Dear dimwit on the phone

Dear 80-year-old dude who was offended about that we labeled your announcement to run for president as the "lighter side of news,"

I am terribly sorry that you were the only one in the room who didn't think it was a joke. You are in poor health, made your announcement at a small town council meeting and have no plan for election except to have people write you in, so you can understand our mistake. True any natural born citizen over the age of 35 can run, but I guess I looked beyond that and thought about how you complain about everything at council meetings and told me to get off your lawn last week. Please accept our apology. We wish you luck in your campaign.

Signed,
An editor who's staff is still laughing their asses off.

 

What's the guy's name? I'll write him in for shits and giggles.

 

Dear old guy who called me earlier today,
You must've failed reading comprehension in school, no?

Apparently you read my story, because you called my line this afternoon. If you would re-read the first two or three grafs, you would no where them you're asking about was being played.

It's right freaking there, spelled out in those things we like to call letters. If you can read my entire preview and get my number at the end of my story to call me, surely you can figure out where the game was played.

Have a nice day,
KY

 

Doing the typical run around to 2-3 events a night thing the other day, and I'm having a debate as to whether I want to catch Podunk's girls team or their boys team on this particular night. Both start at the same time at sites on each end of town.

I arrive about 20 minutes into the first half (coming from another event), and I'm down in the corner of the field setting up my camera when I hear two parents grumbling as they walk behind me, and the wife makes a point of speaking loud and clear "Well it's about time the paper showed up."

Suddenly my debate was over, I clicked away just long enough to get a decent shot (the opponent was a local school, too) and relegated that game to our roundup section. Then packed up my camera, walked to the car and headed across town for the second half of what turned out to be a thrilling boys game. All the while, enjoying the aghast look on this mom's face

Sure enough, I get in today and there's a voice mail (I'm guessing from the husband) complaining about our ignoring their team all season.

The fact is we've covered the several times, basically leaving out the nonleague stuff and the below-par opponents. I'll be sure to explain that when I dig out my caller ID and return his call on Monday

 

The paper hasn't "showed up" till you've run a photo of Little Jimmy or Little Susie on your front page.

 

Just because I do not know why we did not run the MLB Stats package regularly, although I suspect its because of shrinking space, does not make me or the rest of us in the department cocksuckers.

 

I shit you not, his name is Dave Matthews

 

Tell him to go back on the road then.

And, while we're doing some dimwits here, let me add this one.

<clearing throat>

Dear Mr. Freelancer guy,

I understand your dilemma and realize that you could really use all the money you can get right now but I think you need to understand something as well. Right now, with my company in the process of filling three vacancies, I'm working between 50-70 hours per week.

What that means is that, while I would love to spend three hours with you on the phone going over potential topics for stories for you, I can't. And, further, the time I do have that is not dedicated to work is going to be spent ... wait for it ... not working.

So while I would love to shoot the shit with you on a Saturday night at 9 p.m., I'd actually much prefer to spend some time with my wife. You know, that lady I married who I might see one every three days right now.

So, either come up with story ideas yourself and pitch them to me on the days in which I am working or quit whining that I don't have time for you. This is my job, I appreciate that, but my weekends are my weekends and the sooner you learn that, the better off we'll be.

Sincerely yours,

Mr. Overworked, underpaid and unappreciated news editor

 

On Sunday, I return to work from a week-long vacation. I just know that I'll have voice mails, and about half of them will be people who call once and leave a message only to call again a few days later wanting to know why I'm not taking the call ... when I made sure that I used an out-of-office reply for both phone and email.

And, hell no, I didn't bring my work cell phone home last week. I don't care if it's the Second Coming. I'm on vacation.

 

Dear dumbass emailer:

I wrote a story about your team last week and they were mentioned in the newspaper 6 different times. What else ya want?

 

Got a voicemail this afternoon from a woman who seemed stressed out, like what she was calling about was an emergency. She needed to know if the Red Sox had won the AL East or the wild card, and she needed someone to call her ASAP. She recently dropped Dish Network, so she has no way of knowing who made the playoffs.

 

Call her back and tell her to buy a newspaper...they are wonderful things that are delivered to your door and will show you the information you are looking for, and much, much more...then hang up.