The Nature of Newspapers and Nutters

Journalism, the media, print in particular...is there any other industry in the world that attracts so many just, plain crazy people?

Does the job do it to you?
Is it the stress of deadlines and public scrutiny and constantly juggling ethics and sales targets at the same time?

Or do we take these jobs because it's already in us - that little twist?
Face it, you have to be an idealist or an opportunist to survive for any time in the field.
But you don't have to be qualified, or even good at your job, you just have to insanely obsessed with other people's lives...as stories mind you, not real people.
If you think about your 'sources' as people for too long it's hard to keep your objectivity.

This is the second or third time I've met a would-be journalist, well entrenched in a position, with a news sense but no sense of propriety.
I've met a couple of talented, educated journos as well who were all the more frightening simply because the idea that they got that far up the media ladder with so many 'kinks' is plain frightening.

The woman I'm supposed to be bossing around right now is the most frightening because she just glazes over when she's confronted with her own faults or mistakes.
I estimated she's spent eight hours of the past 48 on the phone to three different people, myself included, whinging about how she doesn't have time to do the work in front of her.

Now, considering my own long-running history strapped to a keyboard on a community newspaper, I'd be a lot more sympathetic, EXCEPT THAT I'M DOING HER JOB FOR HER!

What's really terrifying is, I can see myself in this woman.
I can see the terror of looming deadlines, procrastination, self-loathing and inability to fulfill a goal that should be achieveable...which, of course, you just don't want to admit.
Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt.
But in her, it's MAGNIFIED...

So, here I am, with my kids home from school, squished up on my Mum's computer because, quite simply, if I take the five hours to drive home the paper won't get out, sending completed pages to a madwoman who refuses to open her email because her arm hurts and emails take up too much of her time.

I'm starting to feel a little glazed myself.
I've finished two cartons of CocaCola in three days, written half a business plan, done an inspection of a business that I'm not sure I'm capable of driving, not to mention the 15 hours I have spent with my parents going over and over and OVER every detail of the POSSIBLE purchase of said business.
In between I've still managed to do a big part of the Mummy duties, but not all...Mum and The Man have both had the kids for a big part of the past four days or so.
I've called in a friend to feed my animals back home, I've talked to a MILLION people in a tiny town 600km away that I've only been to twice and now...I am going to bed.

I'm sure I wrote a blog a little while back about how I love newspapers.
I take it back.
I take it ALL back!