Cursing in the newsroom

So I'm working the news desk on election night in November and doing the Nation section, putting together a graphic down the section front on the election results for big congressional, gubernatorial races, etc.

"Hurry up, we're gonna miss deadline!" That's the assistant city editor yelling at me. Fuck, we didn't have to be off the floor til 1. It was 12:50. He kept on freaking out and looking over my fucking shoulder, as if I couldn't put out a page in less than 10 minutes. And everything else on the page was done, too. Christ, I've put out entire MLB/wire pages in five minutes, never mind 10.

Then he tries to tell me that no one cares about the results outside the area. Shithead, the whole story this time around WAS who'd win Congress. Fucking moron.

Nothing trains you to work fast like working in sports and dealing with late gamers every night. Everyone wonders why I always get my work done so fast. I still read copy and get out 99 percent of the mistakes. Working on the sports desk conditions you to that quick turnaround. Meanwhile, it takes some folks an hour to put out one inside page with two stories on it.

 

As I always say, this isn't the PGA, hushed tones and all that. We'd all lose it if we couldn't lose it, you know what I mean.

Busiest desk I worked on, very busy night, rare silence because we're swamped. There was a dwarf on the staff. TV was on, but nobody's watching. Woman on desk glances up at TV, sees show is on miniature horses. Yells, "Hey, John, there's your horse!" My recollection is the dwarf laughed loudest. RIP, JW.

 

Only when computers never screw up your work will there be no profanity in the newsroom. If you can lose a page and not curse, you've got a lot more self control than me.

 

A couple of weeks ago, I got into a pretty heated exchange with our photo editor (after business hours, only a few people in the newsroom). I gave him at least one STFU, and he dropped a few F-bombs at me. Five minutes later, we apologized and moved on, and were laughing about it later that night.

It happens a lot in a newsroom.

 

Bunch a fuckin' nuns on the news pagination desks at my joint. One woman, in particular, is a flaming holy roller and will rat your ass out if mutter even one little fuck to yourself. Of course, when she's not in the office, it's a free-for-all of some of the crudest insults and humor known to mankind. Everyone welcomes those days.

 

My own personal cursing policy: It's fine in moderation and within earshot of the right people.

Used to be, my attitude if someone was offended was "Fuck it. It's a newsroom." But then I realized that someone my age trying to act all cantankerous and hard-bitten is really kind of lame. And as much as I'm not a fan of folks who are prudes, I do respect their boundaries.

Plus, we have a lot of kids and women entering and exiting our area. Call me old-fashioned, but...

But if it's "just us", then I'm fine with it. The only thing I won't do is curse if it involves a coworker that isn't there to defend himself. Some folks believe that sort of thing is simply "blowing off steam." I think it's a tad disrespectful.

 

In my time, the 75-year-old Obit Lady was not only the biggest fucknut in the newsroom, but the nastiest, cussiest and least respectful.

 

Cussing is fucking encouraged here, but nobody drops the fucking F-bombs like I do.

 

In one place , they thought I was autistic because I cursed.

 

I've mellowed a whole in the last few years. A few years ago, you could hear me a mile away yelling or cursing. I've managed to control it. The way I look at it, cursing probably isn't going to make things better. Plus, I smoke, so that's my way of releasing anger.

I started this new gig about a month ago. The second weekend here, one of the servers goes down and the computers run slow as hell. I, somehow, manage to stay calm while everybody is cursing and muttering away all night. Then last weekend, my computer began to run slower than any computer I've ever worked on. The MLB page, which from start to finish typically takes 30 minutes on a good night, took 90 minutes. I missed deadline. I kicked the shit out of a trashcan and it made quite possibly the loudest banging noise I've ever heard. I dropped an f-bomb that, I swear, made the door rattle.

I walk into the newsroom to apologize for my suddent outburst and one of the copy editors looks up at me and says, "About fucking time. We were beginning to think something's wrong with you."

 

I was more demonstrative when I was younger. Especially when I did design. I don't know how you can work the desk and not curse.

As a reporter, I'm a little more mellow. I have a tougher time writing if I'm pissed off. You've got to take it as it comes. Vent and move on.

At my last job, a friend of mine kept it all inside until he couldn't hold it in anymore. His monthly implosions were classic and costly. He broke chairs, office phones, cellphones and a keyboard. Always good for some comic relief.

 

Hey pal this ain't no lockerroom. It's not a church either, but it's not a lockerroom. Lock it up!