We all knew it was going to be bad news. That Wednesday afternoon, Feb. 25, 2009, the publisher of Radio & Records, had called a “Town Hall” meeting for all staff, both on the East and West Coasts. He, in fact, had flown from New York to L.A., along with the head of human resources. If that’s not a sign, then the sky is green.

Our New York bureau comprised the smaller group of staffers for R&R—my editor P, a sprinkling of fellow editors and writers, and the charts department—all shared with Billboard. As the conference call began at 3 p.m., we shifted anxiously. “As we all know, these have been difficult times in publishing, with ad revenues down and a challenging economy,” H, the publisher began. “Unfortunately, today is not going to be a good day for R&R. There are going to be layoffs.”

And then—in what might possibly be among the cruelest, if not least professional methods to follow up such an announcement—we were told to return to our desks and wait for a phone call, which would then reveal our fate. Apparently, the publisher was a pro when it came to “Layoffs for Dummies.” I sat, locked at my cubicle, explaining this unorthodox maneuver to my Billboard co-workers, when… ring.

It was editor P, asking me to join him in the human resources office. It took all of two seconds to figure this one out: My boss is calling. He sounds tense. If I’m staying, why would I be called into human resources? Standing up, I announced, “It’s me.”

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