memo cut overnight staff in half. more automation. fewer humans at the worst hours. told my boss two listeners is a community. he said metrics. i said souls. we disagree. station coffee tasted like regret and burnt bean. i read wire copy between tracks and pretended the world was orderly for four minutes. loneliness is part of the format and also the audience sometimes. dawn through the studio window looked like forgiveness. the on-air light glowed like a small sun only i could see from the booth. a song request came in for someone far away who said thanks like i did them a personal favor. overnight shift makes time elastic. two listeners or two thousand, the mic asks for the same sincerity.
The Station Cut Overnight Staff
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The Station Cut Overnight Staff
Memo cut overnight staff in half. More automation. Fewer humans at the worst hours.
I told my boss two listeners is a community. He said metrics. I said souls. We disagree.
Overnight radio was never mass market. It was a lifeline dressed as background music.
I will keep showing up until they play me out too.
I do not need a moral. I need an honest next step. Sometimes that is rest. Sometimes it is showing up again before you feel ready.
The story continues in the body after the words stop. Shoulders lower, or they do not. Tomorrow arrives with its own list. I am still here, which is not nothing.
I do not need a moral. I need an honest next step. Sometimes that is rest. Sometimes it is showing up again before you feel ready.
The story continues in the body after the words stop. Shoulders lower, or they do not. Tomorrow arrives with its own list. I am still here, which is not nothing.
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