I started working for a radio station when I was 18. It was the greatest day of my life (up until that point). I went to the interview, in pretty much the only multi-storey building we had in the city, met with a couple of the bosses, and they hired me on the spot. It must have been my awesome radio face.

But perhaps I'm making the situation out to be a little more glamorous than it was. I wasn't actually hired to *be* on the radio, I was hired to write the ads that they played on the radio. Not quite as awesome.

Still, awesome for an 18 year old. I was thrust into the world of regional radio, got to meet the DJs, saw the infamous 'prize cupboard', took a tour of the studios and even the inside of the recording booth. Talk about living the dream.

I started the job, wrote some ads, and answered with excitement everytime someone asked me where I was working. "THE RADIO STATION." I would say, sh*t-eating grin on my face.

And then one day, things got real serious. Real seriously awesome.

They asked me to do the voiceover for an ad. The client wanted a young, female voice for the spot, and well, I was young and female and I happened to be in the office at the right time.

The producer handed me the script, and led me to the booth. He gave me a set of headphones, and scuttled back to his desk on the other side of the glass.

"Ok Hannah," he said, "lots of energy, lots of excitement, keep it upbeat."

What he got was lots of crap, lots of lame, and borderline depressed.

I tried, I really did, but it's bloody hard talking like a person on the radio when you're just a normal person off the street. I tried talking louder, talking faster, talking slower, but it was no use. My voice sounded like arse. When the producer played it back for me to really hit that point home, I almost retched in disgust.

Not the result the client was hoping for from listeners I'd be willing to bet.

They decided to call in the big guns. The afternoon DJ in the office that day was stolen out of the studio, and I was given crash course in how to talk properly.

Wave your arms around, she said. Smile while you're speaking. Project your voice!

So I did. I looked like an absolute goon, but I did it.

The producer was entirely over the whole thing, but dammit, I was stoked. I read that ad like nobody's business.

As the months passed, I became a regular voiceoverer. I was the go-to for 'young female'. And because I was writing the ads, well, I may have given myself a few more lines that others might have. I honed my voice. I found myself using it in social situations, on phone calls. It was like a super power I'd just discovered after swimming in a disastrously over-chlorinated pool.

I had a voice that was slightly better than your average person. I was unstoppable.

But it wasn't to last. Here I sit, typing this blog post, five years later, talking normally.

Oh, I'm not talking to anyone, I was just reading this aloud as I was typing, and it didn't sound good.

I've lost it. I left my job at the radio station to go do writing stuff and started just talking like I used to before, like a dumb normal person.

What happened, man? It could have been amazing. I could have taken that voice on the road. Charged people 50 cents a spoken word.

But here I am, a washed up ex-radio ad reader, and I want to go back to the glory days. I want to sound like somebody special again.