In the listener’s shoes

Last week, I texted a radio morning show. Not one I work with, but one I was listening to on my way home from morning school drop-off. The show players were sharing their  embarrassing moments in meetings, and had asked the audience to text their own. I pulled over to reply because I had a story (!!!), and then I continued my drive, curious and a little excited to see if they would tell my story on the radio. 

I heard the follow-up break, but my text was not one of the three they read. I was surprised how disappointed I was. I wondered how many texts they had received. I compared my story to those they read. I turned off the radio feeling a little lame for even trying.

I have no idea whether they received my text, liked it, or used it later, because I didn’t hear back from them, not even an automated bounce-back, let alone a personal “Oh no, hahaha, how embarrassing!!” 

It’s intimidating to call a show. It’s time-consuming to craft a text. It’s unnecessary to comment on a radio station’s social posts. My recent experience was a reminder to me of how it feels to be in the listener’s shoes. A little acknowledgement would have gone a long way.