MisterEd's Eclectia

It’s that time of year again.  Time for the annual National Association of Broadcasters convention in good ol’ Las Vegas, Nevada (for those back east, that first “a” in Nevada is pronounced like “cat” not like “almond”).

That’s right, it’s once again time for NAB.

It’ll be a day of meetings with my company colleagues, then four days of walking my feet off all over the 3.2 million square feet of space at the Las Vegas Convention Center.  NAB is among the largest trade shows that call Vegas home – smaller than CES and the Adult Entertainment Industry Show, but larger than the International Builders Show and the Global Gaming Expo.  It’s a place to confab with vendors, learn about the newest wares, and see more demos and listen to more product spiels than you ever wanted to in your life.  Once a year is enough and four days is enough.

And four days is only if you just stick to the show floor.  For those that attend the various professional and trade conferences that are attached to the show, some of those meetings started days ago.

You either really need to like Vegas – a lot – or you need to find an alternative way to spend time in town than constantly “doing Vegas.”  In my youth, I used to be one of the “do Vegas” kinds of guys – shows every night, spending inordinate amounts of time in the casinos losing more money than a person of my wage scale had a right to, eating too much, drinking too much and generally living by the “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” thing.

Nowadays, I’m just what the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Bureau hates – I go to the trade show, I go out for a few dinners, and I’m almost always back at my hotel by 9:00-9:30 and usually in bed before 11:00.  I might stick a quarter in a slot machine once or twice and I might sit down and play 2 or 3 hands at a poker machine, but my days of sitting up half the night playing roulette are long, long over.  I’m the kind of guy that Vegas hates because I take up hotel space and don’t lose any significant money at the tables.  I’m a Vegas deadbeat.

I’m one of those folks who can take Vegas about once or twice a year, in small doses, for a short period of maybe 4-5 days tops.  I stay at hotels far, far away from the strip, and I stick to my knitting pretty much.  It’s a fun place to visit.  I know for sure I don’t want to live there.

No offense to the great people of the Las Vegas area, of course.  I know it’s not all the strip and the neon……..

So, off we go – north, to Nevada (and never to Nevaaahhda) tomorrow afternoon.

The Return of Odysseus by Bernardino Pinturicchio

Well, as my multi-year career odyssey continues, yet another new chapter opens in my life.

This summer, I’ll be returning to Portland, Oregon to take up a new job. Well, actually, I’ll be returning to Portland to take up my old job. The one I left back in September of 2007.

The reasons for the move are various and they cover a broad swath of things related to career, economy, environment and so on, but in the main, the biggest reasons are purely personal and, frankly, emotional at heart.

I don’t regret the moves I’ve made over the last few years, and while there are light and sketchy parallels in my journey to that of Odysseus (tempted by the Sirens, time with the Lotus Eaters, battling Polyphemus, the journey in to Hades, the eventual return to Ithaca and Penelope) it hasn’t been quite that bad.  All of life is an education, and I’ve come to the realization, probably later in life than most, that there are really no bad decisions.  If you’re smart, you learn from every one of them.

I’ve worked in the Broadcasting industry for, oh, close to 30 years now on and off, and I’ve been full time in TV Broadcast Engineering since 1985. After that much time and a lot of projects and changes and such, I found myself back in 2007 in a state of, honestly, good old fashioned burnout. I hadn’t learned then how to deal with stress very effectively, I wasn’t taking care of myself and I wasn’t enjoying my life – or so I thought.

So in the middle of 2007, I heeded the siren call of a temptress tending a glowing orb on a hill that seemed to be promising gold and treasure and early retirement. At that time, in the state of mind I was in at the time, that glowing orb looked damned good. I got caught up in a classic “grass is greener” moment, and in a fit of pique (that took nearly four months of consideration on my part, so maybe not so much on the pique…) I decided it was time to toss the Broadcasting business to the gutter and move on to something new.

Now, people do that kind of thing all the time. People are successful at it. People are able to make it work. In this case however, looking back now with the ultimate 20-20 hindsight born of a little more age, a little more experience and travel farther in to the Odyssey, I ain’t people. I didn’t do poorly at my new job – quite the contrary, actually. I did very well. I contributed valuable work. I performed valuable and concrete service. I even helped people – which, in the end, is a laudable goal for anyone to pursue. But, after 14 months, I discovered that working in an industry that serves a very tiny niche of a very small slice of a very tight and limited fraternity of scientists, hydrologists, engineers and meteorologists comes with the peril of economics. In that kind of a niche, your world is at the mercy of things like federal contract awards and the budgets of places like The State of California and The Texas Water Development Board. When the economy tanked in 2008, so did almost all of our business – within weeks. So, in January of 2009, I found myself without a job, with a fairly significant mortgage to pay and in the situation of looking for work in a market where a million other people were doing the exact same thing. During that period, I was probably more scared than I’d been in my life.

In the end, that winter/spring worked out amazingly well. In the span of literally one week, I had put my house on the market, sold it, discovered a new job with my old company down here in Phoenix, interviewed for, been offered and started that job and moved to Phoenix. At the time, all of that was great, I was very excited and happy to be back in the industry, and in fact the company that I know.

Then, I discovered what it’s like to live in Arizona.

Now, please understand, I don’t hate Arizona. There are portions of this state (like, heck, the Grand Canyon?) that are absolutely spectacular places. And I’m not a complete moron about the climate – there’s something really positive to be said about summer in February, warm sunshine and the like. There’s a reason people move here. There’s a reason why golf is such a huge industry here. There’s a reason why the population of retirees here is as big or maybe even bigger than it is in a place like Florida. But then, there’s May, June, July, August, September, most of October and even a goodly part of November… When you get to the 110th day or 150th day of 110 degree temps, it gets old. It gets really old. The $400 air conditioning bills get old. The dead car batteries get old. The pollution fogged headlamp assemblies on your car get old. The dust gets old. I think the people who enjoy living here just have a type of stoicism that I shall never posses.

But honestly, this isn’t about the heat. It’s not about the crazy drivers in Phoenix. It’s not completely about the very “Red State” politics here (and Arizona is, after all, among the reddest of the red states, so yeah, it’s a little about that). It’s not about the Real Estate market or the vast sea of foreclosures here. It’s not even about the generalized “manana, we’ll get to it eventually” work ethic that seems to seep in to a lot of folks around here.

Most importantly, it has absolutely nothing, nothing at all, to do with my professional situation here. The folks at my company who took me back and who have granted me this opportunity here in Phoenix have been fantastic. My team and I have done really great work here in the last couple of years and advanced the operation at my TV station in ways that hadn’t happened in probably the last decade. I’m very proud of my team and what we’ve accomplished and I know that they will continue on ahead now reinvigorated, excited about the future and ready to tackle the big issues with gusto!

In the end, this is almost entirely about the fact that I miss Oregon terribly. Much more than I ever thought I would. I honestly hadn’t anticipated how much I’d miss it when I left. The northwest is a very powerful draw. There’s a reason people move there, too.

I look back at that time in 2007 when I thought my life was so crappy and I laugh at myself today. My life was GREAT! I lived in an area of the country that is simply gorgeous. It’s verdant and cool and pleasant. The people are funky and geeky and weird in the greatest way. Portland is just a fantastic city with a great “small town” feel. I have terrific friends there, not to mention family – my brother lives there now – and that’s where I intend now to call home for the rest of my days. I had spent fully 1/3 of my life in that city up until the time I left. The Pacific NW has a way of soaking in to your bones and grabbing you. And, after living in a place where there’s nearly continuous sunshine for more than 300 days a year, I’ve found that I actually LIKE the rainy cool damp skies in the Northwest.

So, when the job opening came up recently at my old place, I almost jumped at the chance to make it happen. This will be a good move for me. Some of my friends and colleagues wonder about the career implications of “heading back down to the minors” so to speak, after commanding a team at a large CBS affiliate in Market 12, but I don’t. And I don’t see it as a “move down” either. For me, nowadays, it’s more about quality of life than it is about climbing the ladder. And you know, ladders can be climbed from Portland too.

I bought a house here back in ’09 and while I didn’t buy at the very peak of the market, I didn’t buy at the bottom either (are we there yet?) so I’ll be a renter for a while in the Portland area while I become a landlord here in Phoenix until the house can be sold. But all the headaches are worth it to get back …………….. home.

@#$!*% nighttime noisemaker!

Well, I can tell it’s July.  The crickets have invaded the house.

When it gets good and hot outside, the little SOB’s look for coolness.  They find it at my house by crawling in through little teeny cracks and crevices in the exterior walls of my back badroom (aka my current master bedroom) and settle in to the cavity inside the wall and start chirping away.  The sound show begins most nights, like clockwork, around 30-60 minutes after dark.  They’re loud, they’re tenacious and they don’t take loud noises and such as a deterrent.  I’ve sealed and sealed and sealed cracks and crevices as I can find them and still I’ve obviously missed some since the problem isn’t gone – although its less severe than last year.

Oh well, this is what earplugs are for.

If I were ever to be in a position to be tortured for classified information, all they’d have to do is put a couple of damned crickets in the room with me and give me no way to silence them or kill them and I’d be giving up all my secrets in a couple of hours.  The sound of a single cricket close by drives me batsh*t faster than anything else.