The paper comes out

02-28-08

So this morning was awesome. I went to Rocky River high school at 8:50 am for a story. I asked an old source for a tip for a school class story- and the pitch was a teacher and class makes cancer bracelets. Oh was it so much more. When you get the right story, you know it right away.
I could see the whole story two minutes into talking to the teacher. The voice and pitch were perfect- it wrote itself. I had solid quotes from the students and then BOOM -money in the bank as one of the girls called the teacher, "the white oprah" -gold i tell you gold. This was something I could sell, this was something that had to be told, this was something that would create the buzz i needed and then for gravy i turned to the one girl who never spoke and asked if she wanted to say anything, she was like well not really I don't really know anyone with cancer and one of the others says but you crank out the most bracelets and the first girl says well I love Mrs Caruso's passion, she inspires me and i would do anything for her. This is why I write. This story was bigger than me and had to be told. This is a story that without me would not be told by the paper I used to work for because no one is passionate enough to find it. This made this week and those crazies worth it.

I went straight home and cranked it out. I finished even before the school pr lady downloaded me the photos. And then in the driveway of work, I got another call and landed a cool story for next week. I walked in the office pumped. I said I had a strong morning. I said sorry some of the photos were dark but the lady from the printer has explained to me what to do in the future and it wont happen again and then added which is another reason we have to layout Monday so when things like that happen I have time to correct it and the guy said he thought it was quite remarkable what I pulled off. I thought life is good so I cheerfully went creating dummies with the right settings. A few minutes later the old lady starts screaming at the guy and then she stops at my desk throws down one of the papers with disgust curls her bony finger at me and snarls THAT'S TERRIBLE then slinks away into her office where she starts yelling at her office worker who is typing away at a typewriter. Somehow I am able to not say anything. Later she returns and starts screaming WE HAVE A REAL PROBLEM. YOU CANT CREATE ADS. THAT IS NOT RIGHT. YOU HAVE TO CREATE ADS. The guy starts to say I show remarkable ability to learn things quickly (who the hell is this guy and where did the weirdo go) but she just rants and rants
and I say you never mentioned that once during the interview that I would be expected to create ads. WHY WOULD I HAVE? I JUST ASSUMED? Um well I reply you hired me to do layout and to write and to create content, you never mentioned ads.
I SHOULD NOT HAVE HAD TO
But I say no editor or writer at any paper ever creates ads.
At this point she isn't listening, THIS ISN'T GOING TO WORK. THIS ISN'T GOING TO WORK. WE HAVE A PROBLEM. WE HAVE A PROBLEM.

No i think to myself you have problem, you hired a writer and you got lucky with me. You didn't hire a graphic designer. I have all these great ideas and I have just about all ten pages prepared in my mind for next week. I should have enough content mostly and all she cares about is photos and creating ads. She even talked me having to sell them too. It was frankly. devastating. She cares less about content and she doesn't understand or care to understand process. She wants a graphic designer who can fill her glorified newsletter with crap and make shiny ads. Except she cant sell any she cant find content and her paper is dying. I breathe life into her paper and she doesn't care. My only hope is they take turns sharing medication and she settles down.