Lofty by Lofty Fulton

Author:Lofty Fulton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-01-21T16:00:00+00:00

13

DO YOU OR DON’T YOU?

SHEPPARTON IS IN THE heart of the Goulburn Valley, Victoria. It’s an incredibly rich and fertile part of the country with rolling hills, green pastureland, rivers and lakes. It is also a big producer of Australian pantry staples. Headquartered there are SPC (Shepparton Preserving Company), Goulburn Valley canned fruits and – just over the bridge – Ardmona. Driving through the centre of town, I could see the fruit (pardon the pun) of all this industry. Never had I seen so many luxury cars; current model Mercedes Benz, BMWs and Ferraris were everywhere. It was a mind-blowing display of wealth and diametrically opposed to what I’d grown up with in Launceston. That’s not to say people in Launceston don’t drive luxury cars; it’s just that you’d rarely see so many of them in one place.

Radio 3SR was located in a nondescript pale brick building on the main street of town. It had minimal signage and looked like anything but a radio station.

After parking the car, I made my way through the aluminium-framed glass doors into the reception area and asked for Graeme.

A thickset man with a round warm face came out to greet me.

‘Nice to meet you, Lofty,’ he said, extending his hand.

As I so often did when meeting people for the first time, I studied his face, wondering what he might make of my appearance. His expression didn’t change, which immediately put me at ease.

Throughout my life, I’ve discovered people fall into one of two groups in how they respond to my dwarfism: those who are shocked by my appearance and those who choose to look beyond my stature and see the real me. Graeme saw the real me.

My first day at 3SR was exciting and nerve-racking at the same time. Although I’d got the job on my own merits, my nagging self-doubt made me feel as though I was a pretender and not worthy of my position at the station. I had what you’d call ‘new job jitters’. It’s that sense of uncertainty and the internal voice that says, What if you can’t really do this . . . then what?

Living with dwarfism, you often wonder if you’re going to be taken seriously or treated as a freak. Thankfully, the jokes at 3SR were reserved for my place of origin and not my height. Lighthearted banter was the name of the game, and my colleagues would say things like, ‘Lofty’s really happy today because he’s had the operation that allows him to wear a hat.’ Or ‘Lofty’s really happy today because he’s had the operation that allows him to wear thongs.’ (The footwear, not the underwear!)

Socially, it was all going swimmingly, but emotionally I was exhausted from dealing with the change and my own paranoia. Most nights, I’d go home feeling I had yet to prove my worth. And then there was the recurring nightmare: I’d dream I found myself in the studio with no records to play and no commercials to rely on. The only piece of equipment in my dream was the microphone, and I’d have to fill the dead air.

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