Work

I make it a point not to write too much about the comings and goings at NBC Bay Area because a) we need healthcare b) we get heavily discounted Comcast cable, Internet, and phone, and c) you don't get any of those if you get fired for writing about the comings and goings at NBC Bay Area.

But that sound you hear is my neck snapping back from the whiplash because when things change in this industry, they capital C to the hange. I have worked for 3 news directors in 4 years, which in TV years, is like 6 news directors in 2 years. With each new boss comes new ideas, new strategies, new hires, and an overall new feeling and attitude from the corner office. You know what that's like. Everyone's on a bit of an eggshell carpet, because change is not everyone's BFF. But the funny thing is, even when the changes are good, it still wrinkles people's suspenders. And what's more, it's not even the change that's the biggest deal. It's the ANTICIPATION of change. The IMPENDING change. The POSSIBILITY of change. That's when sphincters begin to tighten.

I have worked long enough in a deadline-centric breaking news-driven environment to deal with change a little more efficiently than the average widget making bear. No offense to widget making bears, but when you work in news, you learn that having your assignment change 4 times in one hour is par for the course and if you don't like it, they are hiring widget making bears all over the Silicon Valley and those bears are laughing at your pittance of a salary and lack of free massages and lunches.

So bears, I know you have a better gig. Especially with the onsite drycleaning and foosball tables and free candy and beanbag chairs.  I'm just saying even for a person who lives and breathes change, CHANGE can get overwhelming at times. If I suffered from stress-related rashes, I would look like this right now.

Just when you think you know what's up, just when you start to get into a groove, BAM, CHANGE! New boss, new owner of your company, new health plan, new 401k offers, new desk, new person sitting in the desk next to yours, new person walking through your newsroom complimenting your blog. Last one is something I am NOT complaining about, veteran morning anchor saying he reads my posts and thinks I'm a "funny and engaging writer." In front of one of my bosses? Oh yes Mister, I will take that kind of CHANGE all day long thankyouverymuch.

New and beautiful and likable talent coming into the newsroom is a tougher pill to swallow. We all have our insecurities and competition in the newsroom ain't newz but when you're used to being among the few whippersnappers and suddenly other whippersnappers are whipping and snapping, you feel a little lot less special.

And you go home to your husband all annoyed like, "Can you belieze this shiz?" But after you walk it out and shadowbox in your living room to some Rihanna S & M, you calm down and listen to the advice your big brother/mentor at the station gives you: Worry about your pile. Don't worry about other people's piles.

That sounds gross but here's the jist of it: I am in one pile. Other people will come in and be placed in other piles. That doesn't guarantee their pile is better than my pile, just that it's different. And my pile is an excellent pile. It's not a throwaway pile. It's an important pile. I needn't concern myself too heavily with what's happening in other piles, because that's only going to be annoying and distracting. I need to make sure my pile is delivering the goods, and that my pile is vocal enough to express that it doesn't want to be my only pile and that I am good in other piles too. AHEM AHEM. But primarily, focus on your pile and don't get sidetracked by other piles.

And my other mentorlicious diva also had excellent advice for me: things sort themselves out and sometimes Time is the best remedy.

It's tough for me to grin and bear it but sometimes actions speak louder than words, and other times, words need to speak loudly too. I've got that second part down pretty pat I think.

Intern Lesson

For once I'm actually going to write about something an intern taught me. Fancy that!

She was blonde, gorgeous, and she competed in fitness competitions. Read: KILLER BODY. I was not nice to her. For no reason. I wasn't a B.A. but I just wasn't my normal, gregarious, interested, chatty, helpful, friendly self. I didn't say hi to her in the halls. I didn't reach out or offer to take her on shoots with me. She was smart enough to finally just ask, and although I said yes, I didn't really talk to her or give her much help. 

She eventually left. And I felt like such a douche baguette. It just didn't sit right with me. It was so not me. I was catty and unfriendly and awful. And then I realized why. I felt threatened by her. Again, for no good reason. She was a freaking intern!

She wasn't out to take my job. She wasn't trying to steal my man. She wasn't eating the special chocolates I hid in my desk. She was just. there. to. learn. It wasn't her fault she was scary pretty and her butt was a trampoline for quarter bouncing.

I felt so dirty for being so douchey that I was extra nice to every intern who ever asked to go out with me after that. Any intern that made the effort to say hello, and introduce themselves was going to get Nice Vicky. Helpful Vicky. Friendly Vicky. Not Jealous, Catty, Snooty, Petty Vicky. 

It totally changed how I interact with other women too, not just interns. I am not a girl hater. I celebrate my successful sistahs. I look for commonalities and I say "You Go Girl!" but not exactly like that because that's sort of dorky in 2010. Kinda like, "Talk to the hand." Memo to co-worker who still says that: don't.

But don't get me wrong. I am not all marshmallows and butterscotch. I still reserve my right to go Bitch Ass when Bitch Assed. 

P.S. No other interns were harmed in the writing of this post. And this was a long time ago, during my years in Phoenix.

How to Become a TV Reporter

So you wanna be a rock super star, and live large. A big house, five cars?

Thank you Google for the Cypress Hill lyrics. And I TOLD YOU IT WAS "FIVE CARS" GOOD DOCTOR!!!

I was singing that the other day while we were walking Emmy and the dogs and he was all, "It's FINE cars, Vicky. Pffftt. Five cars? Hahahahaaha." Well, look who's laughing now. Reminds me of the time we bet 20 million dollars on what Beyonce was saying in Bootylicious. I said it was, "I don't think you're ready for this jelly." And he was all, "No, it's 'I don't think you're ready for this. Yell it.'" You still owe me 20 MILLION BUCKS Mister.

By the way, if I ever offer to bet you 20 million bucks, you shouldn't bet me. I only bet 20 million bucks when I'm 100% sure, final answer, lock it in, NO DEAL!

Anyway, I've been getting a few emails recently asking how to become a reporter.

The short answer: Don't. 

The longer answer: Why?

The longest answer: Fine. If you're sure money is no object, and you love love LOVE working hard and telling stories and you don't need back patting or hand holding and you're ok with an industry that changes every five minutes and not seemingly in a direction that improves the quality of journalism, here's what you do.

Get an internship. You really can't possibly become a TV reporter without knowing what the job entails. And you also need to start building your network. You know, the people who will get to know you, be impressed by you, and make phone calls for you and vouch for you. Plus, you need a resume reel. One that consists of a few stand ups and a few stories. So news directors can see and hear you. Here's some examples of what I'm talking about. You can also go on Youtube and search "reporter resume tapes/reels."

Once you make your resume reel, you need to start sending it out to markets all across the country. Odds are you will one man band to start. And nowadays, maybe you'll one man band for your whole career. Which means, in addition to being a good writer, you need to be a good shooter and editor. You can train yourself, but that's another reason internships are so helpful. Free training. In exchange for your help at the station. 

I've written about how to make the most of your internship here and how much you may expect to make in your first job here. And if you search my site under "Jobs" "Career" "Work," you'll find other insights and rants about this job that may be helpful in deterring you. Or revving you up, you masochist you. If you have what it takes to be a reporter, you've already read all that and that's why you emailed me.

Sites I've also found helpful include TV Jobs and Talent Dynamics.

Sites that tell it like it is Local News Queen and Live Apartment Fire.

Characteristics and abilities you must have. They are not optional and non negotiable:

Tenacity. Self-motivation. Cojones. Self-awareness. Confidence. The ability to see and take BS. The ability to get around BS. The ability to call your own shots while others are calling your shots. An open mind and willingness to work with people, I mean really work with people, from every odd corner of the mental landscape. And I'm not even talking about the gen pop.

Things that are nice to have but not required:

A supportive significant other who listens well and allows you to kvetch. Unlimited supplies of cash. A supportive significant other with unlimited supplies of cash.

That should be enough to get you started. Getting the first job is always the hardest. Once you're in, it's like a gang. You have to get jumped out. 

Intern Parent

Now that all the @Work drama has subsided somewhat, I can go back to my roots and why I started this website.

To give my husband a mental hernia.

I have taken to calling myself "The Intern Parent."

I'm interning under The Good Doctor of course. And I will take 81% of the blame. I don't know what I'm doing most of the time, and he's a natural. Careful, patient, nurturing, playful. An excellent teacher. 

But also anal. A NAHL. And quick to let me know there is a RIGHT way, and there is a WRONG way. To everything.

Normally that's an endearing quality because we typically agree on the RIGHTS and WRONGS. 

RIGHT: Embracing technology to make our lives easier.

WRONG: Playing on the iPad while Emmy is playing with scissors.

RIGHT: Chocolate tastes best in cake, ice cream, and soymilk form.

WRONG: Interrupting your spouse's sleep. AT ANY TIME. FOR ANY REASON. Even if I'm drooling.

But there are so many rules when it comes interning for The Good Doctor. Drawers must be closed at all times. The baby can't be disturbed while drinking milk. No running the water during Emmy's naps. Teach her things. Follow her pointer finger. Read to her at least 20 minutes a day. Do not cross your eyes while looking at her.

It's all a bit much at times, Mr. Perfect Parent.

But thinking of myself as an "Intern Parent" really takes the pressure off.

Interns can screw up. Interns don't get paid. No one expects much from the intern!

But a good intern, a really really good one, eventually makes it. They get a desk, they start writing stories, they get interviews, they do your job. Suddenly they're not interns anymore. They're colleagues.

So watch it Good Doctor. This Intern Parent is coming for you.

Are You Real? Really Real?

"Not actors? Right here? In front of Nancy Pelosi's house? Right now? You're not actors trying to fool me? Because someone did that once. They tried to fool me. So you're real? You're really real?"

"I have never been realer, ma'am."

Here's how we got to that conversation.

This lady, a perfectly normal looking white lady in her 30's, comes walking down Broadway last week as we were getting some shots of Nancy Pelosi's house. Turns out some guy was calling the bejesus out of the Speaker and saying things like, "If you ever want to see your home again, don't vote for health care reform." So says the FBI. And believe me, you don't want to get on the FBI's BAD SIDE.

We're wrapping up. It's me, photog Jeremy, and Intern. Yes, that's what I call my interns.

Jeremy starts putting away the camera after recording Emmy award worthy shots of the Pelosi stronghold. Lady walks up and asks where the sandwich shop is on Union. Jeremy tells her to keep walking and take a left and she'll see it. She then asks for a card, saying, "I have a really great story for you. Really great. Really really great. But I don't have time to tell you right now because I need to get dinner. I'm starving. But it's a great story. Really great."

So we're like, "Oh here, hang on." I dug around my purse for my cards but instead found one stale green gummy bear and two ibuprofens. By the time I looked up to tell the lady I was sorry I didn't have any cards left, Jeremy had already handed her his card. Two of them, in fact. We always love when people come up with story pitches and we can give them a card and hope they will send us a legitimate email or leave a message later on with a "really really great story."

That rarely happens but we never shut the door on Opportunity.

We say our polite thank yous and goodbyes. But nope. There's more. She looked at Jeremy's card. Repeatedly. And then asked us why we were there. So we explained the whole Pelosi stalker thing. Then she looked at the live van, plastered in peacocks and NBC logos, and goes, "Are you real? You're not actors? You didn't go to Julliard? Because I want to go there. Or Medill. To do what you do."

At which point we see a hint of Crazy. All was good until she started peppering us with questions about our realness. And the stories about her divorce. And the guy who was following her and videotaping her and tried to hit her with his car to kill her.

But when Intern nicely said, "We're real. See the van?" The lady responded, "Yeah but this could be from a movie set. That's what happened last time. They had a van, too."

During the Q and A, there was a point where she looked down at the NBC peacock and straight up broke down. Crying with real tears, "You're real. You guys are really real. Right here?" Moments later, tears were gone. It was gripping.

I could not stop engaging with her. But finally Jeremy climbed into the van, and we said she should get going before it got too dark. "Yeah. I'm afraid of the dark. I'll call you. I have a great story. Really really great." She gave us one last sweeping look before limping off. Apparently from her broken foot. You know, from when she was hit by the car.

Still waiting for the call on that really great, really really great story. Thank God she has Jeremy's business card. On which his cell phone number is printed.