looking and gesturing at the poor sap sitting next to him than he did looking out the big wide window in front of him (the one that shows the road ahead). His speed would go from 40k to 65k to 35k to 80 as he worked his way through the wonderfully entertaining story he must have been telling. Moron! Imagine if this knob had nobody next to him? He'd have to pull out his mobile phone and get into it with any fool who'd answer his call.

Yesterday, I almost got clipped by a lovely young woman in a blue Honda Civic. Either her eyes need a check up, or (more probably) she should maybe not be trying to dial a number, send a text or update her Facebook while driving...especially when she's in the middle of a turn through one of the busiest intersections in Kingston!

So if you get my "I can't get to the phone right now..." message from now on, it's all good. Leave me a detailed message, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

Once it's in park, and the engine's off.

Just really glad to be here

Things change.

Okay. For anyone who hasn't been paying attention: last August I agreed to do a few months
on the Breakfast Club on 98 3 Fly FM for an ailing Brian Scott. The timeline was to be about 13 weeks or so. Since I was working for myself doing media stuff and freelance voice over, it seemed easy enough to add "Morning Show Host" to that mix for three months. What could possibly go wrong? I'd already vowed that I was finished with the radio business, and was actively pursuing all kinds of other career opportunities (at least that was the way it was worded on the note that went up at Corus the day they fired me).

Man, was I deluded!

I did a two hour "practice" show one night in early August just to see if I could still make it all work. That wasn't as bad as it could have been...but then again, it wasn't all that great either.

Then I went "live" doing what I used to do best - mornings! It did take me awhile to get the bug...almost four seconds. The first time I had the mic on, it all came back. That incredible rush that can't be described to anyone who's never done this job. It's kind of like your first kiss, Christmas, scoring your first goal, winning money, and standing on stage with everyone staring at you...all wrapped together...every time you flick on the microphone.

My teachers used to hammer it into my head, and my bosses did the same for years later - "never open a microphone without knowing exactly what you're going to say." Right. Never really got that notion. Thanks for the advice anyway. To this day that microphone switch fires off something deep inside my being that allows me to come forth with all manner of concepts, ideas and musings that heretofore were hidden inside my brain.

Now 13 months have past. Now my body is accustomed to waking up at 3am (!) zipping through the dark, silent house to prepare for the day. A quick goodbye to my barely-awake wife, and it's time to get on my bike and take the long way to work. I cram as much as I can into that brief hour before air time, then suddenly the whole show is screaming along like a finely tuned NASCAR machine.

Then it's nine o'clock, I'm off the air. I'd do a bunch of other stuff then hop back on the bike and usually be home by lunchtime. Even though I've got plenty to occupy my time after my show, I'd still slip in an hour of downtime. Ah that nap. An hour of heaven, with no alarm to end it.

I'll miss all that.

You see now Brian is back. His health has improved. He's ready to start up where he left off on the Breakfast Club.

Luckily, I'm working for some really great people. Instead of smiling politely as I walk to my car carrying a big brown box full of items from my desk...they figured a way to fooling the corporate types into keeping my on. My new show is 9am to noon. Now I get to 1) sleep in to 6:30!! 2) ride in rush hour 3) work with actual people in the building and 4) annoy everyone with my bike parked in the hallway, my smelly sweaty bike clothing strewn about and my incessant eating. I love it!

Heck, I might even get used to it. Except this is radio...and things change.