Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Last week - it's a wrap.

Last week - it was a traumatizing one.

First - the news of Jon & Kate divorcing. I know compared to some of the other things that happened later in the week, it seems like a comedy... but I'm still affected.
The death of Ed McMahon was just the beginning.
Then Farrah Fawcett. I watched The View just hours before she died. On the show Barbara Walters said she was in her final hours. That prepared me a little more.

Then the big one - Michael Jackson's death.

We were waiting for that "3rd" one - celebrity deaths always happens in threes. But damn, wasn't expecting death when the news broke that he had been rushed to the hospital. Thanks to TMZ.com for breaking that one. Who knew?

The news broke everywhere that he died during our 6pm newscast. I was in the newsroom scrambling to get the story together for the lead of our 7pm newscast.

But here's the moment I realized it was more than just work, more thank just news: Our Florence reporter, Tonya, called my extention moments after we sent out our breaking news text alert. With a raspy, cracked voice - she said, "Jaimie, is it true? Is Michael Jackson dead?" I said, "Yes, Tonya, it is true." She started crying. She was crying so hard, she had to hang up. There in the midst of a busy newsroom, it hit me just how big and global this was. I started shaking and everything that had happened - from the whole week - finally caught up with me.

Legends were lost. It was quite a week.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Bacon Pants: Two Worlds Collide

I like to dry my pants over the chairs in the dining room so they won't shrink. I do this all the time. No dryer for my pants. The other day, I went downstairs grabbed my pants for work and went about getting ready. Finished getting dressed, watched some Food Network, did my hair, did my make-up - off to work!

I'm in my car - it's small, very compact - all of a sudden I smell, what I think is the aftermath of stagnant fried up something in the house. I'm like crap. My sweater has been soaking up the smells from our stove. I can take it off later. I get to work, and I swear this smell gets worse. What the F! I'm smelling my sweater to find the source. No burned pan meat smell. Then I figure it out - it's my pants.

I called my lovely carnivore boyfriend, and said, "Did you cook something last night? In the house? My pants smell. "

Jimmy: Bacon.
Me: My pants smell like bacon. I'm getting sick from it.
Jimmy: Don't be mean.
Me: Sorry, but my pants smell like bacon, and I'm stuck in these pants for the rest of the night at work.

I grab lotion and spray.. and try to prevent my deskmate, Tim, from smelling the deep-fried aroma coming from my desk. It wasn't the good bacon-in-the-morning smell either. It was the maybe-we-should-have-cleaned-the-pan-before-making-this-last-batch, bacon.

I guess the fried meat smell comes with living with a boy who loves -- well fried meats. The price you pay for L-O-V-E.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Now I'm a complainer.

I've become a complainer. Always something to bitch about at work. Always. Someone's not doing enough, another person is too doing too much to cover up for someone's frickin' laziness, and no one seems to care.

Somone gets laid off - more work for me.
Someone calls in sick - god ***mit. Are they really sick or taking this opportunity to call in because the boss lady happens to be on vacation?
Someone cashes in on their fucking eight weeks of vacation -Maybe we should of thought of this before we laid off half the staff. Who's gonna pick up the slack? It's not rocket science.
Someone is bitching about having to help somone else out - For the love of Pete. Do it. Shut up.

My stress level at work is at about 200%. That's compared to a year ago when it was 95%... when we had a staff of double what it is now. There weren't so many things that YOU were repsonsible for. The workload was split up. There are so many things to remember now.

Check the faxes.
Check the voicemail.
Find news/do the show. (The majority of the work)
Double and triple check your show.
Do your reports.
Make sure you mention the website enough - then document it.
Do the stories for the website. Wait around for someone to check the copy. Post the web stories on a frickin 1998 web style system that takes forever. It's guaranteed that you will be at work another 30 minutes if there are a lot of new stories to post.
Check the fax machine again.
Check newsroom email account.
Check wires.
Check national/regional feed.
Blink - you're getting another damn headache.
Get up and walk around. You're body hurts from the non-stop sitting and typing.
Drink some water.
Start over.
It's exhausting.

I've learned you HAVE to complain. You have to. There are higher expectations now of the ones that are left. You have to step up your game. And if you don't... I will fucking cuss outloud about it - at least when HR isn't around.

This dwindling economy is no doubt taking a toll on our mental and physical health. Stress levels are high and tempers, boy do they flare.

When it comes down to it, I'm very grateful to have a job. I sometimes hate myself for bitching under my breath, to others. So many people don't have work right now and would take any sort of a job. And I know mine could go - poof - like that.

So - bitch as I may, I know I'm very lucky. I have a income that helps me to pay my bills.

But GOD. There better not be any bullshit at work today.

By the way - my first eye exam is in the near future. The headaches at work are becoming more consistent.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Golden Moments

The Golden Girls.

They were so comical, so witty, so... hungry.
They were always eating cheesecake or some sort of dessert around the kitchen table. I always want coffee and cake when I watch this show. But more importantly, they all the time in the world to sit around and do just that - eat cake.
Is that what retirement is? Wouldn't that be just delightful!? Only like 80 more years to go - who retires at 65 anymore?
I think I will be one of those old ladies who gardens. With all the accessories.. including the little stool and cute flowered gloves and of course a sun hat. Then morning coffee in the 'sunroom' while I look at my progress and talk about what I want to do next. Is it sad? I can't tell.
Ahh, Golden moments.