"Do you wanna buy some Comast?"

I revise what I said in my previous post about the low frequency of calls in the pledge room. Starting on Tuesday, the phones lit up and became much more lively than the winter pledge drive. The afore mentioned terror-excitement quickly dissipated in the face of a flood like this. 

One of the best parts about volunteering is meeting fellow listeners who are also donating their time and energy. Turns out, we are a beautiful and hilarious bunch of people. Here is a picture of some of us (my face is not visible, but that's me in the black shirt under the red arrow).

One of us took a call at one point from a cable guy who we later decided was probably stoned. We figured he was hanging out installing cable at someone's house, smoked a joint, turned on KEXP, and decided to call in. He actually said on the phone "Do you wanna buy some Comcast?" You get some weird people on the phones, but they are few and far between. 

Even on a busy day, there is still down time, which we pass by writing lists (I have mentioned before). These are good conversation generators. Someone writes a topic upon the back of an on-air comment sheet, then we pass it around and everyone writes down their top 3 film soundtracks or top 3 Canadians (actually, we changed the latter to comedians when we realized that we have no favorite Canadians [just kidding, Canada. We love you]). Also, sometimes we draw pictures.

That says "Just Like Honey" by Dan Howes.

"And the people bowed and prayed, to the neon God they made..."

There is a kind of giddy terror when answering phones. You sit and wait. Many KEXP listeners may not realize that the phone room is not constantly abuzz with incoming calls. On the contrary; it has been my experience that maybe 75% of a our time is spent waiting for the phones to ring. In the protracted interim, we pass the by time chatting, eating donated food, and writing lists (top 3 greatest shows you've ever seen, top three female singers), all while keeping a nervous and excited eye on the silent phone. You hope that your phone rings next, but you are also afraid. It's the same way you feel when an beautiful, confident person is approaching you, and you want to talk to them, but a part of you wants to curl up into a ball and hide. Once you pick up the receiver and deliver the first line, "thank you for calling KEXP. How much would like to donate today?", and plunge into the conversation, all the fear goes away, and you wonder what you ever had to be afraid of in the first place. 

Before my volunteer shift, I journeyed to Bellevue to submit a resume to a prospective employer. The entire Eastside is a strange place. It has no soul; it is all sprawling suburbs and dead-eyed corporate office buildings. It doesn't feel like anyone lives there, not anyone who belongs in the Northwest, anyway. It feels like the worst rich parts of Southern California. I wore a dress shirt and slacks to the potential job, and it seems fitting that I changed out of my Bellevue costume as soon as I returned to Seattle.