when a caravan of enterprising food trucks
arrived on the scene to take advantage
of the approaching dinner hour
by offering famished and frustrated meal planners
their choice of Mexican, Indian, Chinese,
Japanese, Senegalese and Vietnamese dishes
and delicacies at a special discount rate
available only for nowhere-to-go consumers.
With all the pieces of the story in hand
and initial paragraphs already in my head,
I raced back to the newsroom
to meet the unforgiving deadline
and write with the speed, clarity, vigor
and precision demanded by
the game of beat the clock.
To do so, I ignored phone calls, emails,
visits from idle and inquisitive office mates,
but not the thoughtful Miss Honeywell
bearing me a cup of Kona and coconut creamer.
Despite these and other distractions,
I wrote fast and well, faster and better
as if my life depended on it,
which is the best and most efficient way
to defeat the deadline
which I did with 18.7 minutes to spare.
I then leaned back with a sense of mission accomplished
and reflected on my achievement,
feeling worthy of a reward for writing
and filing the perfect front page story
in which not a single word needed altering
and not a single reader would find fault.
I imagined my superlative effort would earn
a slap on the back and a hearty “well done!”
Perhaps even a publisher’s high praise
and a commendation cash award
enabling me to offer Miss Honeywell
the opportunity to help us celebrate
the end of a strenuous news day
with a summer refreshment, sipped on
the waterfront Delta deck of the Garlic Sisters
with a view of a lovely world without deadlines.
“Forget it,” the FPE admonished me.
“Who the hell cares about a dead rig?
Fortunately, there was an armed robbery
while you were out wasting your time—-
one bystander wounded, one robber dead,
two arrested and one the cops are hunting.
Talk about last minute luck!
It’s what people secretly want to read
although they never admit it.”
“I’m out of here,” I said, tossing my notebook and photos in the can.
“Not so fast, kid!
I’ve got your next assignment.
Go see if the river patrol has found
any trace of that missing woman.
If not, go after her yourself,
see what you can find,
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3 Comments
It just goes to show where real journalism is during these days of overreaching sensationalism.
Or something like that.
Always like your “take”, Howard.
Mel
Aw the perils of life as a journalist and the depressing news stories that arise daily. Stick with the more uplifting world of entertainment and the arts! And I’m off to see “Ragtime” in Sac this weekend. Just will try not to look at the blight of our capital city while driving in and out!
Great homage story for local journalism! The story makes me think about how local stories are disappearing and why writing all types of stories is important instead of just focusing on crime and other scandals. It makes me appreciate my three years as a journalist and how it benefits a community.