odor, and then dash to her office.
She thrived on being the center of attention. She knew her coworkers referred to her as “Hurricane Sue,” and she secretly encouraged the nickname. Her audience ratings were consistently over the top, and viewers loved her. Her colleagues admitted she was the best damn television reporter in the business, and her office wall was a massive collection of trophies and awards, along with photographs of her with every entertainment celebrity, sports hero, and politician of any significance.
Whenever there was a breaking news story, viewers expected to see her in the foreground, wearing a serious expression like a uniform, looking into the camera, her solemn voice reassuring viewers they were getting the very latest and most accurate news.
Seven years ago, when Carl had joined Action 21 News, the news director had taken him aside. “You’re going to be Susan Payne’s cameraman. I have to warn you … ” he said with a snigger, “the most dangerous place in the world to be is between Susan Payne and a photo op. You must be good.” He paused for a moment. “She asked for — no, demanded — we hire you.”
Carl watched as two young interns tried to dodge her fierce look. He enjoyed witnessing their discomfort. Carl wasn’t afraid of her, not anymore. They had been a team for almost eight years now, and he knew her moods almost before she did. No, he wasn’t afraid of her, not at all.
Another cameraman had once told Carl that he didn’t like her very much. “How can you work with someone like that?”
“Because she’s a damn good reporter, the best I have ever worked with. In fact, maybe the best in the business. I respect that,” Carl had answered. It was the truth.
He preferred to assume the feeling of respect was mutual, but he suspected there was only one person Susan Payne actually admired — and that was Susan Payne. Personal feelings didn’t matter to either Susan or Carl. They didn’t have the time or inclination for petty emotions to get in the way of their work. They were proud professionals, and Carl knew that Susan appreciated the significance of having a pro aiming at her through the camera’s eyepiece.
The news director, on one occasion, had said, “You’re the finest cameraman around, and she knows it. She’s lucky to have you doing the point - and - shoot.”
Because Carl had already read the run - sheet she was now holding, he knew why Susan’s mood was worse than usual. The Susan - Carl team had been scooped — and by a kid. An intern for the competition, no less. Carl cringed.
He was relegated to watching his program, Action 21 News, prepare to go on the air live and to relate the evening news. The clock was a cruel master, the second hand sweeping relentlessly as it counted down. They were getting ready to report the story of an accident involving a school bus. The in - house Action 21 News team had scrambled to put the story to bed, but they didn’t have any raw video to edit. There would be nothing on the screen behind the newsreaders. The viewers would stare at the camera, knowing their award - winning Susan - Carl team had missed the story. The producer had to resort to having the news anchors read from a script while viewers saw B - roll from the files. The graphics person and floor crew clawed their headphones off as more scatological shouting came through. It was Karen, the director, venting her anger.
The only file copy of B - roll someone could come up with was a video showing a school bus with happy children waving from the window as it drove by. Worse, it was a tired - looking, clearly dated B - roll.
“What we don’t have,” Karen, the harried director, shouted through their earpiece, “is some actual friggin’ footage of the story!” She ripped her headset and microphone off, hurling it across the control room. “Where the hell was Susan when that story was happening?”
Earlier in the day, a young man had become an
She thrived on being the center of attention. She knew her coworkers referred to her as “Hurricane Sue,” and she secretly encouraged the nickname. Her audience ratings were consistently over the top, and viewers loved her. Her colleagues admitted she was the best damn television reporter in the business, and her office wall was a massive collection of trophies and awards, along with photographs of her with every entertainment celebrity, sports hero, and politician of any significance.
Whenever there was a breaking news story, viewers expected to see her in the foreground, wearing a serious expression like a uniform, looking into the camera, her solemn voice reassuring viewers they were getting the very latest and most accurate news.
Seven years ago, when Carl had joined Action 21 News, the news director had taken him aside. “You’re going to be Susan Payne’s cameraman. I have to warn you … ” he said with a snigger, “the most dangerous place in the world to be is between Susan Payne and a photo op. You must be good.” He paused for a moment. “She asked for — no, demanded — we hire you.”
Carl watched as two young interns tried to dodge her fierce look. He enjoyed witnessing their discomfort. Carl wasn’t afraid of her, not anymore. They had been a team for almost eight years now, and he knew her moods almost before she did. No, he wasn’t afraid of her, not at all.
Another cameraman had once told Carl that he didn’t like her very much. “How can you work with someone like that?”
“Because she’s a damn good reporter, the best I have ever worked with. In fact, maybe the best in the business. I respect that,” Carl had answered. It was the truth.
He preferred to assume the feeling of respect was mutual, but he suspected there was only one person Susan Payne actually admired — and that was Susan Payne. Personal feelings didn’t matter to either Susan or Carl. They didn’t have the time or inclination for petty emotions to get in the way of their work. They were proud professionals, and Carl knew that Susan appreciated the significance of having a pro aiming at her through the camera’s eyepiece.
The news director, on one occasion, had said, “You’re the finest cameraman around, and she knows it. She’s lucky to have you doing the point - and - shoot.”
Because Carl had already read the run - sheet she was now holding, he knew why Susan’s mood was worse than usual. The Susan - Carl team had been scooped — and by a kid. An intern for the competition, no less. Carl cringed.
He was relegated to watching his program, Action 21 News, prepare to go on the air live and to relate the evening news. The clock was a cruel master, the second hand sweeping relentlessly as it counted down. They were getting ready to report the story of an accident involving a school bus. The in - house Action 21 News team had scrambled to put the story to bed, but they didn’t have any raw video to edit. There would be nothing on the screen behind the newsreaders. The viewers would stare at the camera, knowing their award - winning Susan - Carl team had missed the story. The producer had to resort to having the news anchors read from a script while viewers saw B - roll from the files. The graphics person and floor crew clawed their headphones off as more scatological shouting came through. It was Karen, the director, venting her anger.
The only file copy of B - roll someone could come up with was a video showing a school bus with happy children waving from the window as it drove by. Worse, it was a tired - looking, clearly dated B - roll.
“What we don’t have,” Karen, the harried director, shouted through their earpiece, “is some actual friggin’ footage of the story!” She ripped her headset and microphone off, hurling it across the control room. “Where the hell was Susan when that story was happening?”
Earlier in the day, a young man had become an
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