I often wonder if the public radio shows hosts really sound like that in their regular life. I mean, we all laugh about it, there are SNL skits about it, but really, do they walk around all mellow and low tones like that ALL THE TIME? Do they ever shout? What happens when they’re mad or have a road rage moment?
So, I thought I’d try it.
I didn’t tell anyone I was going to do it. And yet I was certain it would become almost immediately obvious to others, because I tend to be....well, loud. And honestly, the first couple hours really went well. Of course, I spent them in complete silence, working at my computer. But on that screen, I was at least able to freely use multiple exclamation points and even SHOUTY CAPITALS all I wanted. The true test was yet to come...
I left to go pick up Emily from school. This was the day she would take her road test to get her driver’s license. And for me, this presented what I knew very well might be the end of the whole experiment, because the last time Em and I had been out together with her doing the driving, the NPR voice just wasn’t going to cut it. Example: I shouted “STOP” two different times as she was about to hit another car. She had suggested during that car ride that I should have simply said calmly and quietly “Be careful so you don’t hit that vehicle” (btw, in the time it took me to say ‘be careful so-”, we would have hit the car). But, I digress.
She got in the car and we started speaking, Emily in normal voice and me in my NPR voice. Everything was going pretty well, and even when I felt I could barely hear myself, she seemed to have no trouble hearing me. But then, a song we both like came on the radio. She sang along, but I couldn’t figure out a way to sing and stay within the NPR voice. In fact, one of the things I found I missed most the entire day ended up being singing along obnoxiously loud to all my favorite songs. The only one that worked at all was “My Future’s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades” (stop judging), to which I sort of “talked” along with the music in my low, breathy tones. The disappointment of the whole moment is difficult to describe.
Emily passed. I wanted to shout with her, but instead, I asked in a lowish monotone, “Should we jump up in the air together?” I guess she was too distracted with her own happiness to notice the ironic contrast of what was going down. We jumped, but my jump didn’t feel as good as they do after and/or during a “shout”. I didn’t even raise my arms. Geez.
The rest of the day moved along and I continued to be surprised that nobody asked me to speak up. Even at Chipotle (so loud there!) I was heard just fine asking for my beans and salsa.
By the end of the afternoon, I was really irritated with myself. The entire thing was making me tired. I felt like a big breathy nothing of a person. I wanted to sleep it all off. I wanted to scream. My throat felt weird. Why was I even doing this? But, I needed to see it through, dammit.
It happened to be Valentine’s Day, and so we had our family “heart shaped” party and compliment box opening. There are many of us, and on holidays things always ramp up in volume, so I anticipated it was only going to be a matter of time before I was either called out on my ridiculous voice or just lost it altogether and ended up shouting something loudly to be done with it for once and for all.
But you know what? Nobody even noticed. I was asked to repeat myself several times, but nobody questioned it. I took big, deep and intentional breaths as I waited for everyone’s attention before I read one of the compliments or I just talked and realized that half of the people weren’t hearing me at all. It’s a bit of a pride swallower for a loud lady like me who is used to being heard and commanding attention.
Interestingly, I envisioned that the day was going to end with a shout. Or with a laugh about what I had done. Or with some big revelation about the whole experience. Or at least an eye roll from one of my kids at the crazy stunt that I was trying to pull off.
but. they. just. didn’t. even. notice.
Here are some sweeping generalizations I’ve made about the whole speaking in the NPR voice thing:
1. It DOES make you more boring. Take this blog. It’s my worst one yet. It’s like the creativity was sucked out of me somehow through lower volume, lack of vocal inflection and limited intonation.
2. I don’t need to be so loud, but I will continue to be. Example...I found myself shouting “fuck” loudly a couple of times today at my desk (calm down, it’s a home office and nobody was even here) just because I could. The issues I screamed about weren’t even that big a deal. It just felt good to do it, you know?
3. My family is loud. Even the people who THINK they are quiet are loud. You can defend them by saying it’s learned behavior from living with me. Whatever. I’m just saying...they’re loud.
4. If I was ever to be a radio DJ, I’d be destined to be on one of the annoying morning shows where they play top 40 music and talk stupid while the rest of us drive in to work.
5. I need to get out more.
