What am I doing here?
People ask me what I do on the assignment desk, or as I like to call it, "The Hexagon"..so here it goes...in the form of a story...
"I find myself puzzled and I'm confused, for the last hour I have been dealing with breaking news and the rants of viewers on the phone wondering why we cut into "The Price is Right" and asking if the woman from Ohio won the "Showcase Showdown". I may or may not be sweating from the adrenalin pumping through my veins and the scanners blaring so loud I may actually be legally deaf.
For the first time in an hour I lift my head up from my computer to see my co-worker, eating. How that must be nice. A snack you say? What are those?
The assignment desk isn't a pretty place, there are papers everywhere, the sound of constant typing and at least 7 scanners constantly blaring. But from up here on "The Hexagon" I see the tropical fruity oasis known as "The Pod". This is the place where happy goes to hangout...or where Rob Polansky enjoys the benefits of eating potassium filled fruits at his lesisure while the world blows up around him. Keep calm Polansky, I got this"
I am an assignment editor, I am the person who fields all the viewer calls claiming they see aliens. I am the person who finds the end to the endless emails that enter the stations inbox. I am the person that gets yelled at by every PD/FD/Government Official....all so the producer, can eat a banana, and produce a flawless show. I will die at young age from the stress, but Polansky will live forever, and have great muscle flexiabilty because he has the time to eat a banana amid the chaos.
I will post as much as I can from my view from "The Hexagon".
"I find myself puzzled and I'm confused, for the last hour I have been dealing with breaking news and the rants of viewers on the phone wondering why we cut into "The Price is Right" and asking if the woman from Ohio won the "Showcase Showdown". I may or may not be sweating from the adrenalin pumping through my veins and the scanners blaring so loud I may actually be legally deaf.
For the first time in an hour I lift my head up from my computer to see my co-worker, eating. How that must be nice. A snack you say? What are those?
The assignment desk isn't a pretty place, there are papers everywhere, the sound of constant typing and at least 7 scanners constantly blaring. But from up here on "The Hexagon" I see the tropical fruity oasis known as "The Pod". This is the place where happy goes to hangout...or where Rob Polansky enjoys the benefits of eating potassium filled fruits at his lesisure while the world blows up around him. Keep calm Polansky, I got this"
I will post as much as I can from my view from "The Hexagon".
It should be noted... that this particular view from The Hexagon is fairly exaggerated and unbalanced. Life at "The Pod" is no less stressful, despite the number of bananas I or my colleagues may consume. It's not our job to answer the phones... but to write and fact-check meticulous scripts that may or may not hit air, while the whole time, our backs are against the wall thanks to a few numbers supplied by the Nielsen company. Lose track of a single detail and the powers-that-be are on you like stank on a monkey's behind.
ReplyDeleteWhile I may indeed live longer, my hair has already began graying and I expect to be completely bald by the age of 32.
From one of my Reporters: Oh, the grass is always greener! At least from the "The Hexagon" or "The Pod" you have a desk, a mouse, and not to mention A BATHROOM. Meanwhile, out there on the streets, half my job is not to miss one of the million emails all of you send me... while all around me the world is literally "blowing up." Alarms going off, flashing lights in the pitch black, people either sobbing on my shoulder or asking me if I'm hiding Scot Haney in the back of my car. And then somehow, amid all that chaos, pause-- at least once every half hour--- and project perfect composure. We may complain about the stress, but we all come back every day (or in my case every middle of the night). So the question isn't what do we do, but why the heck do we love to do it?
ReplyDelete