I admit it. I ...

I don't mind the cold calls, it's the face-to-face contacts with strangers.

Our editors love: "They are thinking about raising the sales tax, go to Target and talk to people to see what they think," or "Here is an address of someone who may be the cousin of the kid who just died, knock on the door and see if they will talk."

I dread that stuff

 

I hate that. No wonder so many reporters make up the "man-on-the-street" quotes.

The worst-ever assignment that trickled down to me as a new sports reporter in Brevard County, Fla., the day of the Challenger explosion was to find Christy McAuliffe's elementary school class and get their reaction.

I was told they were staying at a hotel on the beach, but I never found them. Thank God.

Even the operater at the Space Center was upset and crying when I called to ask a few questions.

 

I taped Larry Lester's buns together.

I hate to admit it, but my best sports writing days are behind me. I still write for a major publication seasonally (about football), but my freelance pitches to other publications for other sports have not generated any interest in a while. My full-time job is in communications these days, so this is hardly a crisis -- though perhaps of identity. My mind still works on pitches, and I still send them out every month or so, but mostly crickets. It was a decent run. Now where's the Drano?

 

I haven't missed the business for one minute since I left. And six months ago, I would have told you I'd be the last person on Earth to tell you that.

 

have 10 toes. Although one is a tad more mangled than the other 9.

 

This is one million percent correct.

 

Walk-and-talks suck. Worst assignment in the newsroom.
I hated them as a reporter.
Best lesson I learned as a reporter and tried to explain as an editor: Keep your budget full and you won't be the one handed the walk-and-talk.

 

As crime reporter, I approached victims and families in the court house halls.
I showed up at a Rosary for a murder victim.
I attended funerals for murder victims and fatal crash victims.
It comes with the job. Doesn't make you feel good about yourself when you're doing it, but it comes with the job.

 

Realized this problem near the end of my senior year at college. Just before spring semester I dropped the dreaded "Reporting Public Affairs" course and added "Editing for Mass Media."

33+ happy years on the desk followed.

 

Oh, those obits. At my shop, we used to do what we called a "special obit" every day. Just picked one of the obits to highlight and write a little something special about the person.

It resulted in some truly special vignettes, but others were just horrible. Two in particular that I remember:

One daughter I got in touch with, I asked about her dad and she said "I hated the son of a bitch. I really wish you wouldn't write anything about him. He was a miserable bastard."

Another was just dragging. Trying to get any details from her about her mom, she just wasn't offering very much. So, I asked about mom's hobbies. Her quote: "Oh, mom just love the iron. She'd just iron all day." Try weaving something interesting from that.

 

Here. I hate working the phones. I'd rather email or see them face-to-face. And my phone-phobia extends to more than just work. I can't even set up a vet appointment for my dogs over the phone; I have to go by the office on my to work and talk to the receptionist.

 

...hate doing features. Not that I hate being face-to-face (as I said above, I'd rather be face-to-face). It's that as I get older, my hands get more achy when I try to write notes and I hate going back-and-forth on my voice recorder trying to make sure I get the quotes right. I end up taking frequent breaks.

I can get everything done from a high school basketball doubleheader, two stories, in about an hour and a half, maybe two (Deadline's 11 p.m.) — writing, the quotes, photos, layout. It takes me all damn day to write a feature. Good thing I'm the entire sports staff.