I also learned that to survive in talkback, I'd have to develop the skin of a rhino. One young woman who came and went from the station found the abuse so horrendous she broke out in boils. But I took it as a minor downside to the job.
Much has been said this week about the abuse television presenters and newspaper columnists are subjected to and, yes, the abusive texts and tweets are pretty much typical of those I've been getting sporadically over the past 17 years. They tend to focus on my appearance and my sexual proclivities (you're a fat whore; you're a filthy, fat whore and my personal favourite, you're nothing but a communist lesbian).
I seem to be missing the "give a s***" chromosome because I really don't. You can't feel pain from someone you pity. What must these people's lives be like? It never occurred to me to take offence or to be degraded by an anonymous troll. But I accept that not everybody has that mechanism. Some people are vulnerable and that can be fatal in an industry such as the media.
Which brings me to Charlotte Dawson. I had the pleasure of working with Charlotte more than a decade ago on How's Life, a show loosely based on Beauty and the Beast. She was gorgeous, professional, talented and generous. She was never a prima donna and was helpful to the rest of the cast, many of whom were new to television. She was also goofy, and it's not often you get a beautiful woman who can be goofy. I loved spending time with her, on set and away from work. Everyone did. She had a larger-than-life personality and told some of the funniest stories I've ever heard - many of them against herself.
Then I took part in a debate on the culture of celebrity in New Zealand. I learned my performing chops doing live debates around the country with the likes of Gary McCormick, Jim Hopkins, David McPhail and Jon Gadsby, Paul Holmes and Ginette McDonald. The jokes and stories told could be brutal. I was generally the butt of the dumb blonde slut jokes; McCormick was cast as the ageing lothario; Holmes the priapic pursuer of child brides.
We aimed for vicious one-liners of the Winston Churchill variety but, often, it was just vicious. It didn't matter. It was all about verbal gymnastics and one-upmanship and trying to entertain the audience. Afterwards we'd retire to a bar, have a drink and we all stayed the best of mates. Cut to Queenstown, and the celebrity culture in New Zealand debate and the stories were coming thick and fast. Charlotte was the uber-celebrity of the time - not just an A-lister, but an A-plus lister. Obviously, she was going to be the subject of many of the jokes but none of us was spared. It was the usual bear pit but, in this case, it was televised and when it screened, Charlotte was appalled.
She rang me, extremely upset at what she saw as a terrible betrayal. She felt hurt and humiliated and her family, she said, was devastated - all of which was duly reported in the newspapers. I can understand the family taking umbrage - my mum and dad only came along to one debate in which I featured and they never came again. That sort of humour, especially directed at their little girl, was not something they appreciated.
I apologised to Charlotte a thousand times. I truly thought she had the same tough hide the rest of us had - that the rest of us needed to have if we wanted to work in an industry in which you are constantly judged by the public. Charlotte was so aware of the absurdity of the business, I thought she understood that nothing is serious and no one is sacred. But she wasn't tough, she wasn't cynical and she wasn't hard, and I hurt her terribly. As I say, I apologised a thousand times but what is said and done can't be unsaid or undone.
It taught me a valuable lesson. I judged Charlotte. I looked at this clever, beautiful, popular girl and thought she had it all. It was as if she didn't have the right to feel vulnerable or fragile when she had everything a woman could want.
It was probably the same realisation that other people had when John Kirwan fronted up about the battle he's had with depression. How could a big, handsome, talented All Black possibly have depression when he appeared to the world to have everything?
However, as we've learned, being gifted and talented doesn't make you immune to pain and vulnerability.
Charlotte was one of the loveliest people I've ever worked with and I still feel bad that I was one of those who caused her pain. I have never done another debate, that's for sure.
And I don't think the answer is that people should harden up. We need sensitive, passionate, fragile people in this world. It would be an awful place if it was full of hard-bitten cynics. But perhaps those delicate souls who choose public careers should be offered extra support.
For the nasty, anonymous individuals who delight in sending abusive messages to media personalities - you don't have to watch, listen or read. The power is in your hands. Turn off. Don't buy the paper. If you take umbrage that these people on the telly are unworthy of their success, be even more successful in your own life. Living well is the best revenge.
Before you press 'send', just think that the person you're sending that spiteful text to might be as vulnerable and insecure as you are. Only they're trying to make a life for themselves, while you're busy tearing it down.
• Kerre McIvor is on Newstalk ZB, Monday-Thursday 8pm-midnight.
