flaming and he doesn’t really fit what people would stereotype as gay, but isn’t it obvious? Does one need to be singing the show tunes to be clear about their sexuality?
The trip turns into a harsh education for Rosie. I thought it might upset her more, but she actually takes it well. She laughs with me for the first time since she started looking for a job.
Need I remind you again that it’s only been eleven business days?
Tuesday morning is our staff meeting. I am mildly hungover. The staff acts like these meetings are the greatest things since the Times Square Shuttle. How much fun can you make articles about cycling? You get a real feel for what exercise geeks these writers are—they sometimes read questions that are sent in to the “Dear Biker” column and laugh about the ignorance of readers. Today is a special treat, we are watching a promotional video for some biking company that wants us to cover their newest brand.
Everyone is on the edge of their seats, mesmerized by the amazing angles the cameraman got on the bikes. Everyone except Lorraine and me. Since Herb has seen all the footage, he manages to be even more smug than usual, like he created the bikes or something.
I do a lot of eye rolling at Lorraine and she shakes her head. She leads the business aspect of the meeting; who is supposed to be doing what assignment, what kind of budgets the writers have and gives us feedback from different departments, lines of business as they are called. Herb does a lot of interrupting during Lorraine’s part. It amazes me that he does it with such ease. He makes the stupidest jokes and people will laugh. How does someone get the confidence to do that? Is it just by being the boss? If I ever tried that I think everyone would look at me as if I had eight heads and maybe I would get a good human resources “talking to.”
The meeting concludes with people reading select excerpts of their articles. There is a separate meeting called the Feed Meet, to get feedback before the articles are published, but this is reading the articles after they are already in the magazine. If we really cared we could just grab a copy of this month’s issue, but Herb insists that certain writers should read their articles during our staff meeting. There is no escape, not even in the fresh-squeezed orangejuice and bran muffins. After the “special” writer finishes, we all have to applaud.
After the meeting I bring the carnage of the picked-over breakfast by my desk. This means that all day long, I’ll have all of them coming by looking at the leftovers as if there might be some new healthy snack that just appears. They also make goofy jokes about how the food is breaking down and are inspired to talk about how many miles and at what speed they have to bike in order to burn off a certain number of calories. Then it always deteriorates to fiber jokes and bathroom humor. Like I said, exercise geeks.
“Do you need any help?” Brian, the new semester slave, asks me after the meeting. I’m in the midst of e-mailing Tabitha.
“No, I’m fine for now.” Brian lives for these meetings. The bad thing about interns is they remind you of how little you have to do, and thus, how little you can pass onto them. Brian is going to be with us all semester, which means that I have him to look forward to until Christmas. “Why don’t you check out some of our old issues?” Brian is one of those interns who thinks if he asks enough questions and kisses enough ass, he’ll get a job here. When Brian isn’t slaving away or kissing ass, he is harassing me. He seems to think that part of the so-called learning experience is being involved in every aspect of the office.
“Hey, Brian. This—” I cover up my monitor “—is personal. It’s not some important job secret that is being kept from you.”
“Oh, okay.” He goes back to sit at his makeshift desk. I guess I should feel bad for the guy. At least I get paid.
He comes back
The trip turns into a harsh education for Rosie. I thought it might upset her more, but she actually takes it well. She laughs with me for the first time since she started looking for a job.
Need I remind you again that it’s only been eleven business days?
Tuesday morning is our staff meeting. I am mildly hungover. The staff acts like these meetings are the greatest things since the Times Square Shuttle. How much fun can you make articles about cycling? You get a real feel for what exercise geeks these writers are—they sometimes read questions that are sent in to the “Dear Biker” column and laugh about the ignorance of readers. Today is a special treat, we are watching a promotional video for some biking company that wants us to cover their newest brand.
Everyone is on the edge of their seats, mesmerized by the amazing angles the cameraman got on the bikes. Everyone except Lorraine and me. Since Herb has seen all the footage, he manages to be even more smug than usual, like he created the bikes or something.
I do a lot of eye rolling at Lorraine and she shakes her head. She leads the business aspect of the meeting; who is supposed to be doing what assignment, what kind of budgets the writers have and gives us feedback from different departments, lines of business as they are called. Herb does a lot of interrupting during Lorraine’s part. It amazes me that he does it with such ease. He makes the stupidest jokes and people will laugh. How does someone get the confidence to do that? Is it just by being the boss? If I ever tried that I think everyone would look at me as if I had eight heads and maybe I would get a good human resources “talking to.”
The meeting concludes with people reading select excerpts of their articles. There is a separate meeting called the Feed Meet, to get feedback before the articles are published, but this is reading the articles after they are already in the magazine. If we really cared we could just grab a copy of this month’s issue, but Herb insists that certain writers should read their articles during our staff meeting. There is no escape, not even in the fresh-squeezed orangejuice and bran muffins. After the “special” writer finishes, we all have to applaud.
After the meeting I bring the carnage of the picked-over breakfast by my desk. This means that all day long, I’ll have all of them coming by looking at the leftovers as if there might be some new healthy snack that just appears. They also make goofy jokes about how the food is breaking down and are inspired to talk about how many miles and at what speed they have to bike in order to burn off a certain number of calories. Then it always deteriorates to fiber jokes and bathroom humor. Like I said, exercise geeks.
“Do you need any help?” Brian, the new semester slave, asks me after the meeting. I’m in the midst of e-mailing Tabitha.
“No, I’m fine for now.” Brian lives for these meetings. The bad thing about interns is they remind you of how little you have to do, and thus, how little you can pass onto them. Brian is going to be with us all semester, which means that I have him to look forward to until Christmas. “Why don’t you check out some of our old issues?” Brian is one of those interns who thinks if he asks enough questions and kisses enough ass, he’ll get a job here. When Brian isn’t slaving away or kissing ass, he is harassing me. He seems to think that part of the so-called learning experience is being involved in every aspect of the office.
“Hey, Brian. This—” I cover up my monitor “—is personal. It’s not some important job secret that is being kept from you.”
“Oh, okay.” He goes back to sit at his makeshift desk. I guess I should feel bad for the guy. At least I get paid.
He comes back
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