If I thought I was bad at updating last week, that was nothing compared to this week.
Big changes are happening these days. Most notably, I accepted a job elsewhere, and will be ending (for now) my reporting career, after eight months. Almost.
It would have been nice if:
a., Brandon had gotten an amazing, high-paying job two weeks ago, or,
b., This offer had come a few months from now.
But, we can’t help the timing of such things. And so, starting Sept. 2, I will be writing for a union’s magazine, talking about how amazing Obama is and why living on minimum wage is a sucky bad time. Speaking of wages, I will be getting about a 65 percent raise.
Oh, SNP… I barely knew ye. No, really. I feel like I just got here. I will miss this place; the daily walks with Eileen, the e-mail conversations throughout the day with co-workers. I will miss the dry humor and wit that comes with the territory, and with being surrounded by intelligent writers.
This morning I was sitting at a coffee shop waiting for a woman I was going to interview and I thought to myself, how many jobs are there where you talk to interesting people in coffee shops, have good, meaningful conversations, and then later get paid back for that cup of coffee you had?
My favorite stories will be the ones where I made something positive happen. Like the high school senior who was able to raise enough money to buy hearing aids for a little girl in Grove City after I wrote about her efforts. Or the woman I spoke to twice, once in February and once last month, who is raising money for leukemia research. The first time we spoke over the phone, I didn’t tell her about my mom, but last month when we met in person, I did. And I could tell it actually made her feel better, not worse, to know my connection to cancer. Those are the moments I will miss. Maybe hard news was never going to be my strong suit, but feature writing was what I lived for. Hopefully my new job will give me some of the creativity I have been allowed here.
I hadn’t even gotten sick of the night meetings yet.
I graduated from high school knowing I was going to major in journalism. I never once changed my major in college, I never considered other careers. I also never took the public relations class that was offered there.
Brandon got a call from Battelle, a major lab here, the very morning I accepted the new job. If he ends up getting it, I will be thrilled, but I may also cry. Things may have been different if he’d gotten the money job first. But, it’s not productive to create such scenerios, and no one wants to be so dependent on another person, anyway. We have to be able to take care of ourselves, and even my dad said it would be crazy to turn this down. My dad and uncle are both a little broken-hearted that I am leaving my profession and selling my soul so young, but they understand. I had to ask my dad for money for my car insurance last month, so he knows I’d hit rock bottom.
My only hope is that doing photography, layout and content for a magazine will be related enough to my field that when the time is right, I can come back to reporting. PR is not looked upon with a friendly eye in the world of journalism. "PR is journalism’s ugly, evil twin," as my dad says. Bring on the ugly, I guess.
My last day is Aug. 29, two weeks from today. Here’s to making the most of limited time!