A satirical guide for anyone wanting to join an amateur radio club – and who should know what they’re getting into.
You’ve just passed your amateur radio exam, your first callsign in hand, and a naive idea of camaraderie in your head. You want to join a club. Wonderful! Here’s your guide – so you know what kind of movie you’re walking into.
What you’re about to read could just as easily happen in any allotment gardening association, volunteer fire brigade, or pigeon breeders’ club. But with us, it’s amateur radio – and that somehow makes it even more absurd.
Step 1: Joining
You pay your membership fee and receive the warm feeling of being part of a big family. People help each other, stick together, shake hands. Hamspirit, you know.
At your first club evening, you’re warmly welcomed. Especially by the experienced members – or as they say in the jargon: the Elmers. They’ve been sitting on the same chairs since the nineties, drinking the same beer, and telling the same stories. But they smile. That’s a good sign. For now.
Step 2: The Disillusionment
After the third club evening, you notice: remarkably little radio operating happens here. But remarkably much eating. The radio room has cobwebs on the microphone. The logbook ends sometime in the last decade. But the menu – that’s up to date. They know it by heart. Hamspirit.
You cautiously ask whether they might do a joint activation sometime. A Field Day perhaps? Or a SOTA weekend? The experienced members look at you like a dog that suddenly speaks. “Field Day? Outdoors? With my back?” Another one: “SOTA? You have to climb a mountain!” – Yes. That’s why it’s called Summits On The Air. The suggestion is duly noted and quietly dies between schnitzel and dessert.
Step 3: The Commitment
You don’t give up. You organise. You drive. You bring stuff for the club station – even when the journey is rough and your car takes a beating. Never mind, it’s for the club. You build a new antenna. You write an article for the club website. You even recruit two new members.
The experienced members observe this with a mixture of amazement and mild discomfort. They haven’t seen this much activity since the turn of the millennium. It disturbs the operational peace. And by operational peace, they mean the time between starter and main course. Hamspirit.
Step 4: The Gossip on the QRG
One evening you accidentally tune into the local club frequency – and can’t believe your ears.
The experienced members gather there for a civilised round of gossiping. Not about the weather, not about propagation conditions – but about you. And about everyone else who dares to actually do something. “Have you seen the antenna he built? That’ll never work. I’ll have to tell him!” And of course: “He’s making calls on the direct frequency! Outrageous!” – while their own operating skills belong more in the “schnitzel” category than “exam material”.
All of this is transmitted with so little power that only the immediate neighbourhood can hear it. QRPp, so to speak – not for sporting ambition, but for tactical reasons. They want to keep it among themselves. After all, feedback isn’t given to the recipient but to everyone else. It’s like a news bulletin, only without any information content.
In hindsight, it would probably have been better to tell the person directly over the air or – revolutionary idea – in person. But that would have meant saying to someone’s face what you effortlessly trumpet behind their back. And that’s against the Hamspirit.
That’s just how they are, the experienced ones – and those who aspire to be. They know everything and can do everything. Above all, they know exactly how not to do it. That they themselves haven’t built, activated, or moved anything in years – never mind. They have experience. And that qualifies you for everything, especially for criticising those who actually do something. Hamspirit.
Step 5: The Club Meeting
You try the official route. Club meeting. You bring proposals: youth work, joint projects, maybe a new club station. You even have a PowerPoint presentation. The experienced members have schnitzel.
After your presentation, silence. Then someone says: “We tried that 15 years ago.” What exactly was tried and why it didn’t work remains lost in the fog of history. But it’s enough as an argument. No PowerPoint can compete with 15-year-old failure. Hamspirit.
The chairman thanks you for your effort and orders the next round. Schnitzel, not ideas. The meeting is over. The minutes read: “Various suggestions were discussed.” Discussed. Between soup and main course. Hamspirit.
Step 6: The Realisation
It slowly dawns on you: this club isn’t a radio club. It’s a dining club with an amateur radio licence. The clubhouse has a better kitchen than a radio station. The chairman knows the menu better than the band plan poster on the wall. And the only contest taken seriously here is the question of who orders the biggest schnitzel. Hamspirit.
Step 7: The Quiet Exit
You simply stop coming. No drama, no resignation – you just don’t show up anymore. Three months later, someone asks at the schnitzel dinner: “Where’s that young chap gone?” – “Which one?” – “You know, the one with the ideas.” – Silence. Then someone orders dessert. Hamspirit.
Step 8: The Legacy
A year later, the antenna you built is still standing on the club station roof. It works perfectly. Nobody uses it. But at the schnitzel dinner, the chairman sometimes points proudly out the window: “That antenna is ours.” Who built it, nobody remembers. Hamspirit.
Conclusion: 73 and Bon Appétit
Hamspirit is a wonderful concept. It’s in every club constitution, on every website, and in every Sunday speech at Field Day. It means solidarity, mutual help, respect among like-minded people.
In practice, it sometimes means: we eat schnitzel together, gossip about those who actually operate, and if you leave, we’d like a written resignation. Per the statutes.
But hey – at least the schnitzel at the club evening tastes good. If you’re still invited.
73 de Hansl Hohlleiter, OE0HHL – Your Jammer on All Bands
This post is satire. All persons, clubs, and schnitzels are entirely fictional. If you recognise yourself nonetheless – well, now you know how the others feel. Hamspirit.
🎵 Hamspirit – The Club Anthem
Because every good article deserves a soundtrack. Here it is – the unofficial anthem of the amateur radio club.
“This is a hard-hitting protest song. But the criticism isn’t aimed at any particular group – it’s aimed at anyone who feels affected. Including myself.”
freely adapted from Arik Brauer
Show lyrics
[Verse 1]
Das Mikrofon hat Staub drauf,
das Logbuch ist von neunzehn-neun.
Doch die Schnitzelkarte kennen alle –
Hamspirit, wir laden ein!
[Verse 2]
Ich wollt mal einen Fieldday machen,
da sagten sie: „Bei meinem Kreuz!”
Auf der QRG wird nur gelästert –
leise, keiner hört’s so weit.
[Chorus]
Hamspirit! Hamspirit!
Wer funkt, der stört den Frieden hier.
Hamspirit! Hamspirit!
Das Beste ist das Schnitzel hier!
[Verse 3]
Sie wissen alles, können alles,
vor allem wie es nicht gehört.
Seit zwanzig Jahr ham’s nix gebaut –
aber Erfahrung ist ihr Schwert.
[Chorus]
Hamspirit! Hamspirit!
Wer funkt, der stört den Frieden hier.
Hamspirit! Hamspirit!
Das Beste ist das Schnitzel hier!
[Outro]
73 – der Stammtisch ruft!
Hamspirit bis zum Schluss.
Music generated with Suno AI. Lyrics: oeradio.at editorial team & Claude (Anthropic).
Transparency Notice
This article was researched and written with the assistance of AI (Claude, Anthropic). All content has been reviewed by the oeradio.at editorial team. If you find any errors or would like to suggest additions, we welcome your feedback.
