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A busy weekend, part 2
Regarding this post, oh yeah, the 26th was my birthday. Also, there were some things that could have changed the schedule which I didn’t mention originally.
- I received a text on Thursday the 23rd from a school that I did on-call teaching for — to see if I could fill in as a substitute on that Friday. I saw my existing schedule and declined.
- I received a text on early Friday morning after my Thursday overnight shift to see if I could do 3pm-11pm or 6pm-2am instead of the overnight shift (which would have worked out better). I didn’t see the text in time and that request was no longer necessary by the time I saw the message.
Then, the following weekend, Oct. 31 to Nov. 2, it was supposed to be this schedule:
- Friday, 31st: online class from 12-2pm (after my Thursday 11pm-7am in-studio commentator job), then in-person tutoring from 3-5pm, then an on-call in-studio commentator shift from 11pm-7am
- Saturday, 1st: hockey doubleheader (be at the rink by 1:30pm), followed by a regular in-studio commentator shift from 11pm-7am
- Sunday, 2nd: hockey doubleheader (be at the rink by 8am).
A few days before the 1st, I received notification that the hockey doubleheader will be a single game both days of the weekend. One of the teams (the one that lost 12-0 and 19-0 the weekend before) was having its games postponed, lessening my workload. (A few days later, the team announced it was folding for the season. I checked the remaining schedule for the season; with this team folding, there won’t be any more scheduled weekend doubleheaders for the rest of 2025-26.)
Also, I was notified early Friday morning that the on-call Friday night Halloween shift became a regular shift.
So, it became Thursday overnight, sleep a few hours, online class on Friday starting at noon, commute to an in-person class, rest a few hours, commute to the Friday overnight, sleep a few hours at home, commute to the hockey rink on Saturday by 1:30pm, finish hockey by 5pm-ish, return home for some rest for a couple of hours, do the Saturday overnight shift, then Uber home to get ready for hockey at 8am on Sunday morning.
I did all of the shifts without missing a beat. Sure, I was tired, but things went all right.
Oh yeah, the Saturday overnight shift was an hour longer — because the clocks moved backwards that weekend on Sunday morning at 1am/2am. So, it was nine hours for the overnight shift. Fortunately, there was a two-hour break due to scheduled monthly maintenance work on the equipment that we use in the studio.
A busy weekend (Oct. 24-26, 2025)
It was a busy weekend from Oct. 24 to 26, 2025.
These days, I have teaching/tutoring as well as hockey commentary, and I also recently began work as an in-studio/on-camera games commentator in the gaming industry. (There were 11 of us being trained at the same time; on the first day we were asked to say why we wanted to work there, and my answer was succinct: “I would like to be on camera.”)
My in-studio work is all overnight shifts, eight hours daily ending at 7am.
So, the weekend of Oct. 24 to 26 presented an interesting schedule.
I had a 3-5pm in-person tutoring session on Friday the 24th. Then I returned home to sleep for a few hours before commuting to my overnight in-studio/on-camera commentating work. That finished at 7am, and I returned home to sleep for a few more hours before heading to the hockey rink at 1:30pm. It was a doubleheader slate but I stayed only for the first game and left after that contest (around 5pm) due to some family emergency. Then I returned to the in-studio overnight job and again that finished at 7am.
Next, I returned home and then commuted to the hockey rink at 8am for another doubleheader. I stayed for both games this time. The second game ended around 2pm, and then it was returning home again for some much-needed rest. (Note: It wasn’t easy; it was talking non-stop for the in-studio commentator job, and then the Saturday hockey game that I did play-by-play for, the opposition won 12-0. On Sunday, the early game ended 19-0 for the opposition. So, none of that was easy.)
The weekend of Oct. 31-Nov. 2 will present a similar challenge. I’ll be back to post about it!
Life lesson #314 – I’ll continue in spite of…
Well, I’m going to say this again, and yes, I’ve said it before several times.
I’m a pleasant person. I’m normally cheerful. I’m nice.
But in the city that I live in, maybe people just look down on others. As an Asian person, I can say for sure that multiple times I received poor service in restaurants, even before the pandemic. In other situations, people just seem to have no time for me. It could be a group setting and I’m literally ignored by others. When I do try to speak up, I get talked over by others and they appear oblivious to what I’ve said. I could say, “Well, my arm is sore today because…” and I get cut off like I didn’t say anything.
Or it would be something like, “Oh, what you’re saying doesn’t affect me, so I’m not going to listen to this story.” Or something like, “Who cares?”
I had a former boss named Ian who did that. This was about 15 years after I’d last worked for him — we had still kept in touch all these years after I’d left his school. He asked me something. I explained it. And his next comment was “So what?” in a patronizing tone. It was a question about why I wrote my 1988 Dodgers book. I said Fred Claire suggested it because it was the 30th anniversary of that season (back in 2018), and Ian’s response was “So what?”
I was offended and didn’t return his texts for a day. After that, he disowned me.
More recently, I had another boss (who kept insisting she wasn’t a “boss” but her business card said “….Manager” — so that counts. But she was helping me move to my new place sometime ago, and I invited my sibling to live there because my sibling didn’t have a home — and of course my sibling was supposed to pay rent. Yet my boss — jokingly — said that if I was “mean,” then my sibling did not need to pay. I found that to be offensive and not amusing whatsoever.
I had a parent who also said that my sibling could pay well below market value for rent. Well, that’s cute but why am I expected to support my (older) sibling who gets angry if I said I didn’t want to pay for the rides that my sibling sometimes provided me. I’d rather take Uber if I had to. I’m basically losing money every month because of the below-market-value rent that my sibling gives — and a few times the cheques were postdated — and so that boss thinks it’s funny that if I, as a positive and cheerful/upbeat person was “mean,” the sibling didn’t need to pay.
There are people out there who will not and do not respond to polite messages that I send. I suppose I am viewed as an annoyance or below their level, and so I do not even warrant any sort of response. It’s as though I’m a non-human in those specific people’s eyes.
I’m surrounded by people who just don’t want to listen to what I say, likely think I’m some sort of dirt below their shoes, etc. Through their actions, it’s as though they don’t think of me as a human being — which really means they don’t want me to succeed. By that logic, they don’t care enough about me and/or want me to fail. As Hathaway’s character said in The Intern (2015), her mom was a “terrorist.” By that logic, I would not be out of line to say those people around me are terrorists, too. Not everyone, obviously, but quite a lot.
In spite of all that, I’m someone who’ll continue to try my best in my daily life. And I’ll continue to be upbeat and cheerful.
“I Guess I’m a Dumbass” — My Podcasting Story So Far
People think I’m an idiot. I don’t know why exactly—but I feel it when they scoff at me for doing a podcast. It’s a hobby. I like I enjoy conversations, asking questions, putting together ideas. I write all my interview and conversation prompts myself. I do it because it’s something I care about.
For a while, I outsourced the editing. I wanted to save time and thought getting a professional to handle the technical part would be worth the cost. I paid someone—let’s just call her my podcast editor—for that work. And man, that decision taught me a few hard lessons.
Here’s what happened:
1. Intro Music Drama
I wanted the intro music to be 15–20 seconds. She cut it to 5. Her reasoning? “Anything longer will turn away listeners.” Okay, I thought, maybe she knows more than I do. I trusted that feedback. In hindsight, it was just the first red flag. My vision was getting tweaked in the name of “audience appeal”—without actual audience input.
2. The Book Title Butchered
I interviewed an author whose book was titled Race Against…Against Race. Yes, the repetition was intentional—it was part of the book’s message and structure. But the editor decided that the repeated “against” must’ve been a mistake, and every single time the title came up, she cut it down to Race Against Race. Totally changed the meaning and made me sound like I didn’t even know the name of the book I was referencing. I had to ask her to go back and fix every instance. She wasn’t happy about it.
3. Private Conversation Left In
I did an episode with a retired goalie. At the end of the recording, there was a private conversation I explicitly told her to remove. Guess what made it into the final episode? Yep. That private part. Had to ask for another fix, and by then, I was already exhausted by this whole “outsourcing” thing.
4. Fast Cuts with the San Diego Chicken
This one still bugs me. I had the chance to interview the famous San Diego Chicken. It was a fun, natural conversation with human pauses—normal pacing. But the editor decided to cut all the pauses. The result? I came off as someone who kept cutting him off, over and over. Her explanation? “People don’t want to hear pauses—they want fast-paced flow.”
Really? Is that what podcasting’s about—sounding like a robot?
After all that, I decided to stop using her. It was costing me money, time, and worst of all—my voice. I was paying for “professional” editing but ended up feeling like I had to recheck every second, every word. I wouldn’t be surprised if she used AI to do most of the work, barely listened to the content, and still sent an invoice.
The last straw? She made a comment mocking me for podcasting as a “hobby.” That stung more than I expected. I was paying her, trusting her—and in the end, I got mocked for caring about something.
So yeah—maybe I’m a dumbass. Or maybe people just don’t get that doing something for love, not money, doesn’t make it worthless.
This is still my show. Still my hobby. Still my passion.
You don’t have to be famous or paid to create something real.
Wait… there’s more. Think that editor was bad? She’s just part two of the saga. Part one started with a “friend” who thought charging $500 for basic advice was totally normal.
Before I even recorded a single episode, there was this one “friend” who gave me a masterclass in how not to help someone
5. The $500 “Friend” Who Failed Me Twice
Before I even started the podcast—back in 2020—I reached out to someone I thought was a friend. He’d been doing podcasting longer than I had, so I figured: why not ask for some tips? I was brand new and just trying to get my footing.
He said, “Sure, I’ll help you out. I’ll even write everything down for you—what gear to buy, how to get started, what software to use…”
Then came the punchline: $500.
Just to tell me what mic to buy and how to hit record.
Oh, and a fee for each episode he’d help produce going forward.
Seriously?
This was stuff I ended up researching and figuring out on my own in less than an hour. But he tried to turn it into a full-on business transaction. This wasn’t mentorship or friendship—it was a sales pitch.
And the kicker? This same guy had already failed me twice before that.
Failure #1:
He once interviewed me for his podcast, back when I was still new and inexperienced. During the conversation, I was fidgeting with my keys—not realizing the mic would pick up all the noise. He had the experience. He should’ve said something during the recording. Instead, he just let it happen. I only found out about it after the episode was published—and by then, I sounded like a distracted amateur.
So much for the seasoned vet looking out for the rookie.
Failure #2:
Another time, I was a guest on his show again—this time to talk about a book I’d written about a baseball player. He completely butchered the player’s name. Over and over. I had even told him beforehand how to pronounce it, and he still got it wrong throughout the conversation.
He thought it was funny.
I didn’t.
And I’m sure the player wouldn’t either.
So this guy, who had twice shown a lack of care, preparation, or professionalism, suddenly wanted to charge me $500 upfront and then ongoing fees to help me with my own podcast?
People really will sell you back your own common sense and call it expert advice.
Needless to say, I didn’t take the offer. I figured it out on my own. And honestly, I’m glad I did.
I’m either not good enough or dead…or both
I’m either not good enough or dead…or both.
I remember decades ago I had a “friend” from high school named Edward. When he was depressed because he liked this girl Ann but she didn’t like him back, I was on the phone with him counselling him and helping him stay calm. When he was in love with his BCIT classmate later on—and I happened to, by pure luck, work with her at Superstore—once again I was always on the phone to calm him down.
But when I got a different job after finishing university, working as an office assistant in a small company as I was still trying to figure out what I wanted to do for a career, Edward disowned me. I happily told him about my new job, and he scoffed and said, “Pffft. You mean you’re a secretary.” I said I wasn’t—not that there was anything wrong with the secretary profession—but Edward kept insisting that I was merely a secretary. That was rude.
I don’t think he reached out anymore. He essentially disowned me and thought that I wasn’t good enough anymore or that I was dead to him.
There was another classmate named Victor. I guess he was raised in his culture to look down on those who are in lower standing in society and in life. I still remember in the final years of high school when the counsellor or someone coming to our class to give us information about the universities we could apply to. When the information about colleges was being given, Victor scoffed in a way that seemed to suggest colleges were beneath him.
Victor was another one who disowned me. I ran into him and his girlfriend while I was taking a Saturday class to get my teaching license. He looked up and saw the small school building where I was a student and scoffed and said something negative about the school. He promised he’d call me. He never did.
Years later, I was in another company. There was a semi-retired woman that I supervised named Valerie. She wanted to look for a new opportunity with BC Hydro and asked me for a reference. I gave her a glowing reference when the hiring department phoned me. She got the job and left our company. We kept in touch. When I eventually left the company because it had become toxic due to the management in place, I reached out to Valerie and said I’d left that company. Valerie never returned my messages even though she’d still exchanged messages while working at her BC Hydro job. It was only after I announced that I had left that company that Valerie stopped communicating.
Likewise, there was a friend named Kori, an older immigrant lady that I had befriended. Kori had told me that she had another friend who said something like, “I only watch blah-blah show on TV.” Kori dumped that friend, thinking that if someone said something like that, it proved to Kori that the person was uneducated and very small-minded, someone not ambitious enough and not willing to improve. So, I should have realized that when I messaged Kori that I had left the job, she would stop contacting me. I didn’t know or realize beforehand. But when Kori stopped communicating, it became clear.
Is this how our society operates?
I’ll say the title again. I’m either not good enough in people’s eyes or dead. Or both.
k. p. wee 