Thursday, July 3, 2014

down in flames (day 3)

every now and then, i fight a losing battle against laziness. it's my very own, splinter-infested cross.

after about a month at the battalion, i'd gotten a little too big for my britches. the city editor, a nice gal named jenn. (or deb. maybe allison? ) pulled me aside as i was wrapping up some piece about the mascot or aliens landing or something majorly big on campus i've since forgotten.

she'd assigned me some spirit rally that was happening that night at around 7 p.m.

damn it.

i hated evening stories and to this day, i still do.

i flinch. i pout. i try to come with any excuse NOT to have to venture out to cover something that would require me to come BACK to the newsroom and write it up ex post facto.

(for what it's worth, i cover small towns who meeting monthly at 7:30 p.m. for about two hours. and i have to come back to the newsroom. and write it up. and then drive the hour drive home. penance.)

there was no swaying her, so i grabbed my sorority sister (we had plans for a party later) and dragged her out with me.

it wasn't hard to find the fifty people gathered outside the memorial student center (those hallowed aggie grounds where you don't wear hats indoors and you don't step on the grass. holy ground!). i walked up to one person and asked if they would tell me what was going on. i had my notebook and a pen. i was making an effort.

they didn't want to talk. the second person said i needed to find the organizer, the gal up on the microphone currently speaking.

she looked like she had lots to say and i had plans for the evening.

i grabbed the nearest payphone (i didn't own a cellphone in college...paying for them in those days was similar to mortgaging an rv or a speed boat. not too expensive, but still out of my price range) and i called jenn/deb/allison back at the paper.

the gods were on my side when i went to her voicemail and left her a rattled, sorry sounding message about there really not being a story out here afterall and i'd just see her next week.

i went on with my night. next morning, on the front page was a stand-alone, active looking picture of the rally. turns out the photographer found a story afterall.

i had a warning pinned to my computer when i got back to work. strike one...

honestly, i was lucky i didn't get fired and the stupid party was a bust anyway.

i'd love to say lesson learned, but you know, b-league gigs that followed and all...

...lazy lazy lazy...

 photo signature_zps3807abdd.jpg

No comments:

Post a Comment