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| Character | Brett | |
|---|---|---|
| Gender | Female | |
| Age Range(s) | Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50), Senior (>50) | |
| Type of monologue / Character is | Talking to the audience, Reminiscing life story/Telling a story | |
| Type | Comic | |
| Period | Contemporary | |
| Genre | Comedy | |
| Description | DJ Training - Brett talks about the training she received to become a disc jockey, one of a long line of jobs she had which didnt last very long. | |
Summary
Brett talks about the training she received to become a disc jockey, one of a long line of jobs she had which didnt last very long.
Written by Jass Richards
| Excerpt |
|---|
| Most people are surprised to hear that deejays are professionally trained. Indeed we are. Not all of us, of course. There are many imposters out there with their rec room stereos and their K-Tel collections. But in order to become a licensed deejay, you have to go through intensive training for two whole weekends. Three of the four days are spent discussing equipment, troubleshooting, emergency repair, and maintenance. On the third day, we were tested. We were put in groups of four, and each group was assigned a set of equipment that had been sabotaged in some way. One group electrocuted itself. They failed. Another group had a loose connection. Couldnt figure it out. A third group had been supplied with a mono jack instead of a stereo one. So no, it wasn't the speaker. Our group had to build an amplifier with just a piece of string, some bubblegum, a toaster oven, and an instruction manual translated from Japanese. I alone succeeded. Bob, Sam, and Marty refused to read the manual. During lunch, we had fun with the strobe light and the disco ball. Well, except for Arthur. He had an epileptic seizure. (Good to know. For the Epileptic Association's Dinner and Dance.) Then we discovered the karaoke machine. I love music, and I love to dance, but I cannot sing. So when it was my turn, recalling Limp Bizkit's version of "My Way," I screamed out the words with frenzied urgency: "I left my heart in San Francisco!" The first line alone cracked me up and I could go no further. The last day focussed on music styles, tempos, and how to put together a set and stereotyping how to make generalizations about what kind of music people like based on their age, sex, clothing, and food preferences. "So you mean my seventy-year-old grandmother can't possibly like Offspring's 'Why Don't You Get a Job?'" I asked. Our trainer, Mr. Music Please, said, "No, she'll like Tommy Dorsey. For her, you would play 'I'll Be Seeing You'." "Would not." I borrowed the guy-next-to-me's cell phone. "Hey Grandma! It's me! Do you like Tommy Dorsey? 'I'll Be Seeing You'? "Yeah, there's this guy here saying that seventy-year-old grandmothers like Tommy Dorsey. That's right. 'I'll Be Seeing You.' "Yeah. I know. All right. I will. Yeah. "Right now? Okay." I turned, grinning, from the phone to Mr. Music Please. "She says to tell the asshole she'd rather hear AC/DC. "Yeah. Love you too Grandma. Bye." I handed the phone back to the guy-next-to-me. "Thanks." ***** |
