Maisie another time. Right now, time was of the essence. I had a show to do!
Chapter 7
There was just time enough for a cup of coffee and some breath mints before hitting the studio.
“Holy buckets!” Vera Mae said. “You’re cutting it close, girl. Heard about the murder on the set. Were you there when it happened?”
I nodded. “Front and center. I’ll tell you all about it after the show.” I threw my purse on the console and grabbed the press kit Vera Mae had left out for me.
I knew my guest had already checked in, because I’d spotted Dr. Lois Knudsen, a serious-looking woman in a boxy navy blazer and white skirt, sitting in the reception area. She looked exactly like her publicity photo, except that on the cover of her new book, she was talking to a bemused-looking ferret.
Dr. Knudsen is a “pet psychologist” who has managed to snare some media attention with her new book, How to Talk to Anything with Four Legs. I have no idea if she’s actually a licensed psychologist, or if her “doctorate” was awarded by a diploma mill. In any case, her book is getting a lot of buzz, and Vera Mae, a big-time animal lover, seemed excited that she was going to be on the show.
Vera Mae is the guardian of Tweetie Bird, a listless blue parakeet, who accompanies her to the studio every day. Cyrus tried to block Tweetie Bird from WYME on health grounds, but relented when Vera Mae threatened to quit on the spot. She’s strictly a love-me-love-my-bird person, and besides, she knew Cyrus would never find another radio producer willing to work for the low salary he pays her.
I make it a point never to chat with my guests before the show. Instead, Irina takes them to the Green Room, where they can relax and have bottled water and snacks before hitting the studio. I find it makes for a better show that way. Somehow, the dialogue seems more spontaneous if I meet the guest at the same time the listeners do.
“Live in ten!” Vera Mae yelled, as I took my seat at the console. Irina whisked Dr. Knudsen into the studio, handed her a pair of headphones, and darted out the door.
“I’m Maggie Walsh, Dr. Knudsen. Glad to have you on the show.” I stuck out my hand before slapping on my own headphones and was rewarded with a limp handshake. It felt like I was grasping a damp tilapia. Dr. Knudsen nodded vaguely at me, then slipped her headphones over her tightly coiled gray hair, and stared blankly at the console. Maybe I imagined it, but I think she heaved a bored sigh.
Uh-oh. My Deadly-Dull Guest radar was in overdrive. Maybe Lois Knudsen was tired from a long book tour? Or maybe she was just a lousy conversationalist? I can usually tell in the first thirty seconds whether a guest is going to be interesting and dynamic on the air, or a complete dud.
I was getting very bad vibes from She Who Speaks to Our Four-Legged Friends.
Was it possible that the good doctor was only comfortable talking to four-legged critters and not to humans? Hardly an encouraging thought. I wished I’d taken more time to read her book last night; I’d only skimmed the first couple of chapters.
This might be a long two hours.
I gave a slightly gushing introduction. (Freud would probably say I was overcompensating for my really not liking the guest. Reaction formation, he called it. It means you go overboard being nice to someone you secretly loathe.)
And then Vera Mae opened the lines for questions, and to my surprise, all the buttons were flashing. Her Marge Simpson hairdo tipped precariously as she bent toward the mike. “Dr. Maggie, we have Doris, on line three. Doris is from Hollywood Beach, and she has a question about her parrot, Hercules.”
“A parrot?” I said slowly. “I’m not certain that birds fall within Dr. Knudsen’s area of expertise . . .”
“Of course they do,” my guest snapped. “I’ll be glad to take the question,” she said testily. “Go ahead, Doris.” I noticed she used the caller’s name, so maybe she
Chapter 7
There was just time enough for a cup of coffee and some breath mints before hitting the studio.
“Holy buckets!” Vera Mae said. “You’re cutting it close, girl. Heard about the murder on the set. Were you there when it happened?”
I nodded. “Front and center. I’ll tell you all about it after the show.” I threw my purse on the console and grabbed the press kit Vera Mae had left out for me.
I knew my guest had already checked in, because I’d spotted Dr. Lois Knudsen, a serious-looking woman in a boxy navy blazer and white skirt, sitting in the reception area. She looked exactly like her publicity photo, except that on the cover of her new book, she was talking to a bemused-looking ferret.
Dr. Knudsen is a “pet psychologist” who has managed to snare some media attention with her new book, How to Talk to Anything with Four Legs. I have no idea if she’s actually a licensed psychologist, or if her “doctorate” was awarded by a diploma mill. In any case, her book is getting a lot of buzz, and Vera Mae, a big-time animal lover, seemed excited that she was going to be on the show.
Vera Mae is the guardian of Tweetie Bird, a listless blue parakeet, who accompanies her to the studio every day. Cyrus tried to block Tweetie Bird from WYME on health grounds, but relented when Vera Mae threatened to quit on the spot. She’s strictly a love-me-love-my-bird person, and besides, she knew Cyrus would never find another radio producer willing to work for the low salary he pays her.
I make it a point never to chat with my guests before the show. Instead, Irina takes them to the Green Room, where they can relax and have bottled water and snacks before hitting the studio. I find it makes for a better show that way. Somehow, the dialogue seems more spontaneous if I meet the guest at the same time the listeners do.
“Live in ten!” Vera Mae yelled, as I took my seat at the console. Irina whisked Dr. Knudsen into the studio, handed her a pair of headphones, and darted out the door.
“I’m Maggie Walsh, Dr. Knudsen. Glad to have you on the show.” I stuck out my hand before slapping on my own headphones and was rewarded with a limp handshake. It felt like I was grasping a damp tilapia. Dr. Knudsen nodded vaguely at me, then slipped her headphones over her tightly coiled gray hair, and stared blankly at the console. Maybe I imagined it, but I think she heaved a bored sigh.
Uh-oh. My Deadly-Dull Guest radar was in overdrive. Maybe Lois Knudsen was tired from a long book tour? Or maybe she was just a lousy conversationalist? I can usually tell in the first thirty seconds whether a guest is going to be interesting and dynamic on the air, or a complete dud.
I was getting very bad vibes from She Who Speaks to Our Four-Legged Friends.
Was it possible that the good doctor was only comfortable talking to four-legged critters and not to humans? Hardly an encouraging thought. I wished I’d taken more time to read her book last night; I’d only skimmed the first couple of chapters.
This might be a long two hours.
I gave a slightly gushing introduction. (Freud would probably say I was overcompensating for my really not liking the guest. Reaction formation, he called it. It means you go overboard being nice to someone you secretly loathe.)
And then Vera Mae opened the lines for questions, and to my surprise, all the buttons were flashing. Her Marge Simpson hairdo tipped precariously as she bent toward the mike. “Dr. Maggie, we have Doris, on line three. Doris is from Hollywood Beach, and she has a question about her parrot, Hercules.”
“A parrot?” I said slowly. “I’m not certain that birds fall within Dr. Knudsen’s area of expertise . . .”
“Of course they do,” my guest snapped. “I’ll be glad to take the question,” she said testily. “Go ahead, Doris.” I noticed she used the caller’s name, so maybe she
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