Local Journalism prt II
As I mentioned before, I used to work in local journalism with some of the most fucked up people you could expect to come across - not fucked up on drugs, but on life.

The most common complaint was the belief that they were all cutting-edge journos of the type John Pilger or kate Adie would look up to, with the associated swagger and smary 'brainyness' to boot, when if fact they worked for a title one step up from a village newsletter.

One particular tosser, who managed to get himself into a position of power over the rest of us when no-one lese wanted the job, was the classic example.

He would lecture us all about his great contacts were, and how he knew everything about the world of journalism and was on first name terms with all the heads of news at the national papers, although he never seemed to get any job offers...

But worse was to come. To explain a bit about how the world of journalism works: the local papers have a strange relationship with their larger brethern. It's quite common for the local guys to sell their stories on once they've been published in their own rag, or to give tip offs to the big boys when they hear something juicy. It's just the way the world works, and we all did it. But it's down to the individual journo to sell the story, and take the proceeds, and if they choose not to (it can be a hassle) then that's their decision.

However, after this twunt got his new job in charge of the newsroom, we started noticing our stories appearing in the nationals without us doing anything. One reporter, who was heading for retirement and couldn't give a shit about selling anything, was particularly affected. Of course, we soon worked out that the new boss was selling our stuff - and not only getting paid for it, but claiming the credit too.

Unbelievably, the bastard even denied it when we confronted him, although there was no doubt what was happening.

But as he was the boss, and we weren't violent people, there was nothing we could do .....

Fast forward a few years, and I had moved on to another job, but still in the same company. Journo world being the small pool that it is, I kept tabs on my double-dealing former colleague and even shared a few mutual friends.

So when a truly excellent job came up somewhere else, and I got it, I was delighted to learn he had gone for it as well, only to be unsuccessful.

But best of all, when I was talking to our mutual friend about my good fortune and impending move, she looked kind of quizzical, and said 'so are there two jobs going there?'

Yep, the story-selling shithole - full of his own importance - had got to the second interview stage as I had and assumed the job was his. Puffed-up beyond all measure, he went around telling everyone how he was destined for better things and even handed in his notice.

But alas, the sole position was mine, and he had to go crawling back and withdraw his resignation, accepting a demoted position in the process. Oh, to have seen his face when he got the call telling him he hadn't got the job! Or the moment he confessed he wasn't leaving after all to his 'loving' workmates...

So the motto of the story is, don't go behind your colleague's back, for indeed, Karma is a bitch.
(El Fandango carved a big EF onto his nemesis' doublet on .., Mon 25 Feb 2008, 17:21, Reply)