-New Day Job-

Two weeks ago I interviewed for a low-paying but full time position at a community newsroom, a job that would have posited me at town meetings and other boring events of municipal governance. The managing editor and I talked amicably, I felt no real pressure, and she seemed to like the clips in my portfolio - even though the most recent one I could come up with was dated November 2002.

(Why the newsroom? I saw the ad and applied without expecting much, figuring I could add some more recent clips and earn money while continuing to search for the job that would knock my socks off. There would be no real loyalty to a job like this; I could leave at a moments notice if need be.)

Anyway, the editor told me the next step would be an audition - she would send me to a meeting another reporter was covering, we would both take notes, and then I would submit a story. If I failed to come up with anything constructive, the other writer would get the byline, and I would fail to get the job.

So I attended a school board meeting last Thursday. I took furious notes, and even recorded what I could with the minicassette recorder I haven't touched since the beginning of the war on terror. After the meeting let out, I went home, ate, did a number of other things so I wouldn't even have to think about the school system, the council, or the teachers' union. All part of my "process."

At approximately midnight I turned on the computer and poured forth everything I could remember, followed by everything I had written down, and finally, listened to trickier segments on the tape to insure the accuracy of the quotes.

Occasionally, my brain and eyes became too tired to focus. I would go lay down on a small couch that only allows 30 minute durations of comfort before the legs cramp. Couch to desk. Back and forth.

At just shy of 750 words, (and just shy of 4:45) I decided it was passable, saved it, and went to sleep on the larger couch. At ten I awoke and looked at the article with fresh eyes. With some minor grammatical errors wrought by sleepiness, it still seemed okay. Once those had been fixed, and a few paragraphs had been shuffled to make an alternate version, I mailed it to the editor. It wasn't noon yet.

Technically, my part was finished, but I checked my mail and messages throughout the day. If she had any major problems, I was willing to rewrite it.

Nothing. Just as the sun was setting, my cousins called and demanded that I join them for a weekend of mayhem. Mayhem happened, but I still had no messages, which, rather than put me at ease, made me nervous. By Wednesday, I was calling the paper and leaving messages. She didn't get back to me until Thursday, and assured me that the article looked solid (I had to remind her what the article was about) but that they weren't going to fill the position at all. She promised to sent my resume to some of their other offices, but her tone tells me they aren't hiring either. So it feels as if the entire newsroom job was a tease.

False Hope, my old nemesis. I try these things because of my "leave-no-stone-left-unturned" spirit.

The institutions are nice environments, most of the time, recently refurbished with lots of space devoted to the modern computers/faxes/printers/etc, but the human resources all appear to be the crusty, old-timer cast of characters you see everywhere. And most of them are half-time/part-time/sub/temp as well, working other jobs, most of them - get this - other publishing houses, to make ends meet.

So I guess it really is the same cast of characters everywhere, forced to work more hours in different places so they can be screwed out of benefits. Never mind the fact that this pluralism ultimately causes more waste. It's all about short term gains with number-crunching assholes, but being there the day their number is finally crunched wouldn't make me feel better.