Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

After about two weeks of trying to track down an answer, I finally found out how to order our office supplies. The person who was the Purchaser of Pens and Paper left, so it’s now part of my job, but no one knew how to do it. Thankfully, we now have most of the stuff we were supposed to get. Also, I’m thinking about quitting and going into the office supply business, because $20 for four plastic binders seems like quite a profit margin.

Fergus is insistent that yellow legal pads are the only ones that will work, not white. I really wanted to order white, because I’m mean and petty like that, but did not.

I was out sick yesterday, and forgot that it was Election Day. On Election Day, we have to stay late so when the reporters call in the numbers from the different precincts, we can post them to the website. Boss did not mention anything about it on Wednesday, so I don’t feel too bad that I missed it. 

It’s really hard to talk on the phone when you can’t breathe. I answered the same as I always do, and one of the funeral homes I deal with regularly didn’t believe it was me for a minute. Even though I have a stuffy nose, I’m pretty sure I still sound more or less like myself. 

Farquad was on the phone this morning, talking to someone about our archives. Due to a computer error, they only go back to the early 90’s. The library had the older ones on microfiche. He’s insisting to the person on the phone that if he checks our archives, he can find what he’s looking for from the 60’s. I’m waving my arms to get his attention, and when it looks like I’m trying to land a plane, he finally turns to look. I explained to him that we don’t have them. He then does an about face on the phone, and acts like he’s said to check the library the entire time. 

Fergus finally explained to me his phone call system, and I no longer wonder why a great many people won’t deal with him anymore. He starts by calling every 10 minutes (At around 7:30 a.m., mind you) and does that about three times. Then every five minutes, then every three. Ugh. The more I work with him, the more I’m glad he doesn’t call me.

One of my coworker just told me she feels like she should tell me to go lay down, so I must not be holding up as well as I thought. This afternoon might find me snoozing on the couch in the ladies’ room. That’s right, we have a couch in the bathroom. We’re fancy like that. 

Finally, I leave you with an election night story from Neighboring Small Town where my parents and I live. Mom says they saw all sorts of people they knew when they went to vote, then were reminded to get a corndog for dinner on their way out.

I previously wrote this on the Friday August 3 open thread on Ask a Manager.

Who on earth is Tim?

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Wakeen was talking about a TV show, and said you have to watch it to know what's going on. What a shocking revelation.

My counterpart, Violet, brought her grandson by to trick or treat on Wednesday. (She also brought candy for us to give him.) It went well. I tried to dye my hair pink. It did not go well.

I may have to smash our fax machine. It broke, IT came to fix it, pulled it apart, and left it in pieces. I made them bring us a replacement. It was running out of ink, and Fergus was getting sixty pages that he already had, but we had to let come through, because there might be something new in there. There wasn't. And every three pages or so, I had to take out the ink cartridge and shake it, and try again. Not fun.

Fergus is bad, but honestly, Wakeen is giving him a run for his money. Fergus talks a lot, but Wakeen just... talks. Doesn't matter if anyone is listening. I got to hear ALL about his wife's dental issues, their car, what he thinks about some articles in the paper (which he read to us) and whatever crosses his mind.

Our jobs have a lot to do with email. Which makes sense. Wakeen was waiting on someone in the school system to call him back. He emailed, then called again a few hours later. Which was hours after that day's deadline. He was SHOCKED that no one had responded to his email right away. I told him I would be surprised if I heard back from someone right away, and he didn't know what to make of that.

This morning, Violet and I were talking about the fax machine, and Wakeen pipes up and says, "Tim, you've done it again with the fax." We do not have a Tim. Violet and I just looked at each other, but he meant Tim Allen. Cause that makes sense.

Show me your listening ears

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Wakeen reads his emails out loud as he writes them. He also speaks to no one in general, narrating his day. It's not great, overall. He talked several times one morning about how he's getting his wife a gift certificate to a salon for her birthday today. Cause that'll go over well. "Here, honey, for your birthday, change how you look!"

Fergus was one the phone, and described someone as made for childbearing. I about got in trouble for the look I gave Violet, cause I already made her choke on her drink for something earlier.

I had a woman call about an obit. I didn't have it from the funeral home yet and she said while she had me on the phone, she had a question. Her husband passed away, and his name was spelled wrong. She wants it changed for genealogy purposes. Ok, fine. She then tells me he died two years ago. No dice. There's no way for me to change that. I tell her I'm sorry, but there is not a way to do that. I am the one who would know. She says that's fine. She goes to church with the publisher (GGB) and she'll talk to him about it. So now I have that to look forward to. (In her defense, she phrased it like she thought someone else could fix it. They cannot.)

Fergus had a very loud conversation in the very open room about where exactly on one's person one could store illegal substances. (Horrifyingly, many places, if you were wondering.)

Farquad is online dating. It is not going well. He got in a fight with a woman who said he was using old pictures. He has lost a little weight recently, but is by no means a small man. Apparently, he took great offence to her thinking that he wasn't being honest. I think if he'd learn to spot crazy eyes, his dating life would greatly improve.

My high hopes were for naught. Wakeen is not a great reporter or coworker. At the risk of sounding mean, he just isn't that smart. Someone sitting in the back of the room called him, and he walked up to the lady sitting two desks away from him. In the other direction. She told him who asked him to come to their desk. He said ok, then sat back down at his desk. He had to be asked three more times to 'come here' before he finally understood. He also didn't understand that a doctorate in something makes someone a Ph.D.

I found them!

So since high school, and all through college, any time someone said something witty or funny or particularly stupid, I would make myself a note. That's how this blog came to be born. When I started this job, I was taking the notes on paper, and then taking them home, lest someone see. I then promptly lost the papers, but this weekend, I found them. Here are a few of my favorites. Upon looking through them, many are about Fergus.

One Saturday night (which is the best time to listen to the police scanner) two people pulled guns on each other, someone else put scissors in their ear, and they found a dead body. This was after a pig escaped during transport and ran into the road. (It was returned without harm.)

A man called in, and said he didn't want his name or phone number out there. It's never good when people start out a conversation like that. He was a racist, and I wasn't surprised he didn't want people to know.

A call came in over the scanner. A woman had called 911, because her mother believed she was being attacked by her coffee, and also Satan.

Our wonderful proofer, who has since retired, was out for a few days when his wife passed away. On his THIRD day back, Fergus offered to set him up with someone.

Fergus likes to talk to GGB whenever he comes through. GGB usually protests that he has a meeting, but when he doesn't, I like to fantasice about getting in my car and never coming back, because they talk for a long time. On one such occasion, Fergus told GGB all about the affairs people in the community had/were having. Some of them were just his opinions.

Fergus once referred to someone as a "Communist Democrat Yankee." he then had a bad conversation in terrible Spanish about lawyers.

And here's one on me. Sometimes, my mouth runs away with me, and one of these days, it's going to get me in trouble. Farquad was talking about how he doesn't believe in marriage anymore. (He's divorced.) I was busy trying to, you know, actually work, and wasn't interested in hearing how another girl rejected him online. So I told him that marriage isn't a unicorn, it does exist. He looked shocked, and sat down and was quiet, but I couldn't tell if what I said was that shocking, or if he was just surprised that I'd said it.

Previously on...

Guys, it’s been quite a week.

Farquad has taken the last three days off, and it has been blessedly quieter. Not quiet, but quieter.

I took a regional magazine thing into our proofreader. It’s one of those that tells you what sort of arts/ entertainment things are going on around town. The kind you pick up on the way into or out of the grocery store, and then leave in the cart without reading it. Anyway, our proofreader is one of my favorite coworkers. He’s in his 80’s, and I’m pretty sure I woke him up from a light snooze when I took it in. I asked if he’d proof it for me, and he asked what it was. “It’s Teapot Entertainment Bimonthly.” He sighed and goes, “Oh, crap.” He then complained about whether some of the people sending in the articles read them first or not. (It’s unlikely.)

Yesterday, Boss’ Boss’ Boss’ (My great-grandboss) and boss’ boss’ walk past boss’ office. GB just says hi, and continues on up the hall. GGB (An old, short, and kind of hateful man) stops and goes, “Boss, did you miss the meeting?” “No,” says Boss. “Well, you weren’t there.” No, says Boss, he wasn’t there, but he didn’t miss it. “Well, who’d you get permission from,” asks GGB. Boss says from his boss (Who is GGB’s son) Well, GGB is not having it. AT ALL. “In the future, if you are going to miss a meeting, you better ask the person leading the meeting. If you want to keep your job.” This was not said in his office in an attempt to be quiet. This was in the doorway of boss’s office, in front of the newsroom. Now, we all know that nothing’s going to actually happen, because we are basically working with a skeleton crew as is, but what GGB doesn’t realize, is that if he did fire boss, everyone else wouldn’t be able to work either.

Someone came in to interview for the open reporter position. I went up front to make some copies (aka spy and make copies) after they called back to let Boss know that the person was here. They’d already gone into the conference room, but I asked the receptionist about the person. She gives me a physical description, and says that they seemed nice. I asked if she thought they could handle Jane, my new counterpart. She very sweetly answered that she thought they could handle Fergus just fine.

Today, they moved our deadline two hours earlier than normal, because we’re having some sort of charity fundraiser cookout. Fine, cool. I get to see several people, including Boss, get pies to the face. Awesome. While I’m not thrilled about having to get up before six to get here an hour and a half earlier than I normally do. What I have a little more issue with, is that we have to do portions of the Sunday paper on Fridays. So after the party, which isn’t guaranteed to be much, we get to come back inside and work for another four hours while the rest of the building goes home. (Our proofreader asked what all this nonsense in the parking lot is about. He is clearly not impressed.)

Fergus is bugging Jane. He asks all sorts of questions while she’s trying to work, none of which were about work. A few minutes ago, it’s about Spongeshow. I LOVE spongeshow, says Fergus. Do you think sponge is gay? “I do not care if he’s gay,” says Jane who is trying to work. “I think it’s stupid.” Fergus just walks two feet towards his desk, then turns and wants to know what cartoons I watched as a kid.

Boss demands a 9v battery. I go and ask the guy in charge of the press, because he’s most likely to have one. He doesn’t. The front office doesn’t. Boss is freaking out. He needs a 9v, and he needs it now. He’s usually more even keeled than this, but I’m trying to find him one. No one in the building has one. Is there something we could take one out of? The guy who runs the press comes in, brandishing one. He remembered he’d had one under his car seat forever, but he tells Boss he’s not sure if it’s any good. Boss touches it to his tongue, and says it’s good. Then, you can see the expression on his face as he realizes he’s put something in his mouth that’s been on the floor of someone’s car for no one knows how long.

I previously wrote this on the Friday July 27 open thread on Ask a Manager.

Conspiracies abound

This week in a Small Town Newsroom, and thoughts on Boss's Day

I had vacation this week (commence with the happy dance) so I missed most of the goings on, but there's enough that goes on that even just being here last Saturday night and this morning, it's a wild ride.

Wakeen thinks that Princess Di was murdered. Or, assassinated, I guess? We were talking last Friday about the royal wedding, and he just comes slightly out of left field with that observation. Thankfully, Fergus was not here, so I didn't get to hear his thoughts on the subject.

I came in to work with damp hair today, which is relevant. I have fairly thick hair, and even though I washed it last night, it was still damp this morning. In the past, I happened to mention one day that my hair was still wet, and Fergus asked if he could touch it. I told him no, and that that was weird.

I'm now going to work on my photoshop skills and see if I can fix this woman's super skinny eyebrows. Tips appreciated.

Boss's Day was Tuesday. I wasn't at work, and even if I was, I would not have celebrated with my current boss in any way. However, I love Boss's Day. My first job was at my family's hardware store, working for my dad. Tuesday was also his birthday, so I get to celebrate him double for his birthday, and as the best/first boss I had.

Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

(Sadly, I do not know how this ended) Yesterday, it came over the scanner that one of the banks had locked someone in the vault by accident, and they needed the police to come and get them out. 

Fergus sent one of our photographers to get some pictures of these two little girls raising money for St. Jude. Well, he wasn’t really specific about what sort of photos he wanted. The next day, we all get called into Boss’s office, who asked what in God’s name is going on, and there is no way we could publish that, and was Fergus some sort of perv. The photographer had taken pictures of the two little girls (Maybe 6 yrs old?) sitting on a bed, holding dollar bills fanned out. With no context, it did not look like a upstanding situation. We chose to run the photo of them “presenting the money to the police” which I called paying off the cops. 

Late Saturday night, the computer systems stalled, and one of the IT guys had to remote in and try and fix it. The system was overloaded, and some things needed to be moved or taken off. He got excited, and started deleting things right and left. Boss somehow compared IT deleting stuff to flinging Napalm in Vietnam. It was a stretch, but he really committed. 

Jane was in a seperate space in our bullpen, and could hear what was going on, but could not see us, and was removed enough to have her own space. She has now changed jobs, and moved to the desk across from me and next to Farquad. I’m taking bets on how long before she goes off on him. He started talking about his dating life again the other day while I was training her on one of our products, and I half thought she was going to smack him. 

Boss is taking this weekend off, so Jane gets to do my job, and I have to do Boss’s. This will involve the creation of our front page. It could go terribly. If all else fails, there will just be a note at the top to the effect of “This is what it would be like without local newspapers” and the rest of the page blank.

I previously wrote this on the July 20 Friday open thread on Ask A Manager.

The Robots are coming

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Fergus is going on about the singularity again. He doesn't know that's what it's called, and I'm not going to encourage him and point it out, but that's what it is. He starts with how he'll never use one of those virtual assistants (He doesn't even have a cell phone) and then it devolves into him showing someone a video of a robot talking about taking over the world. He has done the same thing three times in the last month. (I am uncertain how the robots are going to get along with the lizard people.) He talked to me for five minutes one day this week about it. He 100% believes that it's going to happen. I have gray hair now.

Wakeen (our new reporter) had a fight with his wife. We got to hear ALL about it. He also got a call from the Bahamas. He assuredly informed me that when you get a call from the Bahamas, it's usually a scam. Usually? I and my friends are not the jet-setting types, so I can't say I've ever gotten a non-scam call from there.

I also found out he is in awe of the color printer. I was printing a proof of something, and it was taking FOREVER because the printer would print a page, then stop. He asked if it was two sided, and I said it was in color. He told me the last place he worked had a printer that could print in black and white AND in color. What a time to be alive.

I had an obit where the man's dog was mentioned. His children were not.

We got a very nasty email from a lady mad at Farquad. She wanted her church news in the paper, which we publish one day a week. He did not communicate this to her, and blew her off several times. Now she's mad, and my problem. I sent her an email apologizing without taking blame (which I'm fairly good at) and we'll see how she responds. (The answer - not well. Also, ad, like advertisement, only has one d.)

I think Fergus is trying to choke me out. He's smoking more than normal, and had a LONG conversation the other day standing behind my chair. I cannot hold my breath that long. I kept coughing, but he did not get the hint. I had to walk next  to his desk this morning to get to the fax machine, and I'm pretty sure there's a fog around his desk. He also messed with my papers yesterday. I suspect it's the nicotine on his fingers, but whenever he touches my papers, there's a stain. It's disgusting. 

Pull Yourself Together

Sigh. I had such high hopes.

Wakeen  had a fight with his wife Monday morning. In the newsroom. In full hearing of everyone. And then we got a rehash of it.

Ooh, he said he didn't talk to her, and hasn't for two days, because he knew she'd get upset. Better not tell her that, dude.

I understand that spouses argue. It happens. Fine, whatever. Sometimes you take calls from your spouse at work. But you tell then you'll talk later if either of you is mad about something, or you  take the call outside.

The fight was about him not making reservations for a hotel because it was booked.

He got a call  a few minutes later from who I'm guessing is one of his children, and he rehashed the fight with them, saying that is wasn't his fault, blah blah.

I want to point out that he's at least in his late 40's, if not his 50's. Not the third grade.

I might have to change his nickname to non sequitur. We were talking about an article, and then he says that his father-in-law is calling, and he doesn't want to talk to him. Ok?

Then, while I was at lunch (which is a whole other post) he comes by and tells me that his wife says it's over. He was very matterafact about it, and almost downright cheerful. He says he isn't worried, because she's said it before.

That seems like an awful heavy statement to just fling around.

Tuesday he says that he's having to stay somewhere else for a while, so I'm not sure if she kicked him out or he left. However, he says he has hope, because she ordered something using their last name(?), which I'm assuming is her legal last name.

Tuesday afternoon, he said he had to go see his father-in-law, and he wasn't looking forward to it, but he'd just have to take it like a man. (As opposed to what, exactly?)

He doesn't have a black eye, so I'm guessing it went ok.

He hasn't said anything about it so far this morning, but the day is young.

Previously on...

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

Farquad was bemoaning the fact that he can’t find an apartments, and actually wondered if there was anywhere stuff like that was posted. I told him if only there was something like a classified section, with listings of places to rent. He did not know that was what was in the classifieds. He was worked in newspapers for the last 20 or so years.

The fax machine ran out of paper, and Fergus decided to refill it. Instead of asking where the paper went, or looking to see if he could figure it out, he simply found the biggest opening he could, and shoved the paper in that. It was not where the paper goes. It was ridiculous. He’s been in this business for over thirty years, and really has no idea how to use it. He did leave a paper jam in the big copier up front, then didn’t tell anyone and walked away. The receptionist said that if he ever did it again, she was going to shame him over the intercom, then murder him and leave his body in the parking lot.

We got a ‘new’ copyeditor this week, when someone else was reassigned. Fergus does not like this person. When he asked whose stuff was at the desk, and I told him, he stood there without speaking for several seconds. I could see the gears in his brain grinding to a halt. 

Another coworker and I were talking about work, when Farquad interrupted that he’d been on OKCupid, (while at work, at his desk) and gotten matched with someone from his high school. Instead of ignoring it, like I feel most people would, he informed us that he messaged her on Facebook to let her know they’d been matched.

I originally wrote this in the July 13 Friday open thread on Ask A Manager

Invasion of the Lizard People

This week in a Small Town Newsroom

So something I've long suspected about Fergus has been confirmed. With his personality type, I was almost certain that he would be a conspiracy theorist. Whoo, boy. Is he ever. He talked for probably about a half an hour today about how some celebrities are secretly lizard people. Lizard people. He made another coworker watch a video on it. He's not sure about some of the others, but he's sure about Beyoncé. There's about a 60/40 chance that he actually believes this. He talks about it like he does.

We did some articles on breast cancer for October. Farquad did a story on a lady who's a breast cancer survivor. He wrote about how she had chemo and radiation. And then a vasectomy. We had to have a talk about how ladies don't have those.

You hear the most interesting things on the scanner on Saturday nights. A woman called in to 911, said her boyfriend/husband/whatever was outside slashing her tires. The dispatcher said she could hear him going on in the background, yelling. Well, about fifteen minutes later, the woman calls back, and says that she doesn't need cops, because he was only pretending to slash her tires. 

Fergus asked our sports reporter how much weight he's lost recently. Sports reporter told him, then Fergus responded that he looked sexy. Sports reporter went back to his office.

I had to take a story over to Great-grand-boss's office for him to proof. I don't really care for him. He  is, frankly, an awful little man. Anyway, I take it to him. He then shooed me out of his office like a dog. I spent the next half hour (while we were on deadline) sitting in his secretary's office, listening to him talk on the phone to someone about how employees today have no loyalty. Also, how to pay them less. His secretary had been in his office a couple of times, so I knew he was working on it. He doesn't know my name, despite the fact that I've been working here more than a year. (My name is not uncommon or hard to pronounce.) So he didn't have a way to call me into his office, and I did not get up. He had to get up out of his chair and come around the corner so it didn't sound as bad when he said 'here you go.'

Farquad is still busy with his big man on campus routine. It was old after five minutes.

This must stop

So since Wakeen has started working here, Farquad has been all puffed up. I think if I poked him with a pin, he'd go flying around the room while all the hot air leaked out.

He's always of the opinion that he's hot stuff, and since Wakeen is here, he's been big man on campus. Talking about how we do it here, and he's done this forever so he knows, and make sure to let him proof a story before it goes out.

Well, that would be fine if Farquad was a half decent writer. He gets some basic grammar wrong consistently, and after insisting that something was ready to go, I read over it on the page. It's good I did. The name of our state was spelled wrong. In the first line of the story.

I'm going to have to help Wakeen along a little soon, because some of the things that Farquad has ben training him how to do are not how we actually do them, and it's making my job a little harder.

(A note- Farquad, while he has no real managerial power, is technically like a half step above the reporters. I am not a reporter. Technically, he's been at this longer, though we've both been at the company the same amount of time, and I in no way report to him.)

Farquad's calmed down a little, but last week I got to hear all about his time in college (again), his time in the service (again), and how he was in a band (you guessed it, again). He also thinks he's funny, and was cracking jokes left and right, then laughing hysterically when he was done.

I cannot take much more of this.

Previously on...

Late July in a Smalltown Newsroom-

It came over the police scanner that an elderly lady was in the street in her wheelchair, trying to direct traffic.

One of my coworkers was fighting on the phone with her husband, telling him he better be out of the house by the time she got home, or he could pick up his stuff in the yard. The next day, they were all the phone being lovey-dovey.

I had a lady call about the cost of an obituary, and come to find out she wanted to put one in for her dog. (I couldn’t help her, but I directed her to advertising.)

I was threatened with a lawsuit by two separate people because they didn’t like an article we published.

It also came over the police scanner that while a criminal was running away, he got caught in barbed wire. The then decided to shoot his way out, (You can see where this is going, right?) and shot himself in the leg.

I originally wrote this in the July 6 Friday open thread on Ask A Manager