Frenchy's Rant

I sent Northwest an e mail about this a few weeks ago, but never heard back. Maybe I will have better luck with a letter. Their website says they will respond within sixty days. We’ll see.

Northwest Airlines
Customer Care
PO Box 1908
Minot, ND 58702

Dear Customer Caregiver,

As a frequent flyer, mostly on Delta, I would like to first thank you for allowing me to accumulate Delta miles even when I am technically flying on a Northwest airplane. Very generous! I want to surprise the family with a trip to Dayton, Ohio, and every little hoarded mile helps!

Recently, I have become aware of what I consider a discriminatory policy of yours. It seems there is now a $15 extra charge to sit in an exit row. As a very frequent traveler that puts a high value on my life, I have to tell you this policy sucks. When flying, I always try to sit in the exit row, not only for the extra leg room, but also to be closest to the way out in case something bad, I.E. a ‘water landing’ happens. When I say to my fellow exit row seatmates, “If there’s a problem, just follow me!” I’m not kidding. I want OUT!

While I haven’t had to use an over-wing exit door yet, I don’t think it should cost $15 extra for the privilege. You should reconsider this outrageous charge. There are many other ways you could bilk passengers out of $15. Pay-Per-View Porn and Pay-Per-Use toilets are two things that immediately come to mind.

Think about it.

Sincerely,

Frenchy the Frequent Flyer.

PS: Northwest flight attendants are much nicer than Delta’s!

Everyone has a defining moment, an event that changes or shapes a career.

When I first started working in television, I would take pretty much whatever job came my way. Didn’t really matter what or where it was, work was work, and as a tadpole freelancer, you don’t turn down work. You don’t know if that phone will ever ring again.

Once, I accepted two back to back jobs three hundred miles apart. After the first game, I drove three hundred miles, slept in my truck for an hour, worked the second game, then drove all the way home.

I would do pretty much anything, carry cables, pick people up at the airport, whatever it took. I was always interested in audio, so I started learning how to set up microphones for sports events.

I was called to do audio for an interview one day. This work is usually easy, mostly consisting of putting a microphone on a subject, then trying to stay awake while they talk and talk and talk. Since I’d worked every day that week, I was pretty exhausted. I barely managed to stay awake.

The producer looked over at me and said, “Were you just SLEEPING?”

“No, Sometimes I like to close my eyes so I can concentrate on the sound without distraction.”

“And your snoring doesn’t distract you?”

Sometimes it isn’t so easy.

The moment that made me decide that I wanted to mix in a TV truck instead of being outside the truck was another interview. I was working as an audio assist (A2) at a college football game. My job was to set up all the microphones for the mixer (A1) in the truck.

We had to interview the coach before the game. (I don’t remember his name, but this day is burned into my brain.) My job was to put a lav mic, a tiny microphone that usually clips onto a tie or shirt collar, on the coach.

I walked up to the coach, lav mic in hand, and said, “Hello, Coach. I need to put this microphone on you for the interview.”

Scowling, he untucked his shirt, indicating he wanted me to run the microphone wire up his shirt and clip it to his collar. Reluctantly, I started this unpleasant task.

Halfway up, I was convinced this guy was wearing a damp sweater under his shirt. That, or he was half man, half sheep. Whatever it was, he was HAIRY and it was GROSS.

As I was trying not to vomit, he looked at me and leered, “I bet you just LOVE that, don’t you sweetheart?”

And with that little statement from Freako the Sweaty Mammoth, I knew I was done. I couldn’t do this job any more. I needed to learn to mix.

And so I did.

Years after the UnderSweater incident.

A few months later, I was called by CNN to cover a press conference. Of course, being a freelancer with a day off, I accepted the job, without knowing what the job really was.

The press conference was for the resignation of Man-Beast the Disgraced Wooly Coach.

This is the second in a series of letters I am sending to various companies. I hope this one works out!

Guinness & Co.
St. James Gate
Dublin IRELAND 88

Dear Mr. Sir Alec Guinness,

Your beer is the absolute best! I love the way it makes me feel, from the very first creamy pint right up until the tenth or so. Any more than that, I usually find myself crumpled in a heap in the gutter, or I wake up with several black eyes. But that doesn’t stop me from loving your beer! No sir! In fact, it is all a part of what I like to call the ‘Mighty Guinness Adventure.”

Each little pint of heaven contains only 210 calories! People on diet plans can substitute a pint of Guinness for a cup of skim milk and still lose weight. Brilliant!

But that’s not why I am writing today. I noticed that Guinness sponsors American Basketball (most likely called something like ‘Handball‘ in Ireland, the same way that American Soccer is known as ‘Football‘ over there.)

I am one of the lucky few working on the crews that televise those NBA games. I was wondering if it would be possible for me to be sponsored directly. For example, in exchange for wearing a Guinness brand T-shirt and hat to all NBA games, you could supply me with a home tap and keg system, and free beer for life.

I know for a fact T-shirts get results. Once in Alabama, a local resident read my shirt and mistook me for a genius! Had I been sponsored, I would have replied, “Why yes, I am a genius, thanks to Guinness!” Another Brilliant! idea if ever there was one.

Please get back to me as soon as possible to discuss keg and beer shipment, as well as discuss other endorsement opportunities.

May the Force be with you, noble Jedi brewmaster!

Frenchy
Emmy Award Runner-up Audio Mixer

PS: The old man version of Obi-Wan Kenobi was my favorite! Except for Chewbacca!

I have found what has to be one of the word’s worst jobs.

I had dinner last night at the Pelican Restaurant on Miami’s swanky South Beach. Eating at a sidewalk table, the collagen and silicone freak parade seems endless. The food is delicious, the waiters attentive, courteous and prompt, and as I mentioned, the sights are incredible.