Trade Show Guru

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My Wife is Famous

January 20th, 2009 · 21 Comments · Random Stuff

Just like when you’re designing trade show booths and it’s critical to pick a clear and compelling tag line, when you’re writing a blog post, it’s equally important to pick a clear and compelling post title, preferably with your targeted keywords in it, and with a twist or teaser that will make a reader or searcher want to click through. Well, based on that, I’m not sure I picked a good title for this post (maybe I should stick to just writing about trade show booths). My options for the title were, “My Wife is Lucky”, “We Won”, “Some People have all the Luck,” “We’re (not) Going to Disneyland”, “Why Do I Always Pick the Wrong Line”, and “My Wife is Famous.” I decided on the last one, although now the title “The Rambling Trade Show Booths Guru” seems appropriate. Feel free to let me know what title you would pick for this post…

Anyway, this past weekend we met some friends for an afternoon at the zoo. When the zoo was closing we decided we should all head over to their house for dinner. They had everything they needed to make us a tasty spaghetti dinner, except for the spaghetti pasta. I volunteered to stop at the supermarket on the way to their house to pick up some spaghetti. When we got to the supermarket, I told my wife and kids that they could wait in the car while I ran into the store. I found the spaghetti fast enough, but then picked the wrong line for checking out. I think it’s genetics… no matter what line I pick at a store, it always ends up taking the longest. I just wish there was a way to make money with this “talent” that I have. Anyway, ten minutes later I finally paid for the spaghetti and left the store. When I got back to our car, my wife and kids were screaming…

I didn’t take that long in the store, I though, but that’s not what my wife was screaming about. She had just WON! It turns out it was fortuitous that I took so long in the store because while I was in there, my wife and kids were listening to one of the bigger LA radio stations on our car radio (not everyone in this country has an iPod). During a break, the DJ announced that he had a “four pack” of tickets to Knott’s Berry Farm (an amusement park) to give away to the 30th caller. My four-year-old son heard this and said to my wife that she should call in, so on a whim, she did. The first time my wife called she got an “all circuits busy” message, but she called back and got through. The DJ told her she was the 30th caller! SCREAM! What luck, and perfect timing as well. We’ve been talking about taking my son to Knotts’ for his fifth birthday, which is why he recognized the offer and told my wife to call (I’m not a fan of over-priced, crowded amusement parks, but going to them on rare occasions is one of my fatherhood duties).

I’ve never called a radio station. My wife says she and her friends used to do it when she was a teenager, but she never has since then. Well, when she told me that she’d called in and won, we all screamed together, “We’re going to Knott’s!”  We then listened through two more songs for the next commercial break, and then had the immense pleasure of hearing the DJ come on with a recorded version of the phone call. We heard him telling my wife she was the winner (SCREAM!) and then asking her what her name was and what her favorite radio station was. All of Southern California (or at least those people listening to 104.3FM that day) got to hear my now famous wife answer those two questions.

I can’t say that I’ve ever had a similar encounter with fame. I did get to meet Bill Cosby when I was in high school, and I’ve had letters to the editor published in two different newspapers (do people still read newspapers today?), but I’ve never had my voice on the radio, much less broadcasted throughout Southern California.

So have you had a brush with fame?

UPDATE 1/22: I guess I should know better since I did write about when free aint free. At least free aint simple in this case. The radio station called to tell my wife she could come in and pick up the tickets. Since we live about 70 miles away, she asked if they could mail the tickets. No problem, they said, we just need you to fill out some paperwork and fax it back. They then faxed us a 6 page document with three pages of forms to complete and fax back, along with a copy of her drivers license and a Federal W9 with her social security number. ARGGHHHHH!


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