Beware, Trentonian offering jobs that don't exist

They won't. They'll attack and destroy him like they do everyone else.

Actually, it's to Aaron's best interest if he gets the hell out of there as soon as humanly possible, either by his own volition or courtesy of a Smilin' Bob Necktie Party, before he stays too long and picks up the stink of "JRC stooge" on his career, virtually guaranteeing he'll never be employed again by any organization with any real interest in journalism.

 

That's not entirely true. Many people on these threads are employed at questionable places. Talent rises to the top no matter where you are.

 

37 posts, van Gogh. How many of them have NOT been about the Trenton situation?

Just wonderin', because that's the only window we have into your persona.

 

Shot, your efforts to keep this thread alive are admirable.

Please, Shot, feel free as a bird to criticize me. I can take it, and I won't need any tissues from you and your online pity party partners.

It's understandable that as Aaron's uncle you would want to protect him. I get that, cat. No hard feelings on my side. Every post you make helps extend the life of this thread and also gets dozens of more viewers, so you are truly helping keep alive the thread and the AB topic. For that, I thank you.

 

Unless you're working for cannibalistic zombies whose only objective is to eviscerate and decimate the payroll. Not only do they not care about their employees developing and improving, they don't want it -- when workers' performance improves, they want more money.

At JRC, all "talent" is strangled in the cradle.

 

I work for a JRC paper. And I can attest, without reservation, that there are clearly roadblocks in place within the company that hamper journalistic ambition and professional growth. Some newsrooms are better than others in these regards. All are more or less handcuffed, however. And promotions to larger papers in the chain or positions of greater responsibility, when offered, are rarely merit based. Or filled from within the company.

Some folks on this thread are extraordinarily bitter about their experience working for JRC, which is highly understandable, if not a little over-the-top; I choose to deal with the reality of working for an organization that's clearly more interested in the bottom line than the quality of their product or morale of their employees.

I still can't believe the first page of the employee handbook I received (the table of contents was in the back, which should have been a clear signal at the beginning of how ass-backwards the company is):

"... We are very proud of the highly respected and award-winning organization that we have built, and know that our success depends on our employees. We are confident that your abilities and potential make you and ideal team member and we aspire to ensure that you find your career with us to be challenging, fulfilling and rewarding." : : :

In my time here, I've mostly flown beneath the corporate radar, tried to accumulate all the experience I could, tackled a handful of ambitious projects with little to no guidance and have developed the ability to motivate myself.

And now I'm getting out.

 

Which proves that good talent will rise to the top. Good luck to you.

 

Fresh off the success of "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader," Jeff Foxworthy's stock value is hot! Well, not like Paris Hilton's "That's hot!" or even McDonald's coffee spillage in your crotch hot, but hot as in that burning feeling you get an hour after sex behind Po Po's Chicken with one of Trenton's comely, toothless ladies of the evening. In JRC's whorish attempt to cash in on Foxworthy's popularity, the company has announced that, in conjunction with Aaron Bracy Productions, it is producing what it hopes to be the next big craze, "You Know You're a Douchebag Trentonian Sports Editor..."

Here are a few samples I saw from the demo tape:

"You Know You 're a Douchebag Trentonian Sports Editor when you're out the door precisely at 11:00 p.m." Nevermind those bothersome deadlines or your lowly underlings foisting proofs upon your weary soul just as you're ready to bolt for home. You've worked your 8-hour shift, damn it! To make things more competitive, at 10:58, blow a whistle or signal in some other way that you've hit the 2-minute warning. Depending on your score, it's your call to decide whether to employ a hurry-up offense or three kneeldowns. Either way, your paginators on defense have no timeouts to burn.

"You Know You're a Douchebag Trentonian Sports Editor when your cheerleaders beg to give you a fair shake because you're youngish." That infamous list of 25 former Trentonian sports editors in the last 12 years or so? That's so yesterday! Using your highly advanced level of obliviousness, ignore the fact that at least 10 of them were younger than you when they ascended the throne. You can't be bothered with such unnecessary history. You're here to stay, baby! They obviously lacked the sagacious maturity you have accumulated. Their refusal to kowtow to JRC was their fatal flaw. Something you'll never have to worry about. Sieg heil!

"You Know You're a Douchebag Trentonian Sports Editor when your top priority is turning down the TV volume in the Sports department." Congratulations! You've worn your crew down to the bone. You've humiliated them, you've debased them, you've stolen all their smiles. Well done! But your task is not complete. They are the serfs and you are their fiefdom leader. Squash whatever remnants of their hopes and dreams by denying their TV privileges. Better yet, keep the TV on, yet mute the volume. That way they see what they're being denied. You can also tempt them into your turning the volume back on if they work harder. (A clever ploy considering you'll never relent). Well played, old boy! Well played.

"You Know You're a Douchebag Trentonian Sports Editor when you criticize your peons for making mistakes on proofs." The nerve of some people! Making mistakes when they know your ass is on the line. That's unforgivable. Worse than that, it's a major no-no. It's not a trivial matter like fucking up a basketball coach's name in a story. (Yeah, like that could ever happen.) Although you never took an etymolygy course at St. Joe's, you're pretty sure that the root of the words "perfect" and "proof" are the same. And who can argue with the Greeks? Especially when those tempting young boys sun themselves at the Acropolis; their bronzed skin glistening under a radiant Aegean sun. So hot. ... So lustful. ... Come on, concentrate! No time for happy thoughts. Proofs with mistakes make it appear you're not convincingly scaring the wrath of God in your lowly employees who make mistakes. The JRC ladder is full of slippery rungs. You won't be sliding off it any time soon -- well, at least not before 11:00 p.m.

 

I appreciate that, boots. And I guess I agree with you on premise. Just not at JRC. And that's ashame.

... Because it does matter where you are.

 

I don't want to spoil the party or anything, because obviously a ton of time went into that rant. But "douche bag" is two words. I'm pretty sure someone should have caught that on the proof.

 

Do you think Po Po's Chicken has any openings in the 3-11 shift?

 

Hey Roenick,
Check out the JRC stylebook for "douchebag" and you'll see it's one word, girlfriend.

Snap!