Slackin' Off

Wow.

So, it's been awhile since I last made my presence felt here. Obviously, I've been missed. We've all been a little busy, apparently, and that's okay. It's that time of year. We've got presents to buy, wrap and hide. We've got weather conditions to avoid or frolic in. We've got work, friends and family, school, vacations, and all manner of things on our minds right now. So in the end, it's completely acceptable that none of us could find the time to come over here and commiserate.

Still...more than a week. One of us should have cracked before now. Dumb blind luck it was me, I guess.

Two for flinching, that is.

As previously reported, I've had two jobs going the last couple of weeks. There's the one that pays the bills - the seasonal job at Sony - and the freelance one that could very well be a stepping stone. Both have been going great, for different reasons. And then, there's the other job...the one I've been yapping about for months, only to have my almost giddy dreams vanish into smoke like a magician's trick. More on that one later.

First up, the freelance job. I've already talked about the gig itself, so if you want to know more about it, look at previous posts. Today was the deadline, and I turned in my final draft about an hour ago. Initial response from the editor is that everything looks good, but he's going to go over it in more detail, so that could change. What I really want to do tonight in this segment is to share some not-so-secret information with you kind people. This really should be a no-brainer, but that may just be me.

When I first got the assignment, I was given a list of people to contact. These people had been lined up previously, before the person ahead me dropped out and I was brought in to pinch hit. I contacted everyone on my list and introduced myself. A nice, short letter of introduction explaining that I was looking to interview them - either by phone or by email - and that I needed to know their preference if they were willing. All of them answered immediately. Some wanted to be contacted by phone, some by email. Those who wanted a phone call got one; I recorded the conversation, told them I was doing so, and took my notes. The ones who wanted to be interviewed by email were given a list of questions for them to answer at their leisure. The unwritten rule, of course, being that even if it was a written email, it was still to be considered a formal interview. All answers given were considered cleared and fully quotable.

Until today.

After not hearing from one resort for over a week, I finally got an email from a gentleman on Saturday. Mind you, my initial deadline was Friday. Fortunately for him, it got pushed to today to accommodate a late-comer who wanted to participate. The email on Saturday asked if it was too late to answer the questions I gave the guy over a week ago. I said no, but that I needed them before lunch to go over their answers, ask follow-ups if needed, and work the information into the story. This morning he informed me that he had answered about half of the questions, and had forwarded the remainder to his marketing manager, who would be getting back to me later in the day.

Sigh.

Great. Thanks for wasting my time even more.

A few hours later, I got the blessed email. Answers! Woot. Just what I needed. (not really) I looked them over, highlighting parts I wanted to use, and figured out how to work them into the article. But of course, there's a catch. Because two people wrote the answers, there were two different colors used in the replies. I emailed the marketing manager, asking her who wrote which response so attribution could be properly made. Any good reporter would do the same. Her response? OK, are you sitting down for this? Her answer was, and this is lifted directly from the email...

..."We prefer not to be quoted, but if you really need a specific quote please let us know and we'll work with you on it."

Um...

'Scuse me?

I have specific quotes. You already gave them to me. It's called a RESPONSE. I emailed her back, explaining the situation as politely as I could while still making sure to not cut through my tongue with my teeth. She responded with:

"Okay to use quotes, but please pass all quotes by me before sending to print."

What?!?!

*&%#^)+=?/!@%

Who the #%$! is this woman?

Not being in the mood to pick up a knife, drive to Telluride, and "explain" how things work when being interviewed, I copied and pasted all of their quotes I planned on using into an email so she could see how HER OWN FRIGGIN' WORDS!!!! were going to be handled. A few minutes later, I got her reply:

"Shawn - I need to have my director review; what time is your drop-dead? I'm sorry for the run-around, but I just got this info a couple hours ago and my answers, while accurate, need to be approved before publishing."

Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1. Why didn't the guy I sent the ORIGINAL G*DD*MN EMAIL TO just answer the damn questions?

2. Why, if you're going to pass along said questions to someone else, would you not get $%#/* approval before you reply?

3. Who the )@#$ do you think you are, woman?!?!

In the middle of composing my now nowhere-near-nice response, I got the final email. The approved email. The one that graciously allowed me to directly use as quotable information that which she already friggin' sent me to be used as directly quotable information.

And really, that just sucks. I mean c'mon, how many times have you been building up a hurricane of righteous anger, only to have it deflated at the last second by someone or something? There I am, all fired up and ready to let loose, and it all just...ends. That's painful, I gotta say. Like eating ice cream too quickly, or trying to fart while coughing.

Don't look at me like that. We've all done it, and you know it.

Now armed with extra-super-special permission, I turned in my final draft. Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, my final response to her would have read, "I've already turned the article in, quotes firmly entrenched, you stupid psychopath. Your answers became quotable the moment you clicked SEND, and if you're too busy wondering why that white stuff is falling outside your window to understand how interviews are conducted in the modern world, then you should walk outside, turn your head toward the sky, and wait for the comet that - with any luck - is streaking toward you on a fateful rendezvous."

Yeah, you're right. It didn't actually say that. But now you know what I meant by not being able to vent...

Still, to make a long story short (too late)...the article's turned in, and my editor seems happy. For the time being. That may change, and that's expected. All I have to do now is patiently wait for my check while wondering if the cover story my editor talked about is going to come true. Cuz really, how cool would that be? Your first published work is a cover story (with byline, natch...) in a national trade journal.

I'll answer for you. It's very frackin' cool.

Which, in a neat little bit of transition, brings me to the real job. I've worked at the Sony store in Cherry Creek for three weeks now, and I've got to tell you...I honestly can't remember ever working for a group of people I've liked as a collective whole more than the people at Sony. Maybe I'm crazy (possible), maybe I'm drunk (not as possible, but still likely), or maybe I just finally got lucky. (Not that kind of lucky, pervert, although any serious offers can...um, that's another topic.) The bottom line is that top to bottom, from regular employees all the way down to us seasonal folk, I haven't met anyone there I don't like. Can other people there say the same thing? Who knows. I don't speak for them. Well, I do, but it's usually in that little annoying kiddie brat voice we all use when mocking someone, and only when they're not within earshot. (I said I liked them, not that I didn't make fun of them. It's the Circle of Life...I'm sure they do it to me too.) So, as a way of saying thank you without there being the slightest chance of one of them actually seeing it, I would like to acknowledge the great staff at Sony Style in Cherry Creek Mall, Denver, Colorado (names in no particular order, and apologies to anyone I forgot): John, Chris, Brad, Terry, Joel (stock), Jason, David, Polina, Victor, DC, Maz, Armando, Todd, Matt, James, Molly, Joel (cashier), Sean, Ryan, Tracie and James. You're all good people, and I'm pleased to know you.

Certain people in Utah, however...not so pleased to know them.

I've mentioned before, probably more often than you're comfortable with, the ultimate blogging job I applied for at The Canyons Resort in Park City, Utah. For those of who you stumbled onto this blog by accident and have miraculously made it this far undeterred, I will quickly recap. Four months, all expenses paid, blog 3-4 times a week, get paid $40,000. (There, quick enough for ya?) Considering how long my video application was in the Top 5 for both Voted and Viewed, I figured my chances of at least an interview were better than average. Then things changed. All of the videos that had been on top fell, and fell hard. Suddenly, a week before the deadline, videos that never even cracked the first page were now in the top spots, and the ones on top disappeared, seemingly off the face of the earth.

Still, I was optimistic. I mean, really...I was #3 Viewed and #2 Voted for a month. That had to count for something, right?

Well, in 2 days, I'll know for sure. The Canyons announces the winner on the 15th and to date, I've heard nothing about an interview. At this point, the only way things turn out great for me is if they just decided to give me the job and are waiting until the 15th to let everyone - lil ol' me included - in on the wonderful news. Possible, I suppose, but doubtful.

So I've written that job off. Not gonna happen. Not in the stars. That's okay, though, because I'm willing to bet another resort somewhere will want another blogger; and when that day comes, I'll be armed with a possible cover story in a national trade magazine as a testament to the natural talents you lovely folk have come to appreciate. And with a little luck, it'll be a tropcial resort so my pasty white ass can get a tan. Or, more to the point, a sunburn that fades to a tan for 3.5 minutes before disappearing like a tattoo drawn in invisible ink. In the meantime, I have a good job that's paying my bills, a good group of people I don't mind spending 8 hours a day schlepping 55" TVs around for, and more opportunities on the horizon than I've had in a long time. If there's only one thing I could change right now, it's that I really could use a drink.

Hold on...there's beer in the fridge. German beer. The good stuff.

What am I doing talking to you crazy buggers, then?

G'night, gawkers.