Okay, I've done some calculating and it turns out if I jammed the maximum hours I can work in one month at the paper into one week, I would still be working part time. Five hours a week. Five? Somehow, when the editor told me that once I got into the swing of things I would be able to work pretty much any time I want, I thought it meant I would be working a few more than five hours a week. FIVE. This news on top of the fact that the guy didn't tell me what he wanted in a preview until tonight after I'd finished writing my second preview, has me annoyed. Lots of quotes. Why not just say, "I want lots of quotes." There's more to it than that, but I don't really want to go into it any further. It's just frustrating how poorly the expectations of me have been communicated. I know some of the issues are mine. I should stand up and say, "What the heck do you want from me?"
I kind of blanked out for five minutes here. I'm not really sure how to wrap this up. So I'll borrow an ending from some of the best fiction ever written:
The End
I'm grateful for happy endings (20).
Why is it that people in the newspaper business always have the worst time communicating???
ReplyDeleteAnd why do percussionists always have the worst rhythm???
And don't forget that teachers are incapable of following directions or listening while other people talk...
ReplyDeletez-man: While we're at it: What do you call someone who hangs out with a bunch of musicians? A percussionist. hahahahaha.
ReplyDeletetz: Really? That's a new one to me.