My hope for this blog is that it will offer a behind the scenes look at the intricacies that help keep this little miracle called WFMU up and humming. For the benefit of listeners who live too far away to volunteer, who are too painfully shy to come to the Record Fair, or who are too fat to squeeze through our doorway anymore, I humbly offer the following look at the pasty innards of WFMU. Today's episode focuses on LUNCH.
Lunch is a family affair here at WFMU. Which is to say, all the members of the daytime office staff sit together at a big round table, eat their respective meals, and generally get into a heated discussion about something of peripheral importance, at best.
But I love lunchtime here because it's heavily steeped in tradition. And who doesn't love tradition? WEIRDOS, THAT'S WHO.
Who's responsible for this mess? The Cast of Characters:
Ken -- He's the Station Manager and he eats the exact same lunch every single day: Tacos. Legend tells of a time when Ken brought frozen lasagna for lunch, but that was before my arrival here at the Magic Factory. The story goes that not only did he eat the frozen lasagna, but that he made everyone else eat it too. I'm glad I missed out on this era of WFMU.
Megan -- She's the WFMU Swag Hag Listener Services Director, and has the most varied palate of any of us. She generally brings her lunch from home, as opposed to trying her luck with the local takeout joints, and I''ve seen her produce everything from sushi to beef burgundy from her tupperware containers.
Scott Williams -- The Volunteer Director. Scott is a pure and natural carnivore who wholly endorses the "If it was alive recently, I am going to eat it and you and your pantywaist friends aren't going to stop me" theory of culinary enthusiasm. He is also the first of WFMU's three coffee snobs.
Bill Zurat -- He is our computer whiz guy. He keeps the webstreams workin' and the archives chirpin'. Bill eats Alphabits Cereal for lunch every day, but prefers the 1's and 0's for obvious reasons.
Brian Turner -- He is the Music and Program Director (or the Camp Counselor to the Stars, as we sometimes refer to him.) Faced with tough professional challenges on a daily basis, Brian needs more raw nutrients than the rest of us combined. To wit, every day at 1 PM, Brian sits back in a reclining chair and opens his mouth in a heavenward direction. A plastic tube descends from the ceiling, goes into his mouth and pumps a grey vitamin paste directly into his stomach. Usually, a volunteer will stand over him with a copy of The Wire or Black to Comm held in front of his face. Brian slaps the table when he wants the page turned.
Liz -- WFMU's long-sought Assistant General Manager hasn't been around these parts long enough for me to have figured out her luncheon preferences. However, she took no time in revealing that she is also a major coffee snob. Her first official act in her new job was to get all of us hooked on some exotic blend of coffee that comes from the future. Or propels you there with great velocity, at any rate.
Me -- I am WFMU's Special Events Director and complete the trinity of WFMU's coffee snobs. I eat whatever the hell I feel like eating, but mainly keep an eye on the coffee pot to make sure the Enemies of Progress (Ken and Megan) don't try to sneak a cup from the pot before it's done brewing, thusly destroying the delicate integrity of the entire pot. The two of them try this on an almost daily basis and their tactics get lamer and lamer as time goes by. When they are caught, which is almost always, they are chased back upstairs and threatened with a large wooden spoon.
Lunch Conversation: Welcome to the low-class tea party:
We mostly stick to classic topics like the cinema, politics, who sucks the most at karaoke, popular literature, modern fashions, celebrity gossip, and the needless slaughter of the innocents. At times of special celebration, we actually talk about music.
Acid Reflux Party: Release the Hounds!
Devout listeners know that there are a lot of dogs here at WFMU. After the coffee is made and we are preparing to climb back up that great spiral staircase to the stars, Ken's dogs are given their daily workout. This requires each of us to surrender a portion of our own lunches to Nachum, who mixes the tacos and sushi and beef burgundy and Alphabits and vitamin paste into a big pot. Then he wads the mixture into balls, roughly the same size as the kind you'd play tennis with if you'd put down the 20-sided dice for a few minutes.
Nachum then takes the foodballs and squats on a brightly colored surfboard outside his office door at the end of the hallway. Ken restrains the dogs by their collars, Megan yells "PULL!", and Nachum fires a foodball at 90 MPH down the hallway towards the waiting pooches. The dogs are released, run towards the hurtling treat, up a ramp, into the air, past the painting of Osama bin Laden, and whichever one catches it is given a doggie treat and a pat on the head by the Cosmic Cowboy.
Then we go back to work.
Next time: "Gettin' Busy on Monty." Or: "Why are there so many used condoms in WFMU's parking lot"?