Thursday, November 11, 2004

JOBS... like BOYFRIENDS

You know it's funny how similar jobs and boyfriends are. You start out all optimistic and eager to please. Everything is lovely. Then, the mood shifts. Job/Boyfriend turns on you. It's heartbreaking and disappointing.

Here's the thing,...I HAVE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH JOB/BOYFRIEND!! I'M DONE. I am so JADED when it comes to MEN/JOBS. I enter BOTH relationships with my eye on the exit door for the quickest escape route. I know it's bad,....but hey,...GOTTA SAVE FACE, GOTTA SAVE ASS!

So, here's the DEALIO with the Jobby Job.

Don't know if you have noticed the job security rumblings or not but... SH*T HAS HIT THE FAN! AGAIN!

So I can't tell this story without starting from the beginning. I got my degree from ASU in Music. Tried to perform on stage, couldn't deal with the stage fright. I tried teaching,...NO PATIENCE! I was about to go postal on those kids, parents were worse. I tried working for a now defunct record label,...6 BUCKS AN HOUR FOR 3 HOURS, 2 DAYS A WEEK!!!! yeah, they were trippin'.

So then I got a hook up at a radio station. In my mind, I was thinking,...with a degree, i could get a job at a station as Music Director,...JUST LIKE THAT! I made it to the interview, dressed to the 9's and OWNED IT! The future DIVA BOSS "THE DUTCHESS"(her dj name) looked at me and said,...YOU GOT A JOB! You wanna sell or work on air? I was like,"O-KAY, I was thinking Music Director, not on air!" She repeats herself and says, "So do you wanna sell or work on air?" So I said, "On air, I guess." I was SCARED to death. But the DUTCHESS took me under her wings, became my mentor and showed me the "technical" ropes. She was the best. Then she got a better offer and moved to (Black Folks Love Bush) OHIO. Exit DREAM BOSS, enter HATER BI-YATCH FROM HELL. Guess there couldn't be TWO cute females on ONE station in this town. This "I HATE YOU AND I WILL DO WHATEVER I NEED TO DO TO TAKE YOU DOWN BOSS" was the PERFECT FRIEND BOSS...IN DISGUISE!! She tried like HELL, on the sly, to get me fired,...to no avail. (GOD TAKES CARE OF HIS KIDS) Then the owner of the station sold it to a GROUP. (Corporate Radio begins)

This was BIG TIME to me at the time. With the aquisition of my station, this company now owned 5 stations. I was in a comfort zone with my show and very insecure. I tried to take in the advice of all the vets around me and apply it to my show. One day, the big boss (mista cha-ly white guy) calls me into his office and says basically that I WASN'T ETHNIC ENOUGH FOR A BLACK STATION. "ME?...NOT ETHNIC!" and like the movie CB4, I felt like Lance (sharmaines man from the cosby show) when he was like, "UM BLACK AN UM BLACK AN UM BLACK YALL! AN UM BLACK! BLACKA DEN BLACK YALL!" ...WTF! How was I, "ME," the one that's straight from Atlanta(not a suburb like Decatur or Marietta, but the SWATS, the dirty south), born and raised in the home of Dr. Martin Luther King (BLACKNESS HEADQUARTERS) not ethnic enough? I was pissed, still very insecure and...there was that thing where I didn't want to lose my job. So, I asked what he wanted me to do about getting in touch with my BLACKNESS! He said, "I wouldn't change a thing! I think you'd be better suited for our pop station. We are gonna have to change your name. D-Love sounds WAY TOO ethnic. " I'm thinking,...WHAT? too ETHNIC? this is about some BULLSh*t!! So I come up with the name Jazzmine,...spelled like Jazz-mine out of sheer rebellion because I didn't want to leave my station. I didn't want to give up the Jazz show, it was MINE. Hence the name Jazzmine. Found a Jazz station in Phoenix Arizona, put a spin on that whole Phoenix rising thing and VOILA! A STAR IS BORN!

My first night on the station, some chick calls in on the request line and says,..." I WILL NEVER LISTEN TO YOUR STATION AGAIN, AS LONG AS YOU HAVE ***insert serious HICK accent*** THAT NIGGER BITCH ON!" My mouth dropped. Guess I wasn't BLACK enough because instead of CUSSIN' DA BITCH OUT,...like a PUNK,...I CRIED! ***getting teary eyed typing this*** Growing up in Atlanta (a very Black city), I had never experience racism. EVERYBODY was BLACK! So the "N" word was only something I only heard on documentaries on the Civil Rights Movement (or rap songs). How could someone that didn't know me hate me? I went to BOSS MAN and begged him to "LET US FREE! Pleeze put me back on my Urban Blackness station? LET ME GO HOME!!!" In a self assured manner, he said "JAZZ, I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING! YOU ARE STAYING PUT. Believe me when I tell you that you are talented and you can do this. I know it!" He was so confident. So I figured I would do it but he would soon realize that he was making a HUGE mistake and he would EAT those words. One week later, little boy Billie and his mom (white) came to the station looking for me. He was like 8 or something and had made a Christmas card for me and his mom baked peanut brittle for me. He didn't care that I was Black. I was so touched....like A PUNK,..I CRIED! Since then, there has been nothing but LOVE from the listening public.....good times.

After pushing me and being so supportive, BOSS MAN flips. He decides to go totally ROCK! Then suddenly, I'M TOO BLACK for ROCK!

gotta go to work, this story is definitely.....TO BE CONTINUED!!!!

8 comments:

Larry D. Lyons II said...

You are allowed to experience emotion. Eff a punk, you are human. When last I was called a nigger, it was face-to-face, and despite how many times I promised myself, the race and God that I would do my best to kill the person who'd call me such a thing, I only manage to stand in the very same spot for a good 3 minutes, watching the word swim inside my head and send my emotions reeling. It was crazy. But you we are human and entitled to our emotions. Beautifully human.

C.R.C. said...

Whoa. You GOTTA make sure you finish the story. You certainly have been through some rough experiences with your career - but it makes you strong, always remember that (even though you cried like a punk, lol:). I don't know what I would have done in a situation like that with the ignant white woman.

Actually, with some of your ignant bosses too. How the hell am I not 'ethnic' enough???? Do I need to wear kinte cloth everyday, change my name to Kunta, and develop a thick 'ethnic' accent? Or maybe not speak so 'proper'? Then will I be black enough? That shit pisses me off! They need to get a clue and quit acting like THEY can define what black is.

G. Cornelius said...

Hang in there...I'll keep you posted

Dayrell said...

I'm glad you stuck it out Jazz. I know you're a strong sista. You can defeat anything you set your mind to. Struggle is a blessing in diguise...so keep that head up girl. No doubt.

Anyway, make sure you keep us up to date on that 'to be continued'...I wanna know what happens... :)

Jdid said...

thats messed up sistren. stand strong dont let this stuff get you down. you can naa f dat you will make it.

Jazz said...

Larry,..Thanks. I guess that's why it's hurts a little more to hear Brothas & Sistas use the "N" word. That was the first and last time I have ever heard that word coming from a white person, in my presence. Now, guess how many times I've heard it from a Black person?

ps.Does anyone ever call you LL? just curious (smile)



Chevonne,....I know it sounds crazy but I get the most flack from my own people now. I apparently can't have white friends, I can't work for a station that plays Britney and God forbid I use CORRECT GRAMMAR!! It's all out gang warfare. I have to be WHITEWASHED!!

Whatever, my mom was an educator and she would turn over in her grave if she ever heard me say, "I BE or SHE BE" (I used to get slapped in the mouth behind that)

I don't know, I just try to be me.



Phin,....I am getting to it. Quit it with the impatience. (smile)


"G"....Thanks (where have you been, anyway?)


Dayrell,....Thanks so much. I lost my mom in 94. That situation forced me to fight for success. My mom was a stong woman. I have to keep on keeping on,...for her.


Roman,...you are sweet. I AM NO WRITER. I'll leave all that up to WILL and The Black New Yorker.


Jdid,...Thank you. I have to stay stong. GOTTA GET THAT C.R.E.A.M. blogging (my support system) helps.




THANKS GUYS,....WILL CONTINUE THE SAGA IN THE MORNING.

Casey said...

Hey Jazz!!

Let me first begin by saying God created us all!!
You are one of my many black friends. I see you no different then I see my white friends. We all bleed the same. We all go to the same "Gracious Land" (if we honor God). Racism disgust me and I despise the "N" word. Hold you head up D, don't be afraid to admit who you are!! Stand High, and Touch the sky.. We gotta talk... Love ya

sj-the-infamous said...

Wow Jazz. I've yet to read part II, (I think you've finished the story, but I a reading oldest to newest, so I am not sure ~smile~), but this is an eye-opener for me as well. One of my career options will bring me to the ATL and although I have family there, one of my concerns is that a negro like me don't know "her place" and I will come across racists and rednecks in parts of GA that won't know how else to deal with me nor I know how to deal with them. Living in a "Black" city is one thing, as living in Chocolate City (DC) has taught me, but it's once you leave those borders it's another world -- which is why I don't do Virginia (damn confederacy LOL)

You seem like such a strong, determined, focused sista. I am sure that you beat this challenge as well.

I'll keep reading now....

Peace and Blessings ~ sj