While I no longer endure the daily humilation of being a VJ, I still work in news.
And one thing has not changed.
I suspect it never will.
Whenever I walk into a newsroom and smell free pizza; see congealed slices resting on the copy machine, spy people at the assignment desk with one hand holding the phone and the other wiping grease off their mouths and producers flinging unwanted crusts in trashcans, I know I'm in for a shitty day.
This always means there's breaking news.
This means we will be forced to work overtime. Long, busy hours of running around red-faced and annoyed.
It has instilled in me a Pavlovian response to the scent of pizza.
Others see pizza and smell delicious red sauce, mozzarella cheese and spicy pepperoni. They are awash in happy memories of childhood pizza parties and the roller rink.
Me, I just smell newsroom sweat and think of mudslides, shootouts and the occasional political scandal.
1 comment:
Along with the free pizza that accompanies any good disaster, don't forget the other pleasant aspects of breaking news: incessant cursing, severe belittling of the co-workers in lower positions that you just had drinks with the night before, and pale, disheveled producers bellowing at the assignment desk to get the exclusive footage that Fox News or MSNBC has on the air. Ah, the good ol' days...
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