OK, if Ken can post a looooong one, then so can I. Heres a story I wrote for a magazine 25 years ago about my experience of becoming a co-ordinator. Thought some of you might get a few laughs. Strike! Everyone out! The voice echoed and bumped around inside my head. The implications were horrific. I was not a union member. I was not yet a qualified television co-ordinator. In a few moments, however, I would be the only television co-ordinator in the building! For two long days I had slumped beside Ivor and watched helplessly as movies, commercials and newsbreaks flashed before my eyes in an endlessly confusing kalaidescrope. For two long days Ivor had patiently explained the array of buttons and switches and monitors. Countdowns and audio cassettes permeated my dreams and turned them into nightmares. Then the call came. Strike! Everyone out! Ivor stood, patted my shoulder, and told me Id be just fine. Then he left. I stayed seated and stared hypnotically at the monitor. I had totally mastered that skill. Viceotape to co-ord the talkback broke through my wall of terror. My mouth was as dry as sandpaper. I reached a clammy hand forward and hesitantly pushed the talkback button. Yes? I answered, very quietly. I prayed they wouldnt hear me and simply go away. Your next program is up on line 2. Check it and Ill recue. Then youre on your own ... were on strike, you know! Check it? I had a vague idea. I pushed a button and the taped program rolled up on the preview monitor. I presumed it was the preview monitor. There were so many of them, it may have been the on-air monitor. The entire viewing audience may have had a sneak preview of our next program! I called videotape and confirmed that it was acceptable. I had heard Ivor say that. He always sounded so confident. I really didnt know what was acceptable and what wasnt. The tape was cued and ready to go. What would happen, though, once it went to air? Who would supply the commercials? Who would recue the program during breaks? And who would help me put it to air once it had been cued? Pushing one button after careful and prolonged consideration, with Ivor nearby to stop me if I made the wrong choice, had been safe. Split second decisions, control of audio levels, countdowns to studios, vision failures - these were the realities of a major television station. These were the problems I would have to deal with. I angrily asked myself why I hadnt joined the union, then considered that perhaps I could pretend I had. I could simply walk out. What could anyone do? Who would know? Chaos reigned supreme. Executives were rushing along corridors to take control of film projectors, cart machines, technical areas. Phones were ringing, people were frantically calling to each other. Apprentices were shouting orders at managers. Previously self-assured managers were giving the impression they were as close to panic as I was. Suddenly, voices were begging instructions from me via the talkback. Co-ord, videotape here. Which commercials do you need next? Co-ord, how do I give you the cart - do I roll it or do you? Panic-sticken voices begged for help. I had no answers. My head was spinning, my hands were shaking, my palms were sweaty. Co-ord, this is videotape. the talkback shouted angrily. Co-ord? Co-ord? Is anyone there? What do you need? Whens your next break due? I glanced at the counter. Barely a few minutes of program remained. End credits were about to roll. A commercial break loomed. I had no commercials ready to put to air. I knew the next program was waiting - I had checked it prior to the walkout and confirmed it was acceptable. I took a deep breath and began shouting orders into the microphone, reading the list of commercials needed for the break. Voice over credits - I suddenly remembered the audio cassette in the machine to my left. I punched the button and a calm voice advised viewers to stay tuned for the next exciting program. Youll be bloody lucky! I muttered to the insolent machine. End credits faded out. Commercials rolled up on the preview monitor and right on cue, switched themselves to air. Then the program rolled and it, too, did exactly what it was supposed to do. Flushed with a newfound confidence, I began to take control. I called my list of commercials to videotape, gave the operator step-by-step instructions - and hoped I was right - and kept the audio levels as close to bearable as possible considering my own state of heart-thumping hysteria. We made it! A twenty minute segment switched itself to air. I slumped back in my chair and breathed a long sigh of relief. I had been driving the station for less than ten minutes, but I knew I would cope. I was amazed at how much information had seeped into my befuddled brain in a mere two days. The program manager was relying on me. The sales manager was asking my advice. The manager of Traffic was at my mercy. Executives were bombarding me with questions, pleas, requests. What? How? When? Eventually, the strikers drifted back. Few could afford to be out of work for so long. When they returned, I was a television co-ordinator. Throughout those weeks, there had been many horrific moments when film breaks or lost commercials brought me close to collapsing in a screaming heap and allowing the vision switcher to put whatever it pleased to air while I indulged in a spectacular nervous breakdown. My greatest frustration, however, didnt involve film breaks or lost commercials. It occurred after the strikers returned, and I proudly announced to a friend who didnt work in the industry that I was now a co-ordinator. Whats a co-ordinator? she asked, and I hastily explained the many duties such an important person must perform under extreme pressure. Oh, she shrugged indifferently. I thought all that just happened automatically!
Posted on: Wed, 16 Jul 2014 12:24:11 +0000
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