Shunning Sarah by Julie Kramer Read Free Book Online Page B

via the loudspeaker for a station meeting the next morning. We stood in the center of the newsroom—apprehensive—because the announcements that came out of such gatherings were typically unpleasant, relating to staff layoffs and budget cuts.
    Our old general manager and our new news director stood side by side on the assignment desk’s elevated platform so we all had a clear view. A broad Cheshire-Cat grin stretched across Bryce’s face, and I braced myself for what was about to be said.
    But when the GM started to speak, his words made me think that perhaps the pattern of doom was breaking. “We all know these are tough times for the news business, but Channel 3 is through trying to wait out this cursed economy. We’re going to be proactive.”
    His stump speech had our interest. “Now you’ve all had some time to get to know Bryce, and I want to tell you that together we have developed a strategy that will increase station revenue and allow us to devote our news resources in more creative ways to better compete with our rivals.”
    The elocution now had the sound of a snake-oil scam, but if Bryce knew some management secret to make Channel 3 the news leader of the market, I could get over my fear of snakes.
    “I’m going to let our news director fill you in on this excitingnext step for the station.” Then he turned the floor over to Bryce, who thanked him for his enthusiasm and support.
    “We’re here to discuss three little words that will transform how Channel 3 covers news. Can anyone guess what they are?”
    No one spoke. After all, we already had “high-definition cameras.”
    We already were network “owned and operated.”
    And we’d had “Doppler weather radar” for years.
    Bryce waited to build suspense before yelling out the answer with an animated fist pump to emphasize each word. “ONE. MAN. BANDS.”
    If he was expecting cheers, he was disappointed. We were speechless.
    One-man bands are the mark of small-market stations because they’re cheap. The term is used for reporters who have to shoot their own stories. Normally rookies, not veteran journalists. And certainly not in a major market like the Twin Cities where news employees specialize, whether their skill be anchoring, reporting, videotaping, or producing. We each like to think we excel at our particular jobs.
    I’d seen one-man bands toil in the field when news events took me to small markets like Mankato or Duluth. And I’d always felt sorry for them.
    “Come now, you must have questions,” he said. “Think of it as Multi. Media. Journalism. Hey, that’s three words, too.”
    I figured the whole session must be a trap to weed out those of us who weren’t team players. I bit down on my lip, warning myself to keep quiet. The photographers looked nervous because they sensed job security at stake. If reporters were shooting their own video, what were they going to do?
    “If the reporters will be working as photographers,” cameraman Dave Chaney asked, “will photographers be going on the air?”
    “An excellent question,” Bryce said. “We will be deciding thaton a case-by-case basis. Some of you may end up on camera, others will function as field producers conducting interviews as well as videotaping stories. I realize this can’t happen overnight. Staff will require training.”
    One of the more recent hires, a reporter named Nicole Wilson, looked nervous, and I understood why. Carrying a camera and tripod is hard—especially in high heels. This was her first reporting job in a large market; she was probably still a probationary employee and had to do as ordered. But she was also young and blond, so I figured she’d wind up fine. I gave her a smile of encouragement, even though I myself wasn’t encouraged. Nicole responded with a flash of gratitude, and I made a mental note to do a better job of welcoming her to Channel 3 and teaching her TV chick tricks.
    I was old enough to know better than to run around in heels