After an elaborate swapping of roles in the newsroom, I landed at the assistant news editor’s desk.
This means that I, essentially, make page three (the wire page) of the Mustang Daily from scratch four days a week. I also gather quotes and headshots for the paper’s Word on the Street section, and see that Drew Ross, the news editor, receives all the bromantic attention he needs (fistpounding, gym spotting, wingmanning).
That last part was a joke.
But my new job is not.
During these first two weeks, I have come to function as part of an intricate machine. And like any good machine, the “parts” of the newsroom depend on all the other parts to carryout their respective roles.
Here, more than at any other job I’ve had, people depend on me to do my work.
Logistically speaking, if I didn’t show up at work one night, page three of the Mustang Daily would be blank the next day.
Realistically, the battle-worn, crack team of editors that have kept this ship afloat for two quarters and counting would switch into crisis mode and fill the gaps of my negligence. But nevertheless, a significant debacle would occur (not to understate the immensity of the bone Kaytlyn Leslie, the editor-in-chief, and Karlee Prazak, the managing editor, would have to pick with me).
So I go.
I go to work whether it is Pint Night at SLO Brewing Co. or Tot Night at Mo|Tav.
And I don’t feel the least bit envious of my friends Instagramming the crap out of those events, while I’m stuck to a chair in the newsroom, laying out my page.
You know why?
Because nobody is truly RELYING on me — or anybody for that matter — to show up at those places. I know that missing Trivia Night at Woodstock’s Pizza doesn’t mean a blank page — an empty space — the next day.
I have earned (or perhaps kidnapped?) the trust of my coworkers (broworker, in Drew’s case), and I intend to keep it as long as I can.