all day. High heels are not worth the pain in your feet. Your legs may look good, but your legs do not show on the air. I’d take Nicole shopping for pants and sensible shoes.
Shooting your own video meant static reporter standups, which are boring, to say the least. I waited for one of my colleagues to mention the obvious question, but no one stepped up.
So I did. “We’re a major-market station, Bryce. How do you expect one-man bands, which typically result in poor-quality video, to increase ratings?”
Bryce seemed surprised by my question. “Who said anything about increasing ratings? Ratings are the least of our worries.”
His answer stunned me. Almost every boss I ever worked for was so obsessed with ratings that the newsroom had a toxic vibe during the sweeps months of November, February, and May. Maybe Bryce would introduce a healthier atmosphere by taking the focus off ratings. Could this be a good thing?
But then he outlined how he had crunched the numbers and the station could be more profitable by settling for second or even third place rather than fighting to be first, and I got it.
“It’s a numbers game,” he said. “And for too long, Channel 3 has been focused on the wrong numbers.”
It was clear our new boss was going to run us into the ground until we were dirt last among viewers. We would be the laughingstock among our news peers. The station would never land another Emmy again.
Bryce pulled a poster from behind the assignment desk with a pie chart labeled with topics like Salaries, Overtime, Equipment, Travel. “It doesn’t matter if our viewership goes down as long as our costs go down more. Simple economics.”
That’s when we learned Bryce had graduated with a BA in business, not journalism.
Cost is definitely a factor in weighing which stories get covered. But to hear it embraced as a primary business strategy was sacrilege to our civic mission to seek truth and report objectively. Newsrooms should not be run the same as hardware stores.
Bryce concluded his lecture by insisting that the implementation of one-man bands would allow Channel 3 to actually cover more news by being in more places at the same time. I wanted to point out a flaw in that reasoning: the station would have to buy twice as many cameras. But in the interests of job preservation, I zipped my lip.
“Channel 3 is paving the way for a new brand of TV journalism,” he said. “Working smart by doing more with less.”
He and the GM high-fived each other, which sent a loud smack reverberating through the silent newsroom. And then Bryce moved among the employees handing out buttons that read WORK SMART. Unprompted, one reporter pinned the slogan to his jacket to demonstrate he was a team player.
Hypocrite.
Kiss-ass.
Suck-up.
Slowly I stepped back, away from Bryce.
But he headed toward me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Riley, I think you’re worried because you’ve been doing your job a certain way for a long time.” He emphasized the word long. “You’re filled with trepidation. That happens with change, but rest assured, I have confidence you can learn new tricks.”
Then he called everyone else over. “I’ve decided Riley will be the first to kick off our one-man-band coverage. Today, you’ll be trained on how to work a television camera. Tomorrow you’ll shoot your first story.”
Bryce started a round of applause that made me nauseous.
“I thought you said this wouldn’t happen overnight,” I said.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “A subpar job won’t end this. What you shoot goes on the air, no matter what. Screw up and you’ll be the one who looks bad—on air and on paper. You better cooperate. I wouldn’t want to write up insubordination for your personnel file.”
CHAPTER 17
B ryce sure meant what he said.
The next morning I was assigned to cover a news conference solo on the front steps of the State Capitol. The training he had promised consisted of showing
Shooting your own video meant static reporter standups, which are boring, to say the least. I waited for one of my colleagues to mention the obvious question, but no one stepped up.
So I did. “We’re a major-market station, Bryce. How do you expect one-man bands, which typically result in poor-quality video, to increase ratings?”
Bryce seemed surprised by my question. “Who said anything about increasing ratings? Ratings are the least of our worries.”
His answer stunned me. Almost every boss I ever worked for was so obsessed with ratings that the newsroom had a toxic vibe during the sweeps months of November, February, and May. Maybe Bryce would introduce a healthier atmosphere by taking the focus off ratings. Could this be a good thing?
But then he outlined how he had crunched the numbers and the station could be more profitable by settling for second or even third place rather than fighting to be first, and I got it.
“It’s a numbers game,” he said. “And for too long, Channel 3 has been focused on the wrong numbers.”
It was clear our new boss was going to run us into the ground until we were dirt last among viewers. We would be the laughingstock among our news peers. The station would never land another Emmy again.
Bryce pulled a poster from behind the assignment desk with a pie chart labeled with topics like Salaries, Overtime, Equipment, Travel. “It doesn’t matter if our viewership goes down as long as our costs go down more. Simple economics.”
That’s when we learned Bryce had graduated with a BA in business, not journalism.
Cost is definitely a factor in weighing which stories get covered. But to hear it embraced as a primary business strategy was sacrilege to our civic mission to seek truth and report objectively. Newsrooms should not be run the same as hardware stores.
Bryce concluded his lecture by insisting that the implementation of one-man bands would allow Channel 3 to actually cover more news by being in more places at the same time. I wanted to point out a flaw in that reasoning: the station would have to buy twice as many cameras. But in the interests of job preservation, I zipped my lip.
“Channel 3 is paving the way for a new brand of TV journalism,” he said. “Working smart by doing more with less.”
He and the GM high-fived each other, which sent a loud smack reverberating through the silent newsroom. And then Bryce moved among the employees handing out buttons that read WORK SMART. Unprompted, one reporter pinned the slogan to his jacket to demonstrate he was a team player.
Hypocrite.
Kiss-ass.
Suck-up.
Slowly I stepped back, away from Bryce.
But he headed toward me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Riley, I think you’re worried because you’ve been doing your job a certain way for a long time.” He emphasized the word long. “You’re filled with trepidation. That happens with change, but rest assured, I have confidence you can learn new tricks.”
Then he called everyone else over. “I’ve decided Riley will be the first to kick off our one-man-band coverage. Today, you’ll be trained on how to work a television camera. Tomorrow you’ll shoot your first story.”
Bryce started a round of applause that made me nauseous.
“I thought you said this wouldn’t happen overnight,” I said.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “A subpar job won’t end this. What you shoot goes on the air, no matter what. Screw up and you’ll be the one who looks bad—on air and on paper. You better cooperate. I wouldn’t want to write up insubordination for your personnel file.”
CHAPTER 17
B ryce sure meant what he said.
The next morning I was assigned to cover a news conference solo on the front steps of the State Capitol. The training he had promised consisted of showing
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