Reality is Sometimes Really Disappointing
Remember: TV isn’t real, but people are.
Note: The underlined words link to other stories where I have gone into more detail.
In the final episode of the Gilmore Girls TV series, Babette (Sally Struthers) breathlessly tells Luke (Scott Patterson), “I checked The Weather Channel and sure enough Nick Walker confirmed it; there’s a storm front moving in over Connecticut.” Then she adds, “Are you a Nick Walker fan?”
Luke shakes his head decisively and flatly replies, “No.”
I have a confession: Though it was pretty cool to be mentioned on such a popular TV series, this dialogue creeps me out a little bit. Here are two fictional characters in an imaginary setting acting out a made-up story talking about someone I always thought was real: namely me. But when I think about it, I realize that the interchange is also a reminder that the character I portrayed on television for most of my life might not have been as real as some people believed, but at the same time, more real than some people wanted.
Let me explain. Viewers can be harsh judges of reality, as they are quick to prove on social media. Many can’t abide misspeaks, even from live television where much of what is said is ad lib. They don’t allow any word jumbles. No crooked ties or hairs out of place. No statements that contradict the viewer’s preconceived opinions. Some criticism is valid, but many people just can’t tolerate from on-camera people a lot of things that are simply common to most other imperfect humans.
I guess that’s probably because a lot of TV viewers, whether they realize it or not, tend to look at people hosting news and information programs one dimensionally. What I mean is, these folks assume that a media “personality” doesn’t just do a job; but that he or she is the job. To some viewers, the sum total of a broadcaster’s identity, character, substance and usefulness to humankind is the role that person plays on television. TV stations’ promotions departments often play into that by working to create an “image” for their on-camera “talent,” and most of the time the talent goes along with it.
But here’s something we all know but sometimes forget: What we see on TV isn’t real. Not even “reality television” is real, and TV news and weather is the ultimate reality TV. Humans are complex, and a lot goes on below the surface during a broadcast. For example, countless times I have gone on the air forcing myself to be energetic while hopelessly sleep-deprived. Once I did an entire show straight-faced while my wife was at home in labor. Two times I went on the air (trying to smile) mere minutes after being told I was losing my job. Another time I helplessly hit the airwaves seconds after learning one of my children had been rushed to the hospital from an accident three thousand miles away. All this, for a live program that required a casual and friendly delivery, yet intense concentration on the clock and to in-studio logistics, while at the same time staying updated on the latest information and improvising most of the script on the spot. Friends have asked me, “How did you manage that?” The simple answer is, it was my job and I liked doing it. The more complicated answer is, I didn’t always manage.
TV people try to put their best foot forward on camera, but often there are messy things going on off-camera. They have family issues. They argue with their spouses. Often their teenage kids think they’re dorks. Their lives, often like their shows, are loosely scripted, so they mess up. They say and do awkward things; they sometimes act impulsively.
On the other hand, like everyone else, they have hearts. They love. They need love. They hurt. They get lonely. They sometimes watch Pixar movies and cry in their popcorn. And though they try not to, every once in awhile, especially on live TV, broadcast professionals accidentally reveal their awkward human parts over the airwaves. No one on TV is flawless, and no amount of experience or education or input from talent coaches can completely change that.
For some people, that’s infuriating, or at least confusing, especially when they see someone they watch on television actually living a messy life on-camera. Whether it was mispronouncing the name of their town, or inadvertently getting a weather statistic wrong, or on an early-morning show sleepily pointing to Ohio on the map and saying “Iowa,” some viewers have been puzzled by my untidy presentation. I have talked to enough people in my field to know I am not alone in my feelings. It’s no wonder so many broadcasters suffer from a specific form of “imposter’s syndrome,” not because they’re not knowledgeable or good at what they do, but because they know something that some of their viewers don’t—that they’re only human.
I have always enjoyed getting to know people before they know anything about my job. One year at my son’s high school band fundraiser I worked at the cake sale table with a fellow human whom I later learned was a huge fan of The Weather Channel. Not recognizing me in faded jeans, tee shirt and baseball cap, she was later mortified to learn she had been working alongside “one of her favorite weathermen” without knowing it. As for me, I appreciated our conversations about subjects that had nothing to do with TV.
I’ll never forget the visit with a former classmate at my 40th high school reunion. Back in the early 70s he and I had sat together in class every day, and four decades later we had a great time reminiscing about old times. Not once during our discussion did he ask about my career. As we parted company, I handed him a business card and asked him to keep in touch. He stared at it for a moment, and then looked up at me in shock, blurting, “You mean to tell me that you’re the Nick Walker who’s on The Weather Channel?”
I was, but I wasn’t.
My favorite “non-recognition” incident came when I was checking in at a medical facility. As the aide was typing in my vital information she looked up from her computer and asked, “Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like that guy on The Weather Channel?” Before I could answer, she glanced down again at her screen and exclaimed, “And what’s really uncanny is that you both have the very same name!”
I am fortunate to have friends and family who know me. They’ve seen me angry. They’ve seen me dejected. They’ve grown accustomed to my tired jokes, my clumsy habits, and even my opinions that don’t always line up neatly with theirs. And guess what? They like me anyway. What’s interesting is that some of them have never been regular TV watchers. They have rarely messaged me on Facebook asking about the weather. They have never asked for an autographed picture. Guileless of all are my grandkids, who have never been impressed by my career; they know that it’s their Poppy who plays tickle monster and hide-and-seek with them, not some weatherman.
Nevertheless, there are those who prefer semi-fiction over reality. I do not fault them; I usually enjoy novels more than the news. Illusion is safer, more agreeable and easier to critique. I’ll never forget when, during my first TV job out of college, I needed to pick up something from the drugstore early in the day. Without showering or shaving, my hair askew and facial blemishes uncovered by makeup, I stepped to the counter. The clerk stared at me a moment, then asked, “Are you that guy on TV?”
“Uh…yes,” I said hesitantly.
Her face revealed that somewhere in her mind a bubble had burst. Choosing her words carefully she remarked, “Um, you look very different on TV.”
I felt like I owed her an apology. Yes, I looked different, but I was the same guy, just not the one she was expecting.
That’s because reality isn’t always handsome, charming or faultless. But the one thing that it does have going for it is this: its characters aren’t always fictional.
© Nick Walker 2021
Fortunately, I don’t have to do anything to impress these people:
