I love this job. The main reason being I love to write, no
matter the subject
– well except maybe gas prices or school test scores.
I love this job. The main reason being I love to write, no matter the subject – well except maybe gas prices or school test scores. I also love to learn, and as reporters we are constantly learning about any number of subjects, including such obscure things as the ins and outs of growing 300-pound pumpkins to the measurements of bacteria in wastewater. (Thank you, dear reader, for correcting me on the bacterial coliform measurements. I really had no idea.)
But being a reporter is no small task. We are, like our namesake the Free Lance, knights armed with pens and notebooks who serve no king – except occasionally the people who pay the bills, our advertisers – running wildly around to get the scoop, ala fellow reporter Linda Lee King, jumping into a conversation with an elected official, administrator, farmer or person on the street. All with the almighty deadline lingering.
But because of the nature of the job, we are often like embattled knights, sometimes having to defend ourselves for something we wrote. A misspelled name, a quote, an article about a misleading study or even being persistent on the phone can bring a nasty e-mail or phone call. (I swear I wasn’t verbally harassing you. I was just trying to find out if your boss was coming in that day.) And yes, we do – occasionally, I might add – make mistakes. And believe me, we are notified quickly of them.
Many people are wary of reporters. Sometimes those not used to dealing with us kindly journalists may refuse to talk or are very guarded and mistrustful of us. One person I tried to interview actually made a cross with her fingers and pointed them toward me as if I was a vampire. Just think, reporters as bloodsuckers? Well, actually, there are some very similar characteristics…
But all kidding aside, underneath our bold exteriors we’re as harmless as Mr. Rogers on crutches and are not out for blood – at least not any reporters at the Free Lance.
But there are also kudos for the job. People do – occasionally, I admit – compliment us on jobs well done, an article well written, information soundly appreciated. We attend many events and meet many interesting people on the job. Sometimes we are even offered free food and drink at an event we’re covering, which, in the journalistic bible of ethics is the first deadly sin. If we eat something offered, some say it affects our judgment towards the event and thus our article is irreversibly skewed because of that chicken leg. (Lighten up and have a cookie, Kollin!)
Recently an anonymous person dropped off some homemade burritos and soup for me at the office. To tell you the truth I was suspicious that it might have been poisoned. Not that I’m paranoid or anything, but I had earlier received scathing criticism for an article I did. But, since I am an inherently trusting and optimistic person, I gave the food to assistant editor Jed Logan, who, after eating it, began hallucinating and subsequently is now called “J-Lo” by his colleagues. (Thank you very much for that lunch, but I’m on a strict no-red-meat diet. If you want to bring some chicken or vegetarian food I’ll gobble it up after I get it tested at the lab.)
But I would like to reassure everyone out there that most reporters – warning: most reporters – are not out to make anybody look bad or cause any injury by what they write. We really want to write a factual, poignant, life-changing, informative, Pulitzer Prize-winning article so that others can be educated on what’s going on in Hollister and the world.
So when you see us, please don’t run or pull out a gun or try to run us over with your truck. Give us a few insightful quotes and we will write a great story that others can read and appreciate. And if you wonder if you’re talking to a trustworthy reporter, the surest way to find out is to see if they have a reflection in a mirror.
