Say What?

"See, there goes another one." My lovely wife was looking out our window the other night at a car driving up our hill. It had a spotlight aimed at the side of the road. I missed it, choosing to focus on the television set, which kept reinforcing to me that the Mets weren't playing baseball that evening. "Look!" My peripheral vision caught it this time. Another car, this one driving down the hill, spotlight aimed at the other side of the road. "They must be looking for something," she said.

I wanted to say something witty that would impress upon her that I was still worth the 16 years of marriage she had invested in me. I shrugged.

Another car sped by. "They won't find it driving that fast," I said. We live on a quiet street. It felt like rush hour on 80 West in Parsippany.

And then the phone rang. "Uh oh," she said. The girl (she's really a woman) must be physic. Why else would she utter the phrase that has signified dread since we were tots on a playground looking at the big kids and their natural desire to bother & harm tots? I picked up the phone, banishing images of angry juvenile death-row-wannabes from my brain.

"This is the Wayne Police Department." (Note: I live in Wayne. There. Now you know. Our story continues...) "A 74-year old man with Alzheimer's, wearing a gray jacket, is missing. He was last seen at the bottom of the Greater Media Radio Guy's street. If you can assist in the search or have seen the man's whereabouts, please call whatever our number is." The message started up again and I listened again since I'd already forgotten most of the important stuff. When I hung up, I knew there was a reason for my wife's "Uh oh."

Somebody was missing.

As I saw another car zoom by my house, I thought how they'd never find the man driving so fast up a dark street (we don't have streetlights in most of Wayne; we use the moon one week of every month). I'd already walked the dog, but she's always up for another opportunity to lick foreign substances (use your imagination), so I threw her leash on and we went searching for a lost human.

It was at this point that I began to think about the message on the phone and how it related to radio advertising. Really, I did. Here's why: First, I had to hear the message twice for it to start to sink in. Even after two times, I still didn't remember everything that our pre-recorded policeman said. With radio, the goal is to have listeners hear your message three (3) [III] {tres} times; it takes that many listens for an interested party to tune in and absorb what it is you have to say. I'd been interested. I just hadn't heard the message enough times to remember it all.

Second, the message had a strong intro: "A 74-year old man with Alzheimer's, wearing a gray jacket, is missing." That hooked me right away. But after that, the message kind of lost me. What was the man's name? How did they expect us to take action? If I found him, should I have befriended him or should I have assumed he could easily kill me (it's not that hard)? I realized that I was kind of walking in the dark, both figuratively and literally. The message was incomplete and, therefore, not satisfying.

In looking around as the dog sniffed and licked and I walked, I realized the message didn't matter much to my neighbors. Either nobody was home or nobody cared to look for the missing man. It was just one dog with an undisciplined tongue, me, and cars driving too fast to see anything. The large family pet and I looked into car windows in case the guy crawled into a Subaru looking for some warmth. Nothing. We looked in our back yard, under trees in big yards nearby, and through some woods across the street. Nothing. At the top of the hill, I could see through the trees to the other side of my little lake community. There were firetrucks out, lights ablaze. I had a feeling there were teams of guys patrolling the water and lakefronts. I felt bad for the family of the missing man as I removed the dog's lips from something shaped like a small carcass and headed for home.

I crawled into bed that evening wondering what had happened with the man. If I was a 74-year old guy, would I want to walk up a hill on a cold night? I figured no. The lake seemed like an odd choice too. He had to be somewhere. And that's where I found fault with the message in a third way: There was no closure. Think about a typical commercial for a Macy's One Day Sale. It has a beginning, middle and end: "Come to Macy's for our One Day Sale, Saturday between 8AM and 8PM." There. Done. We know everything in that one sentence. The rest of the commercial is what's exactly for sale and more reasons why we should go. And they probably tell us two more times that it's a Macy's One Day Sale this Saturday between 8AM and 8PM.

The message from the police wasn't constructed as well. Granted, they didn't have a multi-million dollar agency craft the words and use auditory psychology when they put it together. But they did miss something. I mean, a great message would have gotten more than 1 goofball and his poorly-dieting dog to get off the couch and help, right? Don't you think? Or is it true, I am truly the only Mets fan left in America? In either case, it's too bad I didn't see more people out there. Maybe we could have found the guy.

Postscript: I found out what happened from a fireman the following day. The man, who lived in Bloomingdale, simply walked home without telling anyone. He was safe. The family was relieved. And all was well in Doggywood. Oh, and the Yankees would go on to win the World Series.

See you in spring training.

SONG OF THE DAY

WMTR plays some of the greatest music every recorded. The song in my mind today is "Cuddle Up" by the Beach Boys, a group who you hear plenty of on "Classic Oldies" 1250 AM. Enjoy.

Thanks for reading!
Dave

David Philp
Account Executive
WMTR-AM/WDHA-FM
Greater Media Broadcasting
55 Horsehill Rd. Cedar Knolls, NJ 07927
ofc: 973-538-1250 x1377
e: dphilp@greatermedianj.com
fax: 973-538-3060