I still carry fresh batteries at all times...

Someone pointed out to me today that I only write about the bad experiences I had at my last job. That’s pretty unfair of me, because it was the good stuff that got me hooked on being a reporter. And it is an addiction, trust me.

At first, it took me a while to realize I was getting paid for writing. Every payday caught me by surprise because I was just doing what I always do. I’d think – wow, I get paid for this gig? Cool. That lasted about five minutes. Then it was – wow, I’m getting paid for this gig and I still don’t have any money. Not cool.

But, I digress…

The fun part was getting a lead, jumping in my Explorer, cranking up the radio, and speeding without getting caught. I had an intimate relationship with the paper’s digital camera and if I could have gotten my scanner to vibrate, life would have been perfect. When I got to the scene it was time to work. I had to gauge the emergency personnel, hang back and take a few shots, eavesdrop enough to figure out who to talk to first, try to put people at ease.

Reporters are not the most popular people at breaking news scenes. Or anywhere, actually – unless somebody wants publicity. We have to deal with all the crap that has gone on before us in the name of journalism. Everyone from city hall to law enforcement to firefighters to EMS workers has had bad experiences with the press, and we pay for it. We’re like the town whore. Everyone wants to get some, but they don’t want to be seen in bed with us.

But, I digress again…

I figured out really quickly that I should have paid more attention in my high school government class. It took forever just to get my law enforcement straight. State troopers, sheriff’s deputies, constables, deputy constables, local police, holy crap! I was just starting to get my feet wet with commissioner’s court, judges, county attorneys, district attorneys, etc., when I quit. It was interesting, but I experienced brain overload on more than one occasion. TMI!

And I would just like to take a moment right now to address the firefighters – Cleveland, Tarkington, you know who you are. Whoever started that crap about anytime a firefighter gets his picture in the paper he has to buy ice cream for the entire department is the devil! All I had to do in Cleveland was walk in the station and you guys scattered like cockroaches in the sunlight. That’s why I bought your cake, Paul. At least Tarkington cut me a break every once in a while.

Anyway, all that to say this: I do love reporting. It is rewarding and frustrating and hard. And I don’t think Walmart could live up to that.