Have you given up?

I have this conversation all the time. Usually inside my head, but sometimes with my wife.

The posters who say the job is our identity have a point, to a degree. My ego gets no satisfaction out of being known to others as a guy who covers sports. Yet I cannot come up with anything else that would satisfy me.

All my life I've been surrounded by people who enjoy what they do. My mom and dad always liked their jobs. There was pressure and they had bad days, sure, but they had a passion for what they do (dad's retired but my mom still loves her teaching gig). My sister has been in two fields and loves them both. My wife liked copy editing, but when she had a terrible health scare in 1999, she saw it as a sign she should try and pass her love of the English language to kids as a teacher. And she loves her gig now.

So why should I settle? I love what I do, and I think I'm good at it--not the best, but good. I worked at a K-Mart in the summer of 1990, and I loathed it so much I swore I was never going to work at a job I hated ever again. That didn't turn out to be entirely true--working in a mailroom and painting garbage cans in consecutive summers during college sucked and blew as much as anything has ever sucked and blew--but as a writer, I can't remember one time I've ever looked at the clock, willing it to move ever so faster. Sure, there are games you don't want to cover and stories that suck and long days and shit we all have to put up with, but even on the worst day, it doesn't feel like work.

I like going to a ballgame, knowing there's an empty canvas just waiting to be filled and knowing that even though me and "X" amount of others are watching the same thing, I have the chance to paint a different story than everybody else. We put up with a lot of bullshit with our subjects so often looking down at us, but I like the challenge of winning them over and earnign even a modicum of respect without being a kiss-ass. I want someone to read my stories and go "You know what? That guy has a pulse on what he's covering."

Features and longer stories are more intimidating. Can't count how many times I've stared at an empty computer screen with the words "Document1" atop the window and wondered how the hell 1,500 words were going to appear. Yet they do. Sometimes it's just formulaic and what not, but at some point in the process, you see the finish line, and that's a great feeling. And sometimes it feels like magic, and the story takes a twist I never intended that makes it much better than I envisioned.

What else can I do that will match those feelings? What else can I do that will challenge me like this? Where else can I enjoy the camaradarie that develops in the press box?

My wife says I could like sports PR. But a good friend of mine who is an SID is as miserable as the day is long and counting the minutes until retirement. Plus, in those gigs, your job is in jeopardy any time a new GM or AD comes along and wants his own guy in there. You stick around by knowing where the bodies are buried. What's the fun in that?

She says I could do any sort of writing at a trade pub, or edit something someplace. But my world view is sadly limited and I can't see myself knowing what the hell I was writing about at a trade pub. Sure, I could fake it, but I'd hate every second of it. And I don't love editing.

sometimes, when this discussion gets heated and she (rightfully) wonders how we're ever going to save enough to buy a house and what not with me doing this, she reminds me that plenty of people work in jobs they don't love but get their weekends free and enjoy the benefits of a steady, well-paying job. I tell her that if I do that, I'm going to be miserable around the clock. I can't stomach the thought of just punching a clock and going thru the motions, disliking my job and being mad about where I am.

I've put up with a lot to stay in the business. I was unemployed more often than not from late summer 2000 until fall 2002. It IS a source of pride to me to be one of only three folks from the school paper to still be in the business 12-14 years later. People far more talented than me got out, yet I'm still in it.

I'll probably never have the big newspaper beat gig I once envisioned. That's mostly my fault--I've never been much at selling myself and one rejection feels like 10, plus, at 22 or 23, I decided I'd rather live with my future wife than Kriss Kross the country bouncing from one paper to another. But the ever-worsening newspaper landscape has made it a place I don't necessarily want to be.

Of course, where WILL I be? I don't know. It's scary. I still fear getting downsized and I'm still a guy who doesn't sell himself very well and still feels shitty when someone turns me down. But I feel even shittier when I imagine giving up.

(sorry, I rambled)

 

The mention of parents got me to thinking about my dad, who was a fireman for 29 years and absolutely loved his job. He's been devastated ever since he was forced to retire 25 years ago. I will never have that kind of relationship with my work. In the grand scheme of things, I just help put out a newspaper. That doesn't seem special anymore.

 

Beautiful stuff, BYH.

WFW, I feel the same way -- except I'm not married and not getting married anytime soon.

 

I'm going to leave the business if I am not out of my current state in 18 months. I want to have a family I am not sure I could do it if I was working the hours I am. I am going to go back to school to get a masters degree and am going to become a teacher. Also it is the only way I will be able to pick where I want to live

 

you might want to check into getting a teacher's certificate from state to state. might not be as easy as you think.

 

Eloquently put, BYH. I was raised in the same situation. My parents are both teachers, both retired now. And I see how well they're living -- with their nice pensions and private lessons (they're both musicians) -- and I think about going back to school and getting my master's. And it's something I will do, just in case I get burned out by the newspaper business. I've always said I want to get that degree so I can finish out my working days as a teacher. I think it could be just as fulfilling as landing that big beat at that big paper.

But for now, I'm happy here, and I'm not giving up until that feeling quits.

 

And a wonderful ramble it was, sir.

Thank you.

 

I second that. He must do something with words for a living.

 

I gave up. About three years ago. I reached a point where what I was putting in wasn't equal to (or even close, really) to what I was getting out.

I work in corporate PR, internal communications. I do e-mail scripts, the company newsletter and some press releases, etc.

And you know what? I'm happy. Do I love my job? No. Do I hate it? No.

I guess it's different for everyone, but here was my thing: I liked being a sports writer. But once I did it for five years, I had nothing left to prove. Kind of like climbing a mountain or running a marathon. If you've done it once, what's the point of doing it again?

I proved I could do it. I did it fairly well. Turn the page. New chapter.

My current job is just a job. And I'm OK with that. Nice paycheck, enough to buy a home and save. My life begins when I get home to my wife and two kids.

As someone older once told me: "At the end of the day, it's just a job."

 

When I was 22, I imagined doing this all my life. Of course, when I graduated college, newspapers were a still lucrative, if not growing, business.
I've seen the changes around me, but they haven't affected me half as much as what goes on where I work. I've dealt with newsroom bullies, editors who fucked up my copy (and could fuck up a wet dream), incompetents and indifferent suits who don't give a shit about the product we put out as long as we can make our revenue predictions.
I used to love what I do. I really did. I still have moments where I do. But overall, coming to work, I feel like Tom Hanks at the beginning of "Joe Versus the Volcano."
And I'm tired of fighting an uphill battle. If I can't work at a job I love, I want my nights and weekends back and I want to make a little more money.
Have I given up? You bet your ass.

 

Exactly my feelings.

One thing I realized: There's a difference between giving up, and moving on. I moved on.