One night, late in the evening, my roommate knocked on my door to tell me that my boss was on the phone. I immediately knew he would be asking me to cover the overnight shift. That next day, my corporate boss from the New York publishing company where I worked was holding an important morning meeting that I needed to attend. He rarely traveled to our office and also had a name much like an adult movie star, so I was eager to meet him. I explained this to my boss who assured me that I would only have to cover from midnight until 1:30 A.M. because Kelli, another part-time DJ, would take over from there. Kelli worked as a bartender at a restaurant that closed at 1:00 A.M. and she would drive to the station immediately afterward. I was a sprite young 24 year-old who could easily bounce back from a night with five or six hours, so I agreed to work with the understanding that I would be home by 2:00 A.M.. My boss thanked me, and I hopped in a cab and headed to work.
Around 1:45 A.M., the radio station's hotline rang. The hotline is a special phone number that only employees of the station knew and used. It's rarely a good thing when the hotline rings (in fact, most stations have a strobe light that flashes to alert you when someone is phoning the hotline). Usually, that line is reserved for an angry Program Director calling to tell you what you did wrong or for fellow DJs to tell you they're running late. Kelli, who was already 15 minutes late, called to tell me she was in a car accident and would be late. Kelli's voice sounded shaken and frail. She said she wasn't injured and had to wait for the police to file an accident report and possibly might need a tow truck for her SUV. Remembering my early morning meeting at my other job, I asked her not to worry, just do what she needed to do and keep me posted. Nearly an hour later, she phoned again to say that she was almost done with the police and would soon be on her way...provided her car would cooperate. At this point, it was nearly 2:00 A.M. I told her not to worry about coming into work--I would cover the entire shift. Relieved, Kelli thanked me and told me she would pay me back somehow. I hurriedly phoned my boss's office at the magazine and left a voicemail explaining what happened and to say that I would be a little late coming into work in the morning.
With a solid two to three hours of sleep, I dragged myself into work later that morning but could not find anyone at their desks, in their cubicles or even in the company's break room. My boss' office door was closed, so I knew at least someone was there. Plus, there were purses and briefcases strewn about other people's cubicles, but no other people. I dropped my coat and backpack down and sat at my desk to check email and voicemail. Aside from the usual client email, I noticed an email from our corporate market manager with the porn star name. Before I could read the contents of the email, my boss was standing behind me and asked me to join him in his office. I walked with him to his office where he introduced me to a man sitting at his desk--at last, I finally met the corporate boss with the porn star name! This portly man (who was definitely not a porn star) informed me that our parent company discontinued one of the magazines in our office and also dismissed all but five people from my office. The Chicago office housed production, sales and editorial whereas our New York office contained billing, circulation and the corporate big wigs. Gone were our editorial and production folks including people I hired as well as others with 30-some years of service. Somehow, I was one of the five whose jobs were spared. When my boss at the radio station called me that afternoon to thank me for covering the entire overnight shift, I filled him in on the mass firings. He apologized again and promised to repay me in some way. Before too long, he would help rescue me from my job at the failing magazine with a newly created job at the radio station....