It was my first week working fulltime in radio. I had taken a two-thirds salary cut from my software development job to chase my broadcasting dream, and now I was working in both news and sports coverage at a small radio station just outside of Dallas.
My first weekend assignment was not quite news or sports. I was stationed at the county fair to do "remotes." You've heard them; a radio personality is on location somewhere and gives periodic updates to entice you to visit wherever they are.
Like everything else that first week, I was nervous about the assignment. The volatile station manager was known for firing people on the spot. His best friend, Terry, was experienced in radio and was filling in back in the studio (hanging out with a friend of his) while I was giving updates from the fair.
Every 20 to 30 minutes that Saturday afternoon, I joined Terry on air to discuss what events were coming up at the fair and to remind people to visit our booth. The booth was actually a tiny house where I stood on the front porch, and fairgoers could hear the station over our loudspeakers. My wife Sara was with me for moral support.
During one segment, I was closing by reminding listeners of an Elvis impersonator show coming up. Terry threw me for a loop by prompting, "Hey, Cecil, I hear you do a mean Elvis impersonation." (Which I do not).
On live radio, I was trying to think of a quick comeback that involved no singing. What I came up with was, "Well, I can play dead."
The world seemed to stop. Fairgoers paused to stare at me for what I just said. Terry went silent. Sara was laughing loudly.
Terry quickly went to music, and I tried to get on the back channel to him. I felt like I had just blown my chance. He would tell his station manager bestie what I had said, and I would be fired on Monday morning.
"Terry?" I asked. "Terry, are you there? Is everything OK?" Silence for too long. Then he opened up his backchannel mic and shouted, "CEEEE-CILLLL!"
"What, Terry, what? Is it all good? Am I going to get fired?" And all he could do was shout my name.
Finally, he gathered himself and said, "That was hilarious! We're rolling on the floor laughing here! I couldn't even say anything on air, I was laughing so hard! That's the funniest thing I've ever heard!"
"So I'm not getting fired?" I asked. "Why, no!" he replied.
On Monday, the station manager told me that Terry had given me a glowing report. I was on my way in radio, taking on new assignments and growing with each one.
Luckily, no one ever asked me again for my Elvis impersonation.
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