How do you know whether you don't love your profession any more, or just your place of work?
I started in the media in 1999. My first full-time job was as a lunchtime radio announcer on 6VA RadioWest in Albany. Ah, heady days. I've dabbled in everything since then but for the bulk of my time I have been a journalist. I loved my cadetship and thought I'd found the thing I wanted to do with my life.
But now, eight years later, I'm more than a little despondent. I'm sick of fire fighters and policemen getting long service awards. I'm sick of Queen's Birthday Honours. I'm sick of fucking Not In My Backyard stories. I'm sick of subs' phone calls and errors being printed where facts used to be. I'm sick of being answerable to an entire community for every tiny scrap of information (and therefore my working day). I'm tired of rude people. I'm sick to death of placating idiots and apologising to people who have built themselves up to be something only to shy away from it when it goes to print and all their mates have started poking fun at them. I'm sick of typesetting diary items. I'm sick of pretending like I give a fuck about anything and everything.
My profession - our profession, as I know most the people reading this are journalists - is very vocational. You do it because you love it because the money sure as hell ain't much chop.
What happens when you fall out of love with it? What do you do?
Well, go off and earn some actual money somewhere sounds like a nice idea, for a start.
But have I really fallen out of love with being a journalist or is it just the kind of journalism my present employment allows me to do?
A very wise man said to me not long ago, "no story is too big for us, young sir, but no story is too small for us either". And I think that has become a serious problem.
I would hate to give up on journalism and go into Government or public relations and then discover I miss it and have to come skulking back to where I am only to have to start all over again. But then what are the chances of getting into a bigger paper? It's not like I can just "try that first".
Here's my conundrum. I need to leave and I need to leave fast. This morning I so desperately didn't want to go to work that I cried a little in the car on the way. I don't want to spend my day sighing with a heavy heart and choking back tears. That's not life. That's not what I want for my life.
There are only two times I'm truly happy at the moment. One is when I'm with Thom and the other is when I'm at the gym. Both are totally fulfillling experiences. Thank God for Thom. I love him. Ironically, he keeps me sane and grounded. (If you know him, you'll understand). He just makes me smile. He's so beautiful, so funny, so smart. God I mustn't fuck that up.
And the gym? Well it's a bit of a total surprise that the gym has become such an outlet for me. But getting in there three times a week with Paris has become crucial to my sanity. The exercise is good, but it's also some kind of debrief on life. Small talk with a blonde big brotherly character who doesn't know my people or my shit. We natter about irrelevant stuff and do some serious exercise at the same time. He encourages me and supports me. It's amazing how good that feels. Perhaps that's what is missing from work. No one actually says "you did a good job". I mean in fairness to my editor, she does actually SAY that, but not in the way I need. What she means is, thanks for filling the paper with minimum fuss. Which is fine. But I need to do something more productive and important with my day than just write everything that comes across my desk to fill the paper.
I've been struggling with this since I came back from Europe. I've had good days and bad days but generally speaking I am very very unhappy with my work situation. I've spoken to management about it repeatedly and SUGGESTED SOLUTIONS, but nothing has ever come of it. Nothing. One person in particular keeps saying "what's needed out there is a fresh start and everything will be okay". WTF? Yeah. Sure. Okay. How about you actually arrange a fresh start.
Just go work out what it is first.
I know this is a total fucking rant, but hey, it's my diary and you don't have to read it and you don't have to care. I'm just putting it out there into the universe "the secret"-style. Today I was so upset I couldn't even hold down a conversation with the chief-sub for fear of crying. She hadn't even asked me anything particularly hard - it was just a normal journo v chief sub conversation. (That said, she will get people's backs up if she will continues to re-write perfectly good leads for no reason).
I can't do this any more. I don't have to. I won't. I'm moving on.
The question is... do I wait for something to come up at the bigger papers, or do I leave my profession?
If only I knew whether I hated my job or my profession it would be so much easier.
The Montegiallo School of Swearing
1 month ago
3 comments:
Hmm fricked if I know. Sorry. I think you'd miss journalism if you weren't doing it in some form or other but what do I know? - I thought my cat was dying when she just had a giant abscess on her leg. Why the cat story? Hmm, maybe for a chance to mention how disgusting it was to see the vet drain a tube of rank pus out of my puss? Ew, wait, what was my point again?
I think what Kate is trying to say is there's always someone worse off - you could be getting pus drained out of your leg.
Very true.
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