The ‘guests’ in our homes are leaving, reluctantly
"The best gift I was ever given by Mum and Dad was a portable radio that I took everywhere with me and went to bed every night with it next to my bed."
Iconsider myself lucky - not quite so much presently, however - I knew from the age of 6 what it was that I wanted to be when I grew up. That dedication and drive never wavered. Not once.
I wanted to be a broadcaster. I grew up listening to Sunday morning stories on the radio and a personal favourite, was Lindsay Yeo and Buzz’o’bumble on Wellington’s 2ZB.
The best gift I was ever given by Mum and Dad was a portable radio that I took everywhere with me and went to bed every night with it next to my bed.
It even had a little earpiece with it, so when I mowed the lawns or helped in the garden, I could take my little treasure with me and listen to it. Music, news and sport. The lot.
When we were living in Foxton and I was about 11, there was a spate of earthquakes that frightened the living daylights out of me.
It was the evening announcers on the radio that calmed me down and talked about the fact that it was just “the Earth doing its thing” and talked about the practicalities of it and I felt instantly better.
It was then that I realised the power of a good broadcaster and the profound difference being a good communicator could make.
I was also lucky because I was young for my Year 13 (7th Form). I didn’t turn 17 until the May of my final year which gave me a chance to have a gap year to work five jobs and save for NZ Broadcasting School.
Getting into our National Broadcasting School in Christchurch was no mean feat. They only took 19 from around the country. I was accepted from little old Whanganui.
At that stage there were radio courses and journalism courses, they were different, but kind of the same. In my year, Mike Mcroberts and Paula Penfold were studying journalism.
I started breakfast radio at the age of 19 and in the time since I have seen massive changes to the industry. In fact, it would be fair to say, that there were restructures every few years that left a lot of nervous employees wondering if their job was safe.
I have never travelled overseas, because you were made to feel that, if you left, someone else would take your place and you wouldn’t get your job back and I didn’t want to take the risk. As a result, I’ve had the odd two-week trip around the Pacific, but have still never seen the world. A regret that I hope to remedy one day.
I have also always written while in broadcasting, for newspapers and magazines, so am also a journalist to a certain degree. A lot of radio is by its very nature journalism and the whole industry has just been blown apart.
The recent announcement from TVNZ and Newshub is going to change society for people who have watched those faces and programmes for years.
Poof – now you see them, now they’re gone. Familiar faces will disappear from our screens and there will be hundreds of people in the broadcasting industry looking for jobs.
While I accept why this has happened, my sense of pity for all concerned is palpable. I’ve been in their shoes.
Radio changed in the 30 years I was in the business and that was mostly due to the exponential rise of social media.
Not so long ago I asked a 28-year-old colleague if she had seen a certain item on the news the night prior and she said “we don’t own a TV, we watch everything online”.
My daughter never watched TV when she was living with me, everything she needed was on her phone.
She is no different to anyone of a certain age, but a loss of this magnitude has come as a shock to everyone – I can only imagine how the staff members waiting for the death-knell to fall are feeling. Sick, I would imagine.
There is a book the whole country could do with reading at the moment. It’s a book by Spencer Johnson and it’s called Who Moved My Cheese?
It’s about how to handle change, which (let’s be honest) most people don’t like at all.
The change that is about to happen on our screens and the familiar faces we love are going to change.
This is personal. The reason for that is these people who work so hard for us and fought so hard for their positions are in our homes. We feel we know them like they are part of the family.
I also feel sorry for the young people who are like I was, who had a desire to be in what I consider the best industry in the world and now have nowhere to go.
Kia kaha to all concerned.