Moving to a new town really stinks.  You don’t know anybody, you don’t know where to shop or to eat out, and you can’t contact your old friends because your cable and phone lines don’t work.  Naturally, you tried to get these things activated before you moved into your new place, but silly you opted to buy a condo. 

For reasons unknown to humankind, all the great package deals on phone and cable service get tossed out the window when you add the word “condo” to the mix.

“Oh, is that where you live?” is all the cable lady had to say after I spent 30 minutes listening to her spiel about cable service and signing on to her great phone/cable/Internet connection combo deal.

“We don’t handle those types of residences,” the phone company lady sniffed.

“You mean nobody else in my building has ever made a phone call?”  I exclaimed.

“Not though our wires, they haven’t.  They wouldn’t dare!”

Yikes!  So how’s a person to meet new friends?

I discovered that there’s only so much small talk you can make with a condo concierge who pretends that he’s turned on his hearing aids.  In desperation, I grabbed a copy of the local newspaper to see what my tiny town had to offer.

Not much.  I did learn that the high school cafeteria would be serving “shepherd’s surprise” this week and that the Town Hall was giving deep discounts on flu shots, in honor of flu season’s end, about 6 months ago.  I was getting so upset that I nearly opted to drop everything and run to that evening’s town meeting, which promised to be a “lively debate about the new dry cleaner on West Street.”

Thank goodness, that’s when a tiny advertisement caught my eye:  “Volunteers wanted.  Local cable access station is looking for enthusiastic volunteers to work in our town’s television station.  We will train you.  Call Bob to learn more.”

Not that I had ever considered doing anything that had anything to do with anything television, mind you.  My life revolved around number crunching, after all.  But I desperately needed to meet people outside my office.

Come to think of it, I didn’t know anybody inside the office either.  I was so excited to buy my very first, very own accounting firm, the former M. Gleckman and Sons, that it never occurred to me that the entire M. Gleckman and Sons family and M. Gleckman and Sons staff would disappear once I had moved in.

And they took all but one of their M. Gleckman and Sons clients with them.

Turns out that I already knew the remaining client:  Mr. Unplugged himself, my very own condo concierge.

Being that I couldn’t telephone the local cable station, I opted to walk over and introduce myself to the station’s one and only professional staff member.

Being that Bob the Stationmaster felt as bored as I did, he gave me the grand tour.  He showed me the control room, the studio, and his office.  End of tour.

Next, Bob the Stationmaster taught me how to use the huge station cameras.  That took a whopping three minutes even though I had never operated anything more high tech than a CVS throwaway camera.  Yes folks, the truth is, it’s EASY to operate those monstrous cameras (provided you don’t have to deal with any of the wiring).  On your right is the zoom in and out button.  Focus is on the left.  The three camera locks are the most complicated things you have to deal with.  Two locks prevent the camera from going sideways or up and down.  The third locks the wheels in place.  If you make the locks too loose, the camera will decide when it wants to move itself and where it wants to go.  If you make the locks too tight, you’ll have the battle of the century trying to move the thing in time to get just the right shot. 

All instructions are relayed to you through a set of headphones.  You also get a mike that allows you to talk to the director and the other camera operators.  Just be sure to switch your mike on.

Once Bob explained all these things to me, he signed me up as a regular cameraperson for The Jackie T Show.  I had no idea what The Jackie T Show was (being that I had no cable service), but I liked the idea of joining a team.

As it turned out, Jackie T is our town’s answer to Oprah.  Although Jackie T’s show airs just once a month, and you can only view it if you live in our town, the guests she attracts would blow your mind.  Thanks to Jackie T, I’ve met internationally recognized pop stars, acting legends, financial gurus, and newscasters. 

When I asked Jackie T how she convinces these big names to come all the way to our little town and be interviewed for free for a program whose most loyal fans are the parents of Bob the Stationmaster, she just laughs and says, “I always get what I want.”

Unfortunately, most times what Jackie T wants can be a little bit weird.  Like the illustrator who showed up in a pair of paint-splattered shorts.  And nothing else.  Or the author of 23 books who had yet to have anything published.  Then there was the guy who banned all pen owners from his pencil museum.

Needless to say, I wasn’t a bit surprised when tonight’s guest turned out to be a psychic.  Who showed up 20 minutes late because she got lost on her way to the studio.

For tonight’s taping, Bob assigned me to camera 1 and he asked me to double as floor manager.  Floor manager is fun because you get to “Give Jackie T ‘the finger’.”  That’s our little joke for saying that the floor manager gets to point at Jackie T when it’s time for her to start talking.  I also get to direct all the action on stage and use my head set to relay information between the control room and the studio.

The cool thing about camera 1 is that it’s located right on the soundstage instead of the floor.  Not that our soundstage is any marvel.  It’s just a platform that’s about one foot off the floor and just big enough to accommodate two chairs, a table, and the camera.  And a background of oversized, fake plants that continually jump out of their containers during the filming.

I suppose that a normal cable station would simply eliminate those pesky fake plants.  But with our limited budget, we can’t afford to buy calmer furnishings.  So, Bob simply mikes all the plants and puts them on a separate audio track.  The plants can crash and burn all they please during the filming, and Bob simply erases the noises from the tape.

Sadly, there’s not much Bob can do to remove the suicidal plants from the video portion of the show.  And yes, before you ask, we once spent the better part of an hour trying to anchor the darn things without having the anchors show up on screen.

We ended up with this elaborate rigging of fishing wire, which actually worked really well.  Until one famous comedian decided to inspect our foliage.

“Are those real?” were the last words he uttered before tripping over our invisible anchors.

His curiosity cost him an hour and forty-five minutes with the fire department, the jaws of life, and Bill the town selectman, who comes in to film “Senior Safety Tips.”

Bob the ever-clever Stationmaster managed to turn this disaster into his lead story for our weekly newscast.  It won an award for local reporting, and nearly made it onto national news, until the comedian threatened to sue us.

But I digress.  All you need to know is that camera 1 is up on stage with Jackie T and her guest.  Which means that sometimes, I’m standing about 5 feet away from the rich and famous.  And, about 3 inches away from the edge of the stage.  I keep joking that this is a recipe for disaster, but I haven’t fallen yet.

In answer to your next question, yes it is quite the thrill to stand so near to a celebrity, call him or her by her first name, and order them about.  “Is everybody in the studio ready to begin?  Please stop bouncing in your chair.  No, we don’t like it when you burp into your microphone.  You need to get that green thing out of your teeth.” 

On the other hand, since I stand so close to the celebrities, I really must behave myself.  For starters, I have to keep my facial expression neutral or the people on stage will see me.  And I have to watch what I relay over the headset to Bob and his control room assistant Mia.  Sometimes I stand so close to the celebrities that they can even hear me whisper.  Behaving myself wouldn’t be so difficult, if I didn’t have Bob and Mia making continuous wisecracks in my ears.  The other two camera people, Joe and Hannah, get to make wisecracks too, and the celebs can’t hear them.  It’s not fair!

I suppose my straight face routine will come in handy if I should ever get a job as a guard at Windsor Castle. 

To her credit, Jackiet T likes the show to have a polished, professional look.  She makes sure that the entire crew shows up an hour early to rehearse everything from giving her “the finger” to rolling video clips she wants to add to the show.

So there we were, the crew was rehearsed and in place, the psychic was seated, and Hannah was closing the studio door when she suddenly gasped.

“Hey, there’s a limo outside.  Jackie T, are we expecting another guest?”

Jackie T brushed aside a wayward curl.  “No, the limo must be headed elsewhere.”

“Raga Champa,” the psychic suddenly intoned.  “What does that mean to anybody?”

Hannah gave a strangled yelp.

“Bob,” I reported into my microphone.  “We have to wait a minute.  Hannah is strangled up in her wires.”

“Again?”  Bob moaned.

“Correction,” I corrected.  “Hannah is not strangling in the wires.  She’s actually thrown off her headphones and now she’s playing charades.  She’s jumping up and down and pointing at the limo.”

“And making the strangling sound,” Joe added.

“Must be another wedding party heading to the Legion Hall,” Bob decided.  “Tell Hannah to get back to her post.”

“Hannah,” I called.

“Ravioli!” the psychic screamed.

“Does our guest want us to order out?”  Bob asked me.

“Hannah,” I tried again, “Close the door and...”

“Ravioli Shiny Car!” the psychic decreed.  “Harriet’s Krispy Kremes!”  The psychic began rocking and chanting.

Jackie T patted the mystic on her back.  “Maybe you want a glass of water?”

“Uh, Bob,” I started, “I think I’m losing control of the studio.”

“What’s going on in there?”  Bob demanded.

I yelped and lowered the volume on my headset.

“Hairy Christmas!”

“How about some tea?”  Jackie T asked.  “Maybe a coffee?  Can somebody get the psychic a coffee?”

I grabbed my headset.  “I don’t know what’s going on or why, Bob, but Hannah has left the room and Joe just followed her.”

“HANNAH!”  Bob’s voice erupted through the building.

“Uh, Bob.  Hannah’s back now.  Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Um, well, Joe had to drag her back to her camera.”

“Drag her?”

“By her ankles.  I think she’s...”

“Hairy Ramen Noodles!”

“I’ll get you an instant soup.” Jackie T patted the psychic’s knee.

“Yeah, I think Hannah fainted.”

“What?”  Bob barked.  “Say that again.”

“Fainted, fell down, unconscious.  And Joe’s now shaking in a corner.”

“I’m coming in there!”  Bob decreed.

“Okay,” my voice wobbled.  “But first there’s one more thing you need to know.”

“My Sweet Ford!”

“Besides the psychic’s car remark.”

“What?”  Bob roared.

I lowered the volume on my earphones to their bare minimum.

“Jackie T is now shaking hands with Paul McCartney.”

“What’s he doing here?”  Bob shrieked.

My voice cracked.  “Do you want me to relay that question to Jackie T?”

“Uh, let me think about it.”

Fortunately, Bob the Stationmaster was denied that decision.  “What are you doing here?” the psychic demanded of the musician.

“I got an invitation,” Paul replied.

“He got an invitation,” I repeated into my microphone.

Jackie T’s hands flew to her mouth.  “Oh, Paul, that was for next month’s show!”

“Oh sorry,” Paul apologized.  “Should I leave then?”

“Govinda chocolates!” The psychic exploded out of her chair and pushed Paul into her former seat.  “I must wash my hands.”

Paul shrugged and smiled at Jackie T. 

“Well, Sir Paul, do you want some tea?”  Jackie T asked.

“Uh, Bob?  The psychic is out washing her hands, Sir McCartney is now sitting in the psychic’s seat, and Hannah is smiling in her sleep.  No, wait a minute.  The psychic has just tripped over Hannah, and Hannah is now waking up.  Joe’s foot is caught in his camera wheel.”

“Great,” Bob muttered.  “It’s going to take us half the night to figure out what to do now that we have two completely unrelated guests.  How are we going to fit a third chair onto that stage?”

“Uh, Bob?  Bob, Joe is holding up a sign.  It says, “Is this supposed to be a live show or just a taping?”

“OH NO!!!!!!!” 

Joe and I both tore the headsets off our heads.

Paul raised his eyebrows at me.  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

I kept my expression bland.  “Everything is completely under control,” I assured him. 

Paul pointed at my headset.  “Uh, don’t you need to be wearing those thingies?  I can hear a voice coming out of them.”

“Right, I was just relaxing for a minute,” I nodded and put my headset back on.

I smiled pleasantly for Paul as Bob the Stationmaster filled my ears with words he could never say on television.

“We’re doing a live show tonight,” I informed both Paul and Jackie T.

“Right, sounds good to me,” Paul nodded.

“You are clean!”  The psychic pronounced as she tripped over Hannah again.  “Arise and greet your new selfless self.”

Looking pale and dazed, Hannah obediently rose and tried to set up a two-shot of Jackie T and Paul.  The psychic stood behind her and waived her arms over Hannah’s shiny, red hair.

“Joe, please focus your camera on our new guest,” Bob said through the headphones.  “No, the guest, Joe, not the overhead spotlight.  Joe?  Joe?  What’s going on?”

“Uh, Bob?  Yeah, it’s not Joe’s fault.  The psychic is, uh, cleansing Joe’s camera.”

“Cleansing the camera?  Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“In that case, I have another question.  Are the clocks in here okay?  Because it looks like it’s a quarter to eight, but my watch says...”

“Oh God,” Bob wailed.  “We’ve got ten seconds.  Everybody has to be ready.”

“Excuse me,” I blushed as I interrupted a whispered conversation between Jackie T and Paul.  “We’re on in 10 seconds.”

“Where’s the psychic?”  Bob demanded in my ears. 

“Uh, she’s doing something behind Joe.  I think it’s position five, if I remember my two minutes of ballet lessons correctly.”

“Right,” Bob said decisively.  “Tell Jackie T that we’re going to skip the psychic show and go live with Paul.”

“Excuse me,” I said to the people on stage.  “We’re going to just do this show with Jackie T and Sir McCartney.”

“Five second countdown!”  Bob shouted.

I held up my right hand.  “We go live in 5, 4, 3...”  I counted down as Bob cued me.  Then I gave Jackie T the finger.

“Good evening.  I’m Jackie T and this is...”

“Friar Parka!” the psychic sang as she leapt onto the stage and stood behind Paul’s seat.  Paul tried to turn, but the psychic directed him to sit forward.

“Bob...” I began.

“My parents are going to kill me,” the Stationmaster wailed.

Pasting a smile on her face, Jackie T introduced the psychic and Sir Paul McCartney.  “So Sir McCartney...”

“Please call me Paul.”

“Okay, Jackie continued smiling, “Paul.  What does...”

“Maya love mean to you?” the psychic interrupted.

The professional entertainers opted to ignore the psychic.  “What does it feel like to be so successful?”

“Well,” Paul turned toward the camera.  The smile disappeared from his face.

“Camera 2, camera 2!”  Bob shrieked.  “No, Mia, I didn’t mean go to camera 2.  I meant avoid camera 2.  Go to camera 1, quick.”

“Hannah fainted again,” I reported.  “And she forgot to lock the camera wheels.  She just skated into the stage.”

“Camera 3!”  Bob cried.  “No Mia, no, I meant what’s happening to camera 3?”

I swallowed.  “Uh, Bob.  Joe looks worried about Hannah so he’s now chasing after her.”

“Why is his camera bucking up and down?”

“Uh...” I caught a frantic look from Jackie T.  I gave her a hand cue to keep the guest talking.

“That’s very interesting,” Jackie T said automatically.

Paul furled his brow.  “What did I say?” 

Jackie grinned too broadly.  “Moving on to our next question...”

I moved my microphone closer to my mouth.  “Bob, Joe forgot to remove his headphones when he decided to chase Hannah.  So he’s now wrapped in all these wires and trying to drag the camera...”

“I don’t want to know!”  Bob wailed. 

“Then think about this, I whispered.  “You can’t just use my camera all night.  All the viewers will see will be Jackie T and the psychic’s left elbow.”

“Oh God,” Bob wailed.  “Okay.  I don’t care how you do it, but push Hannah away from her camera and re-focus it on both speakers.  Quick!  Jump!”

I took Bob’s command literally.  Too literally.  I jumped off the stage without removing my headphones.  My camera leapt after me and pinned me to the floor.  I could hear both Bob and Mia pounding on the control room wall.

Ever the consummate host, Jackie T bravely forged on.  “Paul, tell us about a typical day at your house.”

“Well, first we...”

“Bungle a dashboard!”

“Right,” Paul coughed at the psychic’s outburst.  “And then we...”

I heard a bang, but I had no idea what it was until I felt the camera being lifted off me.  Bob the Stationmaster to the rescue.

“What camera are you using now?”  I whispered as Bob and I lifted camera 1 back onto the stage.

“Hannah’s,” he whispered back.  “It’s showing a close up of Paul’s throat.  We’ll move to your camera as soon as you...  oh, who cares about focusing.  Just aim it in Jackie T’s general direction.”

Continuing to work together, Bob and I pulled Hannah and her camera back into position and locked it in place.  Hannah slumped against the floor.

We looked at Joe, who was giving us the thumbs up sign.

Bob shook his head.  I returned to my camera, and Bob headed back to the control room.

Jackie T inhaled.  “Paul, you’ve had quite a long and varied career.  How do you envision yourself over the next ten years?”

The psychic clamped her hand over Paul’s mouth.  “I get the impression that you need new strings on your ukulele.”

Paul blinked, then gently removed the psychic’s hand.  “Well, over the next couple of years I’d like to write some more classical music.  And I’m thinking of...”

“That chord progression that you’re using on your yet unreleased album,” the psychic motioned as if she were removing something distasteful from Paul’s shoulder.  “You took that off the Cloud 9, you did, and I told you back in those days...”

“I did not steal that from you!”  Paul jumped out of a chair and brandished a fist at the psychic.  Then he blushed and sat.  “Uh, sorry,” he blushed again.  “I guess I’ve been feeling a little bit stressed lately.”

The psychic wrinkled her nose.  “You need to meditate more often,” she informed him.  “Repeat after me.  ‘There’s no place like Om.’“

“Oh God,” Paul muttered and rubbed his eyes.

“Exactly!” the psychic brightened.

“Oh God,” Bob moaned in my ears. 

I squinted.  “Uh, Bob?  Joe is holding up another sign.  It says ‘When does this show end?’“

“When does it...  oh no!”  Bob yelled.  “We just lost the first seven minutes of Karen’s Kitchen.  Tell Jackie T to wrap it up.

I jumped up and down to get the host’s attention.  Then I dragged an index finger across my throat.  Jackie T reached out and grabbed both of Paul’s hands.

“I’m so sorry,” she smiled broadly, “But the time has gone too quickly and we have to close the show.”  Jackie T turned and faced my camera.  “This is Jackie T, and our guest tonight has been Sir Paul McCartney...”

“And Harri Georgeson!” the psychic shrieked.

“Look for us again next month,” Jackie flashed her teeth at the camera as Bob yelled “That’s a wrap!”

Suddenly, there was completely silence in the studio.  Paul wiped his brow.  Jackie T continued to grin as she eyed me.  “Tell me honestly, how bad was it?”

“Uh, well, none of the plants fell,” I began.  “And I’m pretty sure that Hannah’s snores can be eliminated from the soundtrack.

“I need to wash my hands!” the psychic announced as she stomped off the stage.  “And then someone needs to tell me where I can find a great restaurant.”

“Well, Paul shook his head and grinned.  “I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

“Me neither,” Jackie T laughed.  “You know, Paul, I’d really love to have you back on the show next month.  Without the psychic, of course.”

Lisha Goldberg is a freelance writer and editor. She also writes a newsletter for a Boston piano studio. Lisha has won several prizes for her writing, including the Boston Herald Star Trek Competition (write a eulogy for Captain Kirk!), CompuServe's Beatle Essay Contest, and Writers Digest Magazine Award for best Inspirational Short Story.