Monday, June 24, 2019

My friend John.

I’ve worked in a TV newsroom for the better part of 10 years, and people are often asking about what it’s like.

“How are the anchors? … Is he really as tall as he looks on air? … What about the meteorologist in the morning? Is she nice?”

Speaking for anyone in the business, I think we get a lot of questions.

But if you look past the fancy studio lighting and the allure of the on-air production side of the equation, you’ll find part of the operation that not as many people know to ask about -- yet it’s often the backbone of a newsroom, the piece of the puzzle that makes the whole operation hum. It’s the assignment desk.

These assignment desk editors have to be so balanced, so focused, so composed and extremely news savvy. They have to be able to communicate with the rest of the often-bustling, chaotic newsroom about what’s breaking, where to send a crew, what deserves coverage, and how to communicate a message, while at the same time, fielding phone calls from viewers, digging through court documents, monitoring what the competitors are reporting, placing calls to various police agencies, and relaying messages to web teams, producers, sometimes the talent and most definitely the news managers.

(Assignment desk editors: What am I missing? I must be forgetting at least 5 tasks you’re managing to juggle). Sure, the job is probably a bit different, depending on where you work, but still: the absolute backbone of a local newsroom.

It’s a hell of a role, to say the least. Newsrooms are not often what you’d call relaxing environments, not to mention, viewers can get pretty annoyed when say, someone has to make a decision to cut into regularly scheduled programming for a weather emergency. It’s your assignment desk editor who has to field those calls. Media relations professionals take note: If you’re looking to get a story on air or online, become friendly with this person. Make sure your pitches are feasible. And don’t make them open any email attachments. (When your inbox has hundreds of unopened messages, no one’s got time for an attachment).

These are all lessons I learned from working closely with “the desk” over the years.

The first assignment editor I ever had, a man named John Arguello, passed away recently. He was 61.



I want to tell you a little about John and what he did at the station, not because we worked together for a long time -- in fact, it was just about two years -- but because there’s likely a “John” behind the scenes at other newsrooms in this country. Except it seems hard to believe that they’d have his knack for news, or his sharp wit.

As I read up on John’s life, I learned that he came to WOOD-TV when he was 18. He stayed for 43 years. As a “poor kid from South Dakota,” John had dropped out of high school when he was in the ninth-grade. He ended up on Michigan's west side when he was 18, and started working in the station’s mailroom. From there, he went on to work as a news photographer, an investigative producer and an assignment editor. He met and photographed five sitting U.S. presidents. John went on to know U.S. congressmen, governors and many other politicians on a first-name basis.

He was a seriously impressive guy.



He never told me all of this. I learned some of it over those two years, but I’m still learning about his life, even just through Facebook posts and conversations with former colleagues.

John wasn’t showy.

He knew how to treat people though. We worked together on the night shift, and I had never been around local TV. I’d only had one other job in news after graduating from college, and that was at the newspaper in town. This was my first career job. The first time I got health insurance through an employer and not my dad.

I was 22. I didn’t know the first thing about a VO-SOT (that’s a voice over, with sound on tape), when I walked through those doors. I knew how to write reasonably well, but in a lot of ways, when it came to broadcast, I was as green as it gets.

It would have made sense if John were to snap at me. I was often opening an email from him, then moseying on over to his desk to ask for some kind of translation. What did it mean for me -- as in, how should I write it to post on the web?

John never made me feel silly or out of the loop. On the contrary, he told me (in so many words) to believe in my abilities and trust my gut. He showed me how to sift through court documents. I helped him answer the phones when I had time. He took me under his wing, in a lot of ways. Once when I didn’t have a ride home, he drove me, no questions asked. And I didn’t exactly live close by.

Another time, he dropped off some paperwork at my desk and told me to look at page -- I don’t know, maybe 60? This was a big pile of papers.

We ended up leading the newscast with whatever juicy nugget John had unearthed. No one else in town had it, because no one else in town had John. He was so good at his job. And he led by example, and I feel like every veteran news person could learn something from him. When I have an intern or someone who I’m teaching, I try to emulate what John showed me.

By the way, my boss the next morning told me what a big deal it was, that John had found that piece of news and we’d gotten it posted online so quickly. John made me better. He made all of us better.

In 2011, I moved across the country for another job in news -- thanks in part to John’s guidance, no doubt -- but we kept in touch over the years, on and off. I wish I would have been more consistent. I always thought I'd see him again someday, "next time I went to GR."

Near the end of John’s life, a Facebook page was set up, where people could share their stories and memories.

Some of us knew him for decades. Others recall brief working stints with John, but posted something similar to my experience with him: Something like, “He worked with me closely. He taught me so much. He was so funny. I’ll always remember that.”

His lessons will carry on through all who worked with him, and all who knew him. (Related/unrelated: I am definitely not as funny as John was, but I did make him laugh a few times, which made me quite proud).

And finally, I learned that he wrote his own obituary several years ago, which was posted online in our FB group.

“If I loved you in my lifetime, you knew it. I was never bashful. Remember that as you remember me. I will always be in your heart as you were in mine.”

I love that so much. It's true -- he wasn't bashful. He always called me a silly nickname or told me I was one of his favorite people in the building.

In a lot of ways, I’m just rambling about my friend right now. I’ll miss our occasional emails and I’ll always look back on my time in my first big newsroom and think of working with him.

But also: to anyone who watches the news regularly, reads the news online, and appreciates what it is that this business does every day, thank your local assignment desk. Thank the guys like this.

Monday, April 1, 2019

Dear 24-year-old self, your best years are still ahead.

YOU GUYS. I know I know I know, this is largely a space where I dump a bunch of stories and photos of my kids, and tell you what's new with us, and like, maybe share a mascara recommendation if it's four years ago or I'm in the mood.

But I keep coming back to this same discussion that I seem to be having with a few of my friends, and I feel like I should share it here, as well. Grab a seat!

K, I don't know about you, but I always kind of feared my 30s. It meant I'd officially be getting kind of "older," maybe my looks would start to fall apart a bit (sorry, am I not supposed to type things like that?), I'd fall into the same old monotonous routine, I'd settle, I'd have to have kids, etc. etc. etc.

<< OMG who knew my children would be my greatest joy?  >>

But really -- why did I think that? Any of that? Why does anyone fear her 30s?

I swear though, it's not just me. I've spoken with *so many people* lately who say something along those lines: "AH, I was so nervous to turn 30." Or younger friends who are like, "OMG you're in your 30s? How is it? I'm kind of scared!"

...

You guys, it is the fucking best.

I'll say it again for those of you in the back: like, breaking news. There is nothing more empowering than being in your 30s. I wouldn't go back to my 20s, and not for a second.

That's not even to say they were BAD. I sometimes say I wouldn't go back to high school, and I loved high school. My boyfriend was super hot, I did well on the track team, my grades were deece -- I just ... hmmm. Maybe I don't like to rewind. I just like where I am.

But seriously. I mean it when I say that I really like where I am at the ripe age of 32.

Women in your 40s: tell me! Does it get better? I have a hunch it gets better.

I feel like getting older is secretly bomb; why tf aren't more people talking about this?!

Anyway, now I know my experience isn't everyone's experience, but here's what my 20s were like:

Cute I guess. Hungry in this pic.

-- I mean, fine. I was polite. I followed the rules (ish).
-- I had a husband for some time who told me that my experiences and opinions were ... wrong. He was a little older and wiser (or so I thought), so I listened to him and took what he said very seriously.
-- I was a little insecure. I still got occasional breakouts (as in, like, on my face), and I wouldn't leave the house, even for a run, without makeup. I generally disliked my appearance.
-- I just ... needed approval from people. At work, in relationships, and I felt like I was nervous or scared or something, when it came to situations that really didn't call for nerves or fear. I never wanted to speak up or order at a restaurant first or make anyone uncomfortable. I kinda jumped through hoops and did my best impersonation of what someone in her 20s "should" do. Marry the guy you've been with since college, get a job with health insurance, don't rock the boat.

K now lemme tell you about my 30s:

-- I mean, I'm polite still! I follow the rules that are in place for a reason, or like, when social norms dictate.
-- I finally married someone who treats me well: who listens to me, loves me unconditionally and values me for who I am, even when some of my opinions are probably infuriating or baseless or I insist that Michigan State's loss to Syracuse in the tournament that one year was an inside job (love you, Jim).
-- I'm surprisingly NOT insecure (even when I probably should be?) Ha, I think this might come with the territory when you became a mom. One day you wake up and you're driving to Target in February in your flip-flops in the snow and you find yourself without a bra. Or like, semi-recently I realized I was traipsing around Las Vegas with my friends for brunch, totally fresh-faced and without a drop of makeup on. I mean, did I look perfect? Far from it. But I actually didn't mind my appearance. My skin has finally balanced itself out a bit. It felt CLEAN. And it was like ... more importantly, I learned how not to hate myself anymore.
-- I'm no longer seeking approval, unless of course like, you're my boss, or I have a legitimate reason to care.

Me and my baby girl

And it's not just that you stop giving a fuck. Because I actually *do* GAF -- about a lotttt of things, tbh. It's just like, you get way more selective about the things you choose to care about.

Also like, as a mom, you can't just be all, "But I don't know how this works! What's a nap schedule? Should I vaccinate?" Like, you just start Googling, asking around, and you figure it all out. You have to. You're thrown into the deep end when you become a parent. But you're responsible for other human lives, and that's kind of your responsibility now, you know?

Be better. You can't just flail, you're an adult now.

So yeah, I know I'm only two years in. But for me, so far, my 30s have been like:

-- I deserve to be here. I deserve to have a voice.
If I don't stand up and advocate for myself, my thoughts and my work, who will?
-- I actually know what I want.
Going and getting it, BRB!
-- Cliche but true: Life is too short.
"What do you have to lose?" or "What's the worst thing that could happen?" <--- I ask myself those questions probably twice a day.
-- SAY IT.*

*Also, I don't mean I'm one of those "she tells it like it is!" people. But yeah, if something needs to be said, and it can be done with tact and grace, I'll say it. Firm and direct don't have to mean rude. On the contrary, whenever people are like, "ohhh she's just really REAL. She can't sugarcoat things," I'm like, ohhhh, so her reality must be all of our reality? It takes way more willpower to show restraint than it does to pop off and "tell it like it is."

I really can't stomach that shit.

--------------

And one final thing on the physical beauty front. Everyone ages differently; I get that. Just because my skin has improved ever-so slightly doesn't mean I'm feeling myself 24/7. We all have those gross days where nothing fits just right, or your friends are looking way cuter, or you just want to throw your hands up, like, whyyyyyy?

I still get occasional breakouts. I have a tiny pooch from where I held my baby kangaroos. I definitely have bags under my eyes and crow's feet like a m-f. (I hear sleep is supposed to fix those issues? LMK where I might be able to find some of that). But STILL, you guys. Still! I think I'm prettier than I was at 24, if I can be vain for a sec.

And if I'm wrong about something, I own my shit. If my husband and I are annoyed at each other, we talk it out productively, forgive, and show one another grace. If I'm feeling like I screwed up at work, I dive in and make my next story 50 times better, or I spin, or do yoga, or drink wine with my two best friends and we laugh until our faces hurt, rather than me going and meeting up with 12 acquaintances who I "think" I should be socializing with just to say I did or pass the time.

I'll sit at a restaurant by myself these days or ask dumb questions if I think they need to be asked, or put myself out there a bit. Maybe it's the relatively-newfound confidence, but I think that's what makes you beautiful: being happy in your skin, literally and figuratively. Actual joy and self-assuredness -- that's what people notice. Have you ever looked at someone you really admire and thought, "if only she could lose 5 pounds?" Yeah, me neither. No one cares about that.

Even if you're sitting here rn, thinking like, "20-year-old Michelle, that doesn't sound like the Michelle I know," just be aware that it was very real. It's not as if I crept around life all shy and timid and scared to ask the waiter for more ranch. (Never!) I just ... had some situations, some relationships, and some times that didn't feel quite right. I didn't even know how to classify them at the time. But now I'm just like, happier, more alive and more myself, and it's easier to look back on shit and say, "What a weird time that was, to be alive."

Oh, and one final note: Instagram filters and finally learning how to apply makeup/dress for our bodies ... probably helped. Did that just negate my entire blog post?

Really and truly though: 30s > 20s all day. Now please tell me if you think I'm nuts, or if you're having the same experience!