Regina Belle "If I Could"

When you're about to lose your job, your brain switches into survival mode. In my case, I knew the radio station where I worked for nearly a decade was about to flip formats and, soon, I would be unemployed. My supervisor (who also knew he was losing his job) suggested I apply for a job at a radio station in Georgia. This position required extensive on-air experience which I lacked; I had been working in an off-air position as a morning show producer. My supervisor didn't see this as a problem. Instead, he suggested I take action during the short amount of time I had before losing my current job.

His instructions were simple: the show I produced started at 5:30 A.M., so show up at 5:00 A.M. and tell the overnight guy "Oh, didn't Harrison tell you? The show's gonna start at five now.". When the overnight guy double-checked with our supervisor, he gave the all-clear which resulted in: The Todd Show. I didn't call it this, but rather the host of the morning show I produced named it as such. He listened on his way into work each morning and started our show discussing The Todd Show. Fully expecting to be fired within a day or two, I figured my show had about four shows. Instead, The Todd Show lasted for nearly three weeks. I survived the World Series and then the Bush - Kerry presidential election of 2004. For three weeks, I showed up extra-early to pour what little energy I had into 30 minutes of The Todd Show before finally getting axed in the beginning of November.

That job in Georgia? I never applied for it. With opportunities in Milwaukee and Chicago, I (host of The Todd Show) stayed put and that decision paid off.

'N-SYNC "Gone"

Weeks of a rumored format-flip culminated into a staff meeting one afternoon at the radio station. Management told the sales and programming staffs to meet in the conference room at 3:00 P.M for an announcement -- some folks weren't as lucky. They were invited to an earlier meeting at 2:00 P.M. where they were fired. I mistakenly figured this out when I arrived early for the 3 P.M. meeting and noticed both desks of my colleagues were emptied. All the papers pinned to their bulletin board: gone. All their personal items (photographs, press credentials, and fan mail): gone. The radio station did flip formats that following day resulting in half the air staff being dismissed. The lesson I learned that day: it's never a good thing to be invited to the meeting before the meeting.

10,000 Maniacs "These Are Days"

Even though Natalie Merchant sings "These are the days..." in the song's opening line, the title actually is "These Are Days". Any person graduating from high school or college during the early to mid-'90s likely got weepy listening to the lyrics --they're akin to Macklemore and Kesha's current hit, "Good 'Ol Days".

The morning of the final radio show I produced in 2004 combined nearly every imaginable emotion. It's unusual that you know it's your last show but, in this instance, we all knew (even though our bosses didn't tell us) and still promised to do the best show and go out on top. As the hour turned to 9:00 A.M., the show became more music-intensive. At some point in our final hour, "These Are Days" played and a lump formed in my throat. Within minutes, I would no longer work with two of the most talented folks from that little studio where we broadcast the best little radio show (no one in Chicago knew). I learned so much working together during those early hours. Lessons about life, comedy and the power of family happened daily. Heck, at this point, the three of us in that room were family.

By 9:50 A.M., the morning host turned on the mic one last time to say "goodbye" and he immediately broke down in tears. It actually caught me off guard and knocked me out of my emotional state. I had to be strong, I thought to myself. Between tears, he thanked our listeners, thanked management for the opportunity and then signed off. After a quick group hug, the last thing I remember was watching every single phone line into the radio station light up and flash continuously until our boss walked into the studio and escorted us out of the building. It was my first time being "on the beach"...

Leo Sayer "More Than I Can Say"

When management changes the format of a radio station, your days of working on-air are toast. Generally, format changes are researched, planned out well in advance and are top secret among management. However, word usually leaks out. In my case, a tough-as-nails sales executive who wasn't the most pleasant person tipped me off an imminent format change and cautioned that my job soon would be gone. This selfless act provided me with enough time to get all my audio files, PR contacts and resume in order well before I was shown the door. To this date, I still thank this person whenever I see her.

The Pointer Sisters "Slow Hand"

Just before WPNT-FM in Chicago flipped formats to "Windy 100" (WNND-FM) in October 1997, the station scheduled a "close but no cigar weekend". That particular specialty weekend featured songs that went all the way to #2 on the charts, but failed to get to to the top spot. The station wound up firing its airstaff that Friday morning and went into "stunt" mode all weekend teasing a "big announcement Monday morning at 10am", so the "close but no cigar weekend" never materialized. (Why I remember all of this is still a mystery to me.) "Slow Hand" was The Pointer Sister's contribution to the specialty weekend that never was. The song peaked at #2 on the Hot 100 in 1981.