Stroll with me back to the 1980s—the decade of disco, big hair, and a popular new talk show host named Oprah. Knowing I was scheduled to attend a professional conference in Chicago, I became obsessed with being in the studio audience.

I started calling the Ticket Line way in advance, but what made it challenging was that there was no recorded message. The line just rang and rang ad infinitum. It dawned on me this was how they kept the number of calls manageable. But people do get in—so why not me? The more I failed, the more determined I was to crack the code.

My strategy was to call several times in a row at various times of the day. It became a break between other activities, much as scrolling social media is today.

After months of being a “serial dialer,” one seemingly ordinary afternoon, I was watching Oprah live, rather than on taped playback. On a whim, I tried dialing the number during a commercial. And a miracle happened. A somewhat nonchalant—but real—person answered, “Oprah Show.” I could barely speak. I told the associate about my conference and when I would be in Chicago. My heart was pounding. Then she said, “Unfortunately, we can’t book that far in advance. You’ll need to try us again when you get to town.”

Ma’am, do you have any idea what I’ve gone through to get this far? Are you really going to turn me down? Since when is planning ahead a liability?  I actually said nothing, which is a feat in itself, but I didn’t want to alienate the Oprah “gatekeeper.” But, how on earth was I supposed to accomplish this while at a conference?  I would accomplish it with ridiculous determination, a lot of “crazy,” and Divine help—that’s how.

When I arrived in Chicago, I visited the hotel concierge to see if she had had any pull. And, in fact, she said they often get calls at the last minute from the Oprah show requesting guests. She even dropped the producer’s first name like they were old buddies. I was duly impressed. She took all my information but said there was one proviso:

“You’ll have to be available when they call. They don’t leave messages, and, if you don’t answer, they’ll move on to the next person on the list.” Oh…to have had a cell phone in 1988.

So picture this: I’m at a conference paid for by my employer. I sincerely wanted to learn and network.  Do you see my dilemma? I couldn’t play hooky from the conference and sit in my hotel room waiting for a phone call, but…how would this ever work out? It would take a miracle…

The next morning, the miracle happened. I was just about to leave for the day’s sessions when my hotel phone rang. It was the concierge: “I have a reservation for you to be in the Oprah Show audience tomorrow morning. Be in line at 6:45 am. If you’re late, you will not be seated. Bring an ID…I don’t think I heard anything past “you’re going to be on the Oprah show!”

I was there at 6:15, way earlier than the required call time. And, for once, being ahead of the game paid off. They seated us in the order we arrived, and I ended up way down front. The episode was “Working for a Female Boss,” which was perfect, as I was training and supervising office interns at the time. I was thrilled—my persistence finally paid off. But this kept me humble:

I was trying to ask a question the whole time. I was losing circulation in my arm from raising my hand so long. But Oprah didn’t come anywhere near me—until the last segment. Next thing I knew, she was standing next to me with the microphone to my face. I took a breath and opened my mouth. She squeezed my hand and said gently, “Out of time…” I never got to speak. Yes, I was humbled but still elated.

About five years later, the conference was once again held in Chicago. I wasn’t quite as crazed this time, but I still wanted to get to her show. This time, I knew not to call so far in advance, and I again dialed during a live broadcast. It worked!

One day at the conference, after lunch, I slipped to my hotel room to freshen up. In the ten minutes I was in my room, the Oprah show called, and I was “in” again. Another miracle of Providential timing. What were the odds they would call during those few stolen moments? My second Oprah show was light-hearted and fun. We were treated to the holiday movie, “Jingle all the Way,” to a yummy box lunch, and to the taping of a show promoting the film. The guests were all cast members, including “Ahnuld” himself.

Years later, when the show became a forum for new-age spirituality, I’m sorry to say…I completely lost interest. Obsessions come and go. But I will always treasure the golden years of this wonderful talk show. And I’ll never forget the crazy schemes and Divine help that landed me in the studio audience—not once, but twice. It was a mystery, a challenge, and a puzzle to be solved; but—lo and behold—I cracked the Oprah code.