A face for radio. I’m fairly certain I’ve heard that many times. I have resting b*tch face, so in terms of media outlets, the written word or radio wave would suit most.
As the owner of a face that ‘says it all’ without having to utter a word, it’s not intentional, I’m probably just concentrating.
Childhood reports with remarks such as ‘while Mary-Jane is a bright and intuitive child, she will never be a lady’ are coupled with adult workplace appraisals stating ‘MJ doesn’t suffer fools gladly’. I could have a point when I mention I’ve a face for radio.
‘People back away from me…’
One of my less endearing traits involves frequent promises to ‘cut a long story short’ before proceeding to tell the longest, story you’ve ever heard, including several unrelated tangents.
Subject matter is no issue. Time restrictions not considered. People back away from me mid flow.
The mister informs me I’ve gone all Billy Connolly in an attempt to rein me in. I’d happily take that as a huge compliment, it’s not meant as one.
He occasionally howls with laughter at my audacity when he doesn’t understand exactly what I’m talking about after starting my sentence half way through a thought.
My staff call it a ‘brain dump’ as I throw out thoughts with abandon. Women can apparently speak 20k words per day, I can easily get that done by breakfast.
A trait passed on to two of the daughters. The third should not be approached lunchtime, and only with safety snacks in hand.
So you can understand why, for situations like a radio interview or this column even, I perform better given a chance for consideration, to write ideas down and to edit, edit, edit.
And so it came to pass
One of my crew answered the phone during a very busy lunch service last week. We don’t really have time to deal with random callers when we’re all hands on deck and they have my full support in getting people off the phone asap.
She mentioned it was the BBC and I laughed, it’ll just be someone trying to sell me advertising. Apologising for already telling the lady I was in the café, she handed me the phone and legged it. Hello? Can I help you? <insert disinterested tone implying I’d been interrupted from a moment of greatness and not just organising next week’s rota>.
The eloquent lady on the phone couldn’t have been nicer as she explained her position as a producer on BBC Radio Scotland and how she wanted to invite me to be a guest on one of their shows.
‘I’m MJ, and I make buns’
I laughed, before asking politely if she was calling the right person? My name is MJ, and I make buns. What on earth would I have to contribute to a radio show?
Oh, and did she know I was exceptionally sweary and if they were considering me for a spot, possibly one after watershed might be more appropriate than Sunday morning?
Before I knew it, mainly because I couldn’t hear a thing due to bedlam caff goings on, I was agreeing to consider being a media darling guest talking all things Christmas. Christmas?!? I LOVE Christmas! Low brow expert at your service.
Install full blown panic here. No, I wouldn’t need to be in the studio in person, phew, as I was working in the caff that day. Yes everything is done via Zoom. No, I wouldn’t be on my own, there will be other guests. A professor of theology from Glasgow University – say what now? And just to check, categorically no swearing? Right, right, got it.
You’re on air…
Four sleepless nights later and many, many pages of notes written full of witty anecdotes, detailing family traditions and descriptions of favourite puddings, I found myself sitting in a virtual waiting room about to go live.
Did I use any of my notes? No. Did I sound light and breezy? No. Did I charm the socks off the beeb so much I’ve been invited back for a permanent slot? Definite no.
I spent the quickest 12 minutes of my life repeating over and over in my tiny mind ‘just don’t swear, just don’t cough’.
I managed not to do either, but it turns out I DO do a fabulous impressions of Hyacinth Bucket. Who knew?
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