“Blame It On The Goose, Got You Feeling Loose, Blame It On Patron, Got You In The Zone, Blame It On The A-A-A-A-Alcohol…” – Jamie Foxx

I’ve been back in Kansas City for a few months now, and the dating situation has been…well, not so great.  The reason?  There’s no one attractive in my current station.  Well, okay, that’s not really true.  But the problem with joining an established newsroom is that everyone is either married, in a relationship, old enough to be my father, or just not my type.  Like, even a little bit.

It almost makes me long for those days when I was back at my first station, enjoying what I called my “young, fun, and carefree” years (that lasted until I graduated college and my school loans and credit card bills came back to bite me).  After escaping the “DDR (Debauchery in the Dressing Room) Scandal” with my job, I thought the worst of it was behind me.  But little did I know, that gossip spreads like wildfire in newsrooms, and there is no such thing as a secret.  In fact, by the time I left the conference room with Julie to attend to breaking news—-the news of my indiscretions had broken all over the station.  As I walked back to the control room, Sam called out to me: “Better watch yourself, girl. You’re going to have a worse reputation than me!”

I stopped and turned to face him.  He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Excuse me?” I snarled.  I had just gone toe-to-toe with my boss for a relationship that was, oh, three minutes old, while my boyfriend sat there not saying a word.  Plus, my clothes were still wet and cold, and my hair was drying into a curly ball of frizz that could rival Carrot Top.  I was really in no mood to be teased by the guy who single handedly launched my reputation as the office whore.

“I’m just saying…” Sam started as he went back to loading tapes into the decks.  “It doesn’t look very good.”

In my sloshing shoes, I marched toward my one-time friend, and one night stand.

“You really want to talk about what doesn’t look good, Sam?” I asked.  “How about you going after every woman in this place?  You think I don’t know about you just because I’m new here?  I was warned about you from day one.  ‘Stay away from Dirty Sammy,’ everyone told me.  But did I listen?  No.  I thought you had gotten a bad rap.  I thought we were friends, and you fucked me over.  This whole time…this whole time you didn’t give one shit about me.”

“That’s not true,” Sam lashed back at me.  “You have no idea!  Melissa came over the morning after…after you stayed the night…”

But before he could continue, Melissa came barreling out of the control room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she yelled at me.  “I wasn’t fucking kidding around about the breaking news.  Get your ass in here!”

I locked eyes with Sam before muttering “This isn’t over,” and following Melissa into the control room.  What did he mean she came over that morning? Could that be the reason why I was so promptly shown the door? And more importantly, am I going to have to kick my roommate’s ass?

Unfortunately, these were all questions that would have to wait.  After dealing with the breaking news and directing that evening’s newscasts, all I wanted to do was go home, take a real shower, and go to bed.  But I wasn’t going to be that lucky.  Erik caught up with me as I was walking to my car.

“Hey,” he said as he jogged to catch up with me.  “I’m sorry about everything that happened in there today.”

I kept walking.  I was too emotionally and physically exhausted to have this conversation right now.

“It’s fine,” I muttered as I increased my pace.  “I just want to go home.”

Erik grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to stop and look at him.

“Really?” he asked. “Because you don’t seem fine.”

Now he’d done it.

“Why wouldn’t I be fine, Erik?” I exploded.  “Because you lied to me and everyone else here about your fake relationship? Because you didn’t have enough respect for me to tell me what was going on before we slept together?  Or the fact that you let me take the heat with Julie today?”

“I know, you’re right,” he said, trying to calm me down.  “You just don’t understand.  I have a lot more to lose than you do.”

“Are you fucking serious?” I shouted at him.  Some of the production crew, who had been heading to their cars, were now standing in the parking lot staring at us.  “Really, Erik?  What exactly do you have to lose?  Your amazing job as the weekend anchor of the lowest rated newscast in this small ass town?  Or your stellar reputation as a pussy in the newsroom?”

I pulled away from his grasp and stormed to my car.  As I drove off, I saw him in my rear view mirror, still standing in the middle of the parking lot as I drove away.  It took about ten minutes before I started feeling bad about the way I exploded at him.  He’s right, I told myself, he does have a lot more to lose than I do.  This is his career—I still don’t know if it’s what I want to do.  Plus, I’m only 21, and still in college.  Erik’s old. 27. This is his life.

“Fuck me,” I muttered as I turned the car around and drove back to the station.  I was hoping Erik would still be standing in the middle of the parking lot, dumbfounded.  He wasn’t.

“Son of a bitch!” I said as I pulled into the parking lot.  “Now what?”  Do I call him?  Would he answer?  I know I wouldn’t if I was him.  I could go home, but Melissa would be there, and with what Sam had told me earlier–that would lead to a fight, and I really don’t want to have ANOTHER fight right now.  So what am I going to do?

Twenty minutes later, I made my decision.

KNOCK, KNOCK!

“Erik, are you there? We need to talk.”

“It’s Much Too Late To Find, You Think You’ve Changed Your Mind, You Better Change It Back Or We Will Both Be Sorry, Don’t You Want Me Baby?” – Human League

 

The other day, I stopped by the gas station on my way into work.  Not only was my car on fumes, but I was in dire need of a caffeine fix.  I was standing in line to pay for my large coffee when I caught the eye of a guy standing next to me.  He looked over and smiled.  I smiled back.

 

“Hi,” he said, moving into my line.  “What are you up to today?”

 

“Just going to work,” I said, “hence the abnormally large cup of coffee.  What about you?”

 

“I’m off today.  Getting ready to head down to the lake.”

 

“Cool,” I said as the woman in front of me finished her purchase of three packs of Winston Salem cigarettes, a 32 ounce Mountain Dew, and an economy sized bag of beef jerky.

 

“Is this everything?” the cashier asked.

 

“Yes,” I replied.

 

“$1.52,” the cashier said.  But before I could hand over any money, the stranger next to me said, “I got it.”

 

“Oh, thanks!” I said, surprised at his generosity.  “That’s really nice of you.”

 

He paid for my coffee and his bottled water, and we walked out the door together.

 

“I’m Matt, by the way.”

 

“I’m Cara. Nice to meet you.”

 

“Well, Cara, you’re cute…but you look like you have a bit of crazy in you.”

 

Um, what?! Where did that come from? And who is this random guy to flirt with me, buy my coffee, and then tell me I’m crazy?  Oh wait, these thoughts are probably making me look even more crazy.

So, I did what any sane girl would.  I took a deep breath, flashed him by best smile and said, “i’m actually the sanest person I know.  But then again, that isn’t saying much.  Thanks for the coffee.”  Then I walked away.

 

As I headed back to my car, I really wanted to turn around and see if he was still standing there…but I didn’t.  It would’ve taken away from the “fuck you” effect I was going for.  By the time I got in my car and pulled out of the lot, Matt was gone.  Probably back into the store to prey on his next victim.

 

So, I think at this point in my story, it’s safe to say I don’t have the best luck when it comes to dating…or with the opposite sex in general.  Shocking, right?

I’m not a fan of dating—there’s too many emotions, concerns, and games involved.  Too many nights wondering “Does he like me?  Does he not like me?  Did I talk about myself too much? I probably shouldn’t have slept with him on the first date.”

There’s also too many late nights cyber stalking his Facebook page and trying to determine which girls in his photos are friends, and which ones he has likely slept with at some point.  And don’t think I’m crazy—this is fairly common practice for many girls…and is the number one reason why I don’t like dating.

 

If possible, I would actually prefer meeting someone and having the conversation go something like this:

 

“Hi, I’m Matt.”

 

“Hi, Matt, I’m Cara.  Nice to meet you.”

 

“You too.  Are you single?”

 

“Why yes, Matt, I am.  Are you?”

 

“Sure am.  Want to be my girlfriend?”

 

“Works for me.”

 

Is that too much to ask? I mean, really?

 

“Was It Something I Said, Or Something I Did, Did My Words Not Come Out Right?” – Poison

What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you at work?  Maybe you forgot about a project and were called out during a staff meeting, accidentally sent an inappropriate e-mail to your boss, or got ridiculously drunk at the office Christmas party and ended up singing “Like a Virgin” karaoke.  Well, while all of those are pretty bad…they’re nowhere near my most embarrassing moment—of being caught by my boss with my new boyfriend, pants around my ankles and dripping wet in the dressing room shower stall.

To this day (several years after the fact), I still have no idea how I managed to somehow justify this situation in my head, and march into the Executive Producer’s “office” (also known as the news conference room) ready for my face off with Julie.  Granted, I had taken a few minutes to wring out my sopping wet clothes and dry my hair underneath the dressing room’s hand dryer.  Then, sloshing in my wet shoes, I went to meet my fate.

Julie’s back was to me as I approached the conference room.  Erik was already sitting down.  He looked terrified.  Crap, I thought, looks like I’m going to have to be the strong one here.  I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Sit down,” Julie said, her back still to me.  I walked around the table to sit next to Erik, my shoes squishing out water every step of the way.

I made a point not to look at Erik, whose eyes were focused on his hands in lap.  I sat down, flashed my bravest smile and said, “So what’s up?”

Julie looked at me, clearly stunned.  She hadn’t been expecting me to make this difficult.  “What were you doing in the dressing room?”

“I was taking a shower.”

“In your clothes?”

“I was trying to turn the water on, and it came at me full blast.”

“Why was Erik wet?”

“He came in to help me turn the water off.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I said.  Holy crap, can I really pull this off?

“That’s the story you want to stick with?” Julie asked, tapping her pen on the table, clearly annoyed.

“That’s the only story there is.”

Julie looked at me, obviously not believing a single word I’d said.  Little did she know, I was bound and determined not to go down without a fight.  I had already hit my lowest point.  There was nothing left to lose.  After all, my boss had just seen me half-naked, mid…uh, make up with my new boyfriend (that the entire station thought I had stolen from someone else), and as soon as the station heard what happened—I was going to officially become the office skank.  What else could go wrong?  I’d get fired?  Big deal.

I sat there staring at Julie, and she looked back at me for what seemed like an eternity.  Finally, she took a deep breath, looked down at the table, and put down her pen.  She was going in for the kill.

“Well…” she said, a very smug look coming across her face, “Erik told me a very different story.”

I stared at her, doing my best to hold my poker face.

“What do you think about that?” she asked, barely containing her smile.

“I think Erik was probably trying to cover for me.  He knows the showers are for on-air talent only, and he didn’t want me to get in trouble for using them.”

“Why were you using them?”

“Because I was dirty.”

“You know you should shower at home,” Julie scolded.  If she wasn’t going to get a confession, she apparently was going to reprimand me in some way.

“Yes, I know.  I’m sorry.”

Julie let out a big sigh.  Erik, who was still looking down at his hands, hadn’t moved the entire time.  In fact, he looked like he was a heartbeat away from passing out.

“Erik,” Julie said, “you can go.”

I swear, Erik was out the door before Julie finished her sentence.  To this day, I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.

“Are we done here?” I asked as I started to get up from my chair.

“No, we’re not.  Sit back down,” Julie growled.

Oh shit, I thought, I got too cocky.  Here’s where I’m going to get fired.

Luckily for me, Julie didn’t get the chance, because at that moment, my roommate/producer burst into the conference room.

“Breaking news!” she yelled.  “Cara, I need you in the booth…NOW!”

I looked at Julie, and she nodded her head for me to go.  I was safe…for now.  Would I say thank you and leave with my head down?  Nah, not my style.

Instead, I slowly stood up, straightened out my clothes and looked right into Julie’s eyes.  “I love my job,” I said, as I flashed her a big grin and walked out the door.

But my victory was short-lived.  As soon as I made it to the hallway, I knew that last statement was going to come back to haunt me.  And boy, was I right.

“Because You Walk Pretty, Because You Talk Pretty, ‘Cause You Make Me Sick, And I’m Not Leaving Until You’re Leaving…” – Robin Thicke

I am both sad and happy to report that Cara has accepted a job at the number one station in Kansas City, MO.  She has been an invaluable part of the news team for the past two and a half years.  In her time here we have seen huge improvements in the quality of our newscasts and we owe a huge part of that to Cara’s efforts.  She stepped up to the plate as Acting News Director, not once, but twice, during her tenure, making sure that we didn’t lose any momentum when I was out on maternity leave.

Not only are we going to miss Cara’s great work ethic, and “super producer” eye for detail, but we are going to miss a warm and wonderful personality that makes the newsroom a really fun place to be!

Please come by and give Cara a fond farewell.  We know she has a very bright future ahead of her!!!

Nice, isn’t it?  That’s the e-mail my News Director sent out to inform the staff I was leaving.  It’s nice to finally go out on a high note at one of my stations (although I have tarnished my reputation here slightly in the past few weeks), especially since I nearly got fired from my first job—for what was dubbed the “DDR Scandal (Debauchery in the Dressing Room).”

It had all started innocently enough—a fight with a co-worker who I had recently started dating, turned into making up…and then REALLY making up in the dressing room at work.  We were actually mid…uh, make up…when we heard–

KNOCK!  KNOCK!

“Erik, are you in there?” the station’s new Executive Producer (and soon-to-be pain in my ass) Julie, called from the other side of the door.

Erik and I froze, a look of terror on both our faces.  “Shit,” I whispered, “Don’t say anything.”

“Is Cara in there with you?”

“Fuck!” I whispered again.  Erik and I looked at each other, still too scared to move.

“Open the door,” she demanded.

“Hang on one second,” Erik responded, a hint of fear in his voice.  “I’m just getting out of the shower.”

Erik and I quickly grabbed our clothes and started dressing at the speed of light.

“The shower?” I whispered.  “Your hair isn’t even wet!”

“Quick!  Get in there,” Erik whispered as he tried ushering me into the station’s small shower stall, my clothes still in my arms.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Just stay in here, and don’t say a word,” Erik said as I moved directly underneath the shower head.

“But–” I started to say as we heard another knock on the door.

“Erik!  I need you to open the door RIGHT NOW.”

“I’m sorry,” Erik said as he leaned in and kissed me, and turned on the shower.  All of a sudden, I was hit with a burst of ice cold water.  I screamed in shock, but because of the kiss, the muffled sound could not be heard.  And Erik ended up with a douse of water on his head—just enough to look like he had, in fact, just gotten out of the shower.

He closed the door to the shower room, and I stood there, dripping wet and freezing.  I could barely make out the conversation in the next room after Erik unlocked the dressing room and let Julie inside.

“What’s going on in here?” she asked.

“Nothing.  Like I said, I just got out of the shower,” Erik tried to casually say, but he was so nervous he was practically stumbling over every word.

“Well, I need to talk to you,” she said.  “Mind if I sit down?”

“No, by all means,” Erik said as he motioned her to the couch.

I moved closer to the door in an attempt to hear what was going on, but couldn’t make out anything until–

“What the hell is this?”

“Oh my god,” Erik exclaimed.  “Where did that come from?”

What the fuck are they talking about?  Did I leave a sock or something in the dressing room? I quickly dropped my pile of clothes and started going through everything.  Socks, pants, bra, everything was here.

“You said you were just in the shower, right?” Julie asked Erik.

“Uh, yeah.  I came into work late and decided to take a quick shower before the show.”

“So you don’t mind if I check in there?”

Oh shit.  There was no hiding in the shower room.  I started frantically pulling my sopping wet clothes back on.

I could tell Erik didn’t know what to do.  “Sure, you can check in there if you want,” he said, “but I don’t know why you would need to.”

I heard some commotion, almost like Erik running for the door to the shower room.

“Erik, move away from the door,” Julie commanded.

I froze in place, scared to move, scared to breathe.  I had only managed to get my t-shirt back on, and had just one leg in my jeans.

“Seriously, Erik, MOVE!”

Oh, shit.

The next thing I knew, the show door swung open, and I was face-to-face with Julie.  She looked me up and down, taking in my dripping wet hair and sopping clothes.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just smiled at her.  Julie let out a huge sigh.

“We need to talk,” she said.  “NOW.”

“Oh, Won’t You Take Me Home Tonight? Oh, Down Beside That Red Firelight, Oh You Gonna Let It All Hang Out, Fat Bottomed Girls You Make The Rocking World Go Round…” – Queen

Dear News Director:

After two wonderful years together, I regret to inform you that it is time for me to move on.  My last day will be Friday, February 18th.  I can only imagine what you must be feeling now: betrayal, anguish, frustration, complete heartbreak.  Trust me, this pain is normal and will fade with time.

Believe me, it’s not you—it’s me.  After my recent indiscretions, I can no longer look you in the eyes without an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment.  Please know that, in my heart, I will always love you.  I do honestly believe this is for the best, and while you will never find someone who is an even better fit for you than I was, hopefully you’ll come close.

It’s been a really great run, and I appreciate all the good (and bad) times we’ve had together.  I hope we can still be friends.

The clock is ticking.  In just over a week, I will walk out of my current newsroom for the last time.  I recently handed in my resignation letter to the news director (AKA my boss—see above) and am basically spending my last two weeks as a lame duck Assistant News Director.  Sure, I’m still here (physically), and I still participate in meetings (sarcastically), but other than that, the majority of my time has been spent on Facebook, texting, and well, blogging.

In my last few weeks at the station, I have transformed into the kind of manager that I always hated working for—the kind who didn’t give a damn.  The quintessential version of this manager was the Executive Producer at my first station (who was hired, and spent the first six months of her tenure planning a Disney World wedding—no joke).

Julie was hired a few months after I started, and spent her first few weeks shadowing the weekend crew so she could see “what we’re all about.”  Unfortunately for me, her first day on the weekend shift happened to be the same day all the drama with Erik and Amber was playing out.

Erik and I were in the dressing room when according to my roommate, Jennifer, Julie came into the newsroom, wedding binder in hand.

“Hey Jennifer,” Julie chirped as she walked to her desk, and put down her wedding schwag.  She looked around the newsroom.  “Where is everyone?” she asked.

“Oh, well,” Jennifer tried to stall, knowing that Erik and I were locked inside the small dressing room down the hall.  “Well, Cara had to run out for a minute, and I think Erik’s running late.”

She looked nervously around the room.  For someone who slept around with married men as much as she did, you would’ve thought Jennifer would have a better poker face.  “Everyone else is here, though!”

“But didn’t I see Cara’s car in the parking lot?”  Julie asked.  “She’s drives that old Cutlass, right?”  Julie walked to the window and pointed to my car.  “See?  It’s right there.  Where did she go?”

“Oh, uh, ” Jennifer stumbled.  “She must’ve come back and I didn’t see her.  She’s probably down in the control room.”

“Oh, okay,” Julie said, then sat down at her desk.

Jennifer let out a sigh of relief.  As she tried to continue working, she noticed Julie was staring at her.

“Is something wrong?” Jennifer asked.

“You said Cara was down in the control room, right?”

“I’m sure she is.”

“Hmmm.  Well, maybe I’ll just go down there and see what she’s up to.”

But Julie didn’t move.  She just sat there looking at Jennifer, waiting for her to react.

“Um, okay,” Jennifer finally said after about ten seconds.

Julie got up and started walking to the control room, where I definitely was not.

I was still in the dressing room with Erik.

“You really want to do this?”  he asked.

“You know what?  I do,” I told him.  “I really like you, and think this could be really good.  So what if Amber has a problem with it?  She’ll just have to get over it.”

“And so will the rest of the newsroom,” Erik said.

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly realizing what an impact our new relationship was going to have on our co-workers.  With such a small newsroom, I had already been hit hard with the fact that everyone knew everything about everyone else—so there would be no hiding our relationship, and there would be convincing anyone that I didn’t steal Erik from Amber.

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” I told him.  “I’ve already made a name for myself as the office skank—”

“Actually, Jennifer’s clenched that title,” Erik said.

I laughed as he leaned in and kissed me.  I felt my heart skip a beat.  I REALLY liked this guy.

He gently pulled away and rested his forehead against mine.

“I wish we weren’t at work right now,” he whispered.

I smiled.  “Why is that?”

“Because I want you so bad right now.”

I looked up at the clock.  3:45PM.  The first newscast of the evening wasn’t until 6:00PM, and I didn’t have to start marking scripts or get ready to direct until 5:00PM, at the latest.

“We’ve got time,” I said as I pulled him on top of me.

Five minutes later, I was propped up on the dressing room table with my back against the mirror.

And that’s when it happened.

KNOCK!  KNOCK!

“Erik, are you in there?” Julie called from the other side of the door.

Erik and I froze.  “Shit,” I whispered, “Don’t say anything.”

“Is Cara in there with you?”

“Fuck!” I whispered again.  Erik and I looked at each other, still too scared to move.  How were we going to get out of this one?

Julie wasn’t going to give us time to come up with an answer.

“Open the door,” she demanded.

 

“She Said Any Way You Want It, That’s The Way You Need It, Any Way You Want It…” – Journey

If there’s one thing I love about working in TV news, it’s how quickly things can change.  You can spend all day planning for your lead story to be a boring piece on the city budget, and then ten minutes before you go to air, someone can get shot and your entire show changes.  Flying by the seat of your pants—that’s how I like it.

After two years of working at the same television station, in a stable position, my life is again drastically changing.  I spent most of last week interviewing at the number one station in Kansas City, and somehow, I convinced those fools to offer me a job.  Now my relatively calm and predictable life is about to be flipped on its head in just two weeks time.  That’s when I have to once again pack up my life, strap my three dogs into my Ford Focus (jealous?) and hit the road for the 1800 mile journey from California to the Midwest.

And jobs aren’t the only thing that can change in the blink of an eye—so can relationships built within the confines of TV news.  Within a two hour span, I had broken up the yearlong relationship between the weekend anchor and morning show producer at my station, and now the anchor, Erik, wanted to talk to me about it.  I agreed to have the discussion in the dressing room—away from the prying eyes (and ears) of the newsroom.  Bad decision.

Erik held the door open for me as I followed him into the dressing room.  He closed and locked the door while I sat down on the couch across from the mirror.  I watched as he slowly made his way to the chair across from me.

“So,” he slowly said.  ” I know this is going to sound bad, but I can explain.”

Really?  This should be good.

I looked at him expectantly.  He stared at me for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and began.

“I didn’t tell you about Amber because…” he sighed.  “Because I didn’t want you to know about her.”

What?  Why? But I still didn’t say anything.  I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I would either scream at him, or forgive him—and I wasn’t ready to do either.

“I met Amber when I started working here last year.  We hung out a few times, but it was more as friends than anything else.  Then one night, she called me, really upset.  She said she had gotten into a fight with her boyfriend, and wanted to talk.”

Nice move, Amber.  I’ve used that a time or two.

Erik started wringing his hands.  “I told her she could come over.  I mean, I really thought she just wanted to talk.  But she gets there, and…”

Erik stood up and started pacing the room.  He walked back and forth at least five times before he spoke again.

“She said the guy had hit her,” he said as he continued pacing.  “She was bawling, and nothing I said would calm her down.  I tried to get her to call the police and have the guy arrested, but she refused.  I told her that I’d help her find a new place to live and get away from him, but she didn’t want to do that.”

He stopped pacing and turned toward me.  “It was like she had turned into a different person.  Normally, Amber was fun and easy going, but that night—I didn’t know what to do.”

Erik stood staring at me for a minute before sitting next to me on the couch.

“Nothing was working,” he said, “so I offered to let her stay at my place for a few days until she could figure the whole thing out.  She agreed, and I let her sleep in my bed and I slept on the couch.”

I couldn’t take it anymore.  What in the heck did this have to do with him not telling me they were dating?

“Okay,” I said, “but what does this have to do with you not telling me you two were dating?”

“We’re not dating,” he said.  “Never were.”

What?!

“What?!”

“You know how newsrooms are,” he said.  “She crashed at my place for a few days, and someone found out, then everyone found out.  Amber was embarrassed about what happened with her boyfriend, so she asked me not to tell anyone.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No,” he said as he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.  “It was easier just to let everyone think that we had hooked up, so I didn’t say anything.  And since then…” he sighed.  “It hasn’t really been an issue, because I was never interested in any of the girls here.  That is, until you showed up.”

My head was spinning.  A covert operation that had gone on, undetected, for nearly a year in the newsroom?  This was insane!

“Let me get this straight,” I said.  “You agreed to pretend to be Amber’s boyfriend for a whole year?”

“Yes.”

“And in that time, the two of you never hooked up?”

“Not once.”

“And why in the hell should I believe you?  Especially when I just watched Amber lose her shit in the parking lot?  Why would she want to fight me over some fake boyfriend?”

“Well, about the time you hooked up with Sam, Amber told me she wanted to take our relationship to the next level.”

I felt my face flush with embarrassment.  Must my one-night-stand be thrown in my face for all eternity?

“So we tried it,” Erik explained.  “We went out on a date, dinner and drinks, and then went back to my place.  Honestly, I wasn’t feeling it, but I could tell that she really wanted it to work.  So I kissed her.  But that’s it.  I couldn’t do any more than that, so I told her I thought we were better off as friends.”

“But that still doesn’t explain—” I started to say.

“Let me finish,” he said as he stood up and started pacing again.  “I made a deal with her that night.”

“What kind of deal?”

“I promised that I would keep pretending to be her boyfriend, and if I wanted to start dating someone, I would let her know so she could break up with me in front of the newsroom.”

I shook my head in disbelief.  “This is the craziest story I’ve ever heard.”

“I should’ve told her that I was interested in you then, but I thought you were with Sam.  I didn’t think anything would happen.  Then last night…it just kind of happened.”

I didn’t know what to say.  Erik returned to the couch and sat next to me.  He put his hand on top of mine and gave it a squeeze.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” he said.  “But I really think we could have something great here.  I mean, don’t you?”

I looked at him, unsure of what to say.  Yes, I did think we could have something great.  But I also thought that of Sam, and that ended with my being ushered out of his home, and the entire station thinking I was an easy lay.  Granted, sleeping with a second person at the station wasn’t helping my cause, but was this really something I wanted to deal with?  Is it better to be the girl who broke up a fake couple and then ran, or the girl who broke up the fake couple and then stole the man?

I let out a huge sigh.  “Erik,” I said as I looked him in the eyes, “I hope to God you’re telling me the truth.”

“I am,” he assured me.

I took a breath.  It was now or never.

“Then fuck it,” I said.  “Let’s see what happens.”

“Since I’ve Come On Home, My Body’s Been A Mess, And I Miss Your Ginger Hair And The Way You Like To Dress…” – Amy Winehouse

There is no such thing as a secret when it comes to television newsrooms.  No matter how covert an operation you think you have completed, someone ALWAYS finds out about it.  And then, like wildfire, the news spreads throughout the newsroom until there is no point in trying to hide it anymore.

This recently happened to me in my current newsroom, and because I still work here, I’m not yet willing to divulge that story.  And unfortunately for me, it wasn’t the first time a piece of my private information got out.

At my first station, word got out about my one night stand with Sam before the condom even came off, and I was confronted about my fling with Erik literally minutes after I left his apartment to head to work.  The problem with this?  While I was making a reputation for myself as the newsroom skank, I somehow had missed the memo that Erik had been dating the morning show producer, Amber, for nearly a year.

After being confronted by Amber in the station parking lot, I went inside to wait for Erik.  Ten minutes after I arrived, I was in the control room working on graphics for the newscast when the phone rang.

“Dude!” my roommate, Jennifer, practically yelled into the phone.  “Erik just showed up!  Get your ass back up to the newsroom, I think Amber’s going to beat the shit out of him!”

I slammed down the phone and practically sprinted up the stairs to the newsroom.  Jennifer was already standing at the window, watching the action.

“Look at this!” she squealed with delight.  “Man, she’s pissed!”

I peered out the window, slightly nervous that Amber would see me and turn her fury back on me.  Little did I know, I had nothing to worry about.  Amber was screaming, red-faced, two inches from Erik’s face.  About every five seconds or so, she would jab her finger into Erik’s chest.

“I wish we could hear what they’re saying,” I whispered.

“Let’s go outside,” Jennifer said.  “I’ll pretend I’m coming out to smoke a cigarette.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked.  “That girl nearly beat me into a pulp, and you want me to go out there and poke the bear with a fucking stick?  Hell no!”

“Alright, alright, you fucking baby,” she said.  “We’ll just watch from in here.”

The spectacle continued for another ten minutes.  Amber would frantically wave her arms, poke Erik, yell in his face, then pace back and forth.  This cycle went on over and over—the whole time, Erik just stood there watching.  He didn’t say one word.  He didn’t react when she poked or shoved him.  He didn’t do anything.

“What the hell is he doing?” Jennifer finally wondered aloud.

“I have no idea,” I said.  “He’s just standing there.  I mean, doesn’t he care?”

“You’re probably the last person who should care about his relationship with Amber.  After all, you’re the one who fucked it up.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped back.  “I’m hardly the office whore.  At least I didn’t drunkenly through myself at Sam TWICE after he’d already slept with me.”

“Yeah, you just get in and get out, don’t you?” she snarled.  “Hurt whoever you want to hurt, it doesn’t matter.  As long as you get some attention for one night, that’s all that matters.”

“That’s the pot calling the fucking kettle black.  By the way, do you need me to pick up some more antibiotics for your fucking chlamydia?  Or did the last batch take care of it?”

Jennifer stood there with a look of shock on her face.

“Don’t you fucking judge me,” I growled as I moved closer to my prey.  “Sleeping with two people does not a whore make.  You, on the other hand, get around like a fucking record, so back the fuck off.”

Before she could respond, we heard a car door slam.  Forgetting our fight (don’t you love roommates), we both turned back to the window.  Amber was back in her car, hauling ass out of the parking lot.  Erik was still standing there, seemingly unaffected.  Once Amber was out of sight, Erik pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket and lit it.  He stood there smoking it until there was nothing left to smoke.  Then he turned to head inside the station.

“Oh shit, here he comes!” Jennifer yelled.  We both ran in opposite directions where we could look like we’d been “working”—I sprinted to the control room, and Jennifer ran back to her desk in the newsroom.

I had just gotten to my computer and sat down when I heard footsteps coming.  I tried to ignore them and act like I was deeply engrossed in making a fullscreen graphic for the newscast when I felt a hand on my shoulder.  It was Erik.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“You got that right,” I said.  “I just ran into Amber in the parking lot.  Why didn’t you tell me you two were together?”  I was starting to get heated.  “Now I look like the fucking office skank…AGAIN!”

Erik tried to calm me down by putting both of his hands on my shoulders.  Little did he know, it just enraged me even more.

“Look,” he soothed.  “I thought you knew.  I mean, everyone knows.”

“Not.  Fucking.  Everyone.” I snarled.

“Can we not talk about this here?” he asked.

“Oh, and where would you like to talk about it?”

“In the dressing room.”

Great, I thought.  That’s all people need to see, me following Erik into the dressing room after I hooked up with him, and then broke up his relationship.  Now what?  I’m going to have a quickie at work?

But I couldn’t let him walk away.  I knew if that happened, I would never get another chance to finish this conversation.

“Lead the way,” I said.

“I Want Your Love, And I Want Your Revenge, You And Me Could Write A Bad Romance…” – Lady GaGa

We’ve all heard the saying that you shouldn’t fish off the company pier or dip your pen in the company ink.  Basically, dating at work = bad idea.  Yet so many of us have to learn this over and over again.  I know I’ve fallen prey to the appeal of dating a co-worker at time or two…okay, at every single station I’ve ever worked at.  But at least most of my impropriety was able to be kept under wraps…at least until I started this blog.

I don’t know if there’s an industry as accepting of interoffice dating than TV news.  Think about it: you’ve got a newsroom full of reasonably attractive on-air “talent,” super creative and talented writers, producers, and editors, and nearly everyone is only committed to the place for a few years.  Why not fuck around with a co-worker when the two of you get drunk at some random party?  After all, if things go right—you’ve got a hookup who understands crazy work schedules and doesn’t blink if you sleep through a date Friday night because you’ve been on the overnight shift.  And if things go wrong—well, you’ve only got a handful of months before one of you lands a bigger and better job and moves on.  And with the minimal pay most of us in the industry make these days, we deserve some fringe benefits, right?

Well, the problem is those fringe benefits are rarely worth it.  After my first night and morning with Erik, we were both scheduled to work that afternoon.  After how quickly things had gone sour with Sam after we hit the bedroom, I was on cloud nine that Erik was still even talking to me when I drove to the station.   But things quickly changed.  As soon as I turned into the parking lot, I saw the morning show producer, Amber, standing next to her car.  

I smiled and waved at Amber as I drove past, not really thinking twice about why the morning show producer would be at work when she should be home sleeping.  She didn’t wave or smile back.  Oh shit, I thought, that’s not good. I sighed as I pulled into a parking spot and muttered, “Well,  this should be interesting,” as I got out of my car.  Amber started walking toward me.

“Hey Amber,” I tried to say as casually as possible.  “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said approached.  “It’s about what happened last night.”

“Last night?” I asked.  Shit,  this is going to be about Erik.  Play dumb, you know nothing. “Why, what happened?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Amber growled.  “I know you went home with Erik.”

Shit, here we go.  Girl drama.

“Uh-huh,” I said.  “And what business is it of yours?”

“He’s my fucking boyfriend, you dumb whore.”

Each word hit me like a dagger.  Fucking.  Boyfriend.  You have got to be kidding me!  Boyfriend.  Boyfriend?  Fucking BOYFRIEND?!?

“Boyfriend?”  There was no way to contain my shock.  “Boyfriend?”  Say something else, you idiot! “Uh, what?”

“We’ve been dating for over a year!”  She moved closer until her face was two inches from mine.  My back pressed against the side of my car.  If this girl threw a punch, there was no where for me to go. “Fuck you, you fucking bitch!”  Little bits of spit hit me in the face as she continued to scream.  What kind of shit are you trying to pull?!”

“Look, Amber,” I said, trying to calm the situation.  “I swear to you, I didn’t know Erik had a girlfriend.  He never told me.  In fact, he was the one who asked me out!  So before you go calling me a fucking whore, you need to look at your so-called boyfriend who has been picking up chicks behind your back.”

Amber, who had a good four inches and twenty pounds on me, was momentarily shocked that someone smaller than her wasn’t backing down.  I took this opportunity to duck underneath her arm and move away from my car.  If this bitch wanted to fight, I sure as hell was going to make sure I had enough room to go down swinging.

Amber’s eyes followed me as I walked backwards towards the station.

“Fuck you!” she shouted as I made it to the station door.

I heard the door lock click as I moved my key card toward the sensor behind my back.  I opened the door, gave Amber my biggest smile possible, and ran inside.

“What the fuck was that?!” I yelled, at no one in particular.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” echoed back at me.  Jennifer.  My slutastic roommate.  Never had I been so happy to see her skanky self in the newsroom.

“Look out the window,” I said as we both ran to the small window near the assignment desk.  Amber was still outside, pacing back and forth in front of my car, smoking a cigarette.

“What is she doing here?” Jennifer asked.  “Doesn’t she have to be at work in like, five hours?”

“I bet she’s waiting for Erik,” I said.  I turned and looked at my roommate.  “Did you know the two of them are dating?”

“Yeah, everyone knows that.  It’s pretty serious,” Jennifer said.  “They’ve been together for like, a year or something.  I think they’re supposed to be moving in together.”

“Really.”  What is wrong with all the guys here?  And why in the hell am I sleeping with them all?

“Uh-oh, I know that look,” Jennifer teased.  “What did you do?”

“Shit,” I muttered.  “I’ll tell you about it later.”  I looked back out the window.  “But keep an eye on her.  I think there’s going to be a show when Erik comes into work today.”

“What are you talking about?” Jennifer demanded.  “What in the fuck did you do?”

I smiled at my roommate and started walking toward the control room.  Little did Jennifer or Erik know, but the showdown that was about to take place in the parking lot was no where close to what I was planning once Erik got inside the building.

“It’s A Beautiful Night, We’re Looking For Something Dumb To Do…” – Bruno Mars

Work hard.  Play hard.  That’s a favorite saying of my current news director.  She thinks that because everyone in our small newsroom of 19 has to work so hard all week long to cover a massive viewing area, update the website, post video, and generally kick news’ ass—that it’s our right to continue that work ethic on the weekends.  Now, whether she means power shopping, hiking a mountain, or drinking until you pass out—well, that I’ve never asked.

But I think it’s a motto that could apply to many newsrooms, in many different situations.  Including the infamous going away parties.  Which we just happened to have one of last weekend.

Everyone gathered to say goodbye to our morning anchor—one of the biggest personalities in our tiny newsroom.  It started out innocently enough, with everyone watching the goodbye video we put together, speeches were made, and appetizers served.  But before too long, the Jell-O shots came out, and from there the night got a lot more interesting.  I can’t go into details yet (since many folks I work with have access to this blog—the juicy tidbits will have to come later, after I’ve landed the elusive new job), but I can tell you that many drinks were served, and a little debauchery took place.

After I finally got home and fell into bed around 4AM, I couldn’t help but think about one of the first going away parties I had gone to, with my crush of the moment, Erik.

Everyone at the station met up at a downtown bar to send off one of the reporters to a bigger and better job in Detroit.  I didn’t really know her that well, but there was no way I was going to pass up a chance to hang out with Erik, the weekend anchor.  We had both exchanged drunken “I like yous” during my birthday party a week before, and I’m pretty sure we would’ve had a drunken makeout session in the bathroom—that is, if I didn’t nearly pee my pants and kick him out.

So when I got to the bar that night, I made sure my bladder was empty, my alcohol intake was under control (kind of), and I was freshly showered and shaved and ready for whatever was going to happen that night.  For the most part, the evening was pretty tame—a lot of people were gathered in small groups mingling, talking, and sending congratulations to the reporter.  I had been making my way through each of the groups, slowly sucking down a Newcastle beer (I know, but I thought it was “high-brow” and “sophisticated” back then) when I noticed Erik standing at the bar with the weekend crew.

He noticed me too, and called me over.  “Where have you been?  I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said.

“Really?” I teased, “because I don’t think I’ve seen you move from the bar all night.”

He laughed and put his arm around me.  I could see the surprised looks on the faces of the rest of the weekend crew.  I looked at Erik and smiled.  “Can I buy you a shot?” he asked.

That’s where things start to get a little blurry.  I remember knocking back everything from shots of Jagger (gross) to Tequila Sunrise (wretched) before noticing the bar had cleared out.  “What time is it?” I asked, to no one in particular.

“2:20,” the bartender huffed, clearly not amused at our drunken loitering.  “Last call was 30 minutes ago.  You kids gotta get out of here.”

“Oh shit,” Erik said as he slid off his barstool and grabbed his coat.  “I didn’t realize it was so late.  I’ve got to get home.”  He looked at me for a moment.  “Are you okay to drive?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked.  “Hell no, I can’t drive.  What, were you just going to leave me here?”  I got off my barstool and grabbed my coat, fully intending to storm out of the bar.  Unfortunately, my plan for alcohol control had eroded about three hours earlier, and I ended up almost falling flat on my face while trying to stuff one arm into my coat.

“What are you talking about, you crazy drunk?” Erik asked.  He grabbed my shoulders to keep me from tipping over.   “Of course I’m not leaving you here,” he said as he lifted my chin with his finger.  “I was just asking if you could make the drive to my house or not.”

“Oh,” I said, feeling only slightly embarrassed (thank you, alcohol).  “Definitely can’t make it there without you.  In fact, I don’t even know where my car is.”

Erik laughed as he wrapped his arm around me.  “Okay, Drunky McGee,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”

And we did. I remember walking back to Erik’s car (a “totally tricked out Honda Accord), and crawling into the passenger seat.  “Are you going to be okay?” he asked as he leaned over to fasten my seat belt.

“Uh-huh,” I muttered, before grabbing the sides of his face as he leaned over me.  “Erik, I’m not the kind of girl who can be drunk and sexy, or even pull off a cute giggle.  But I can promise you one thing tonight…and that is I won’t puke in your car.”

“I appreciate that,” he said with a laugh.

Then for some inexplicable reason, I pulled him into a drunken, sloppy kiss.  And what a sweet guy, he went with it. When he finally pulled away, he smiled at me, kissed my forehead, and shut the door.

We drove back to his house, and from there, things get even more awkward and embarrassing, at least for me.  However, when I woke up the next morning, I didn’t have to go searching for Erik the way I did with Sam—he was lying right next to me.  And when he woke up, I wasn’t promptly issued a cup of coffee and my shoes and ushered out the door, the way I was with Sam—but was given another chance to redeem myself in the bedroom.

But little did I know, the next day at work was about to bring a surprise that no one expected.

“Why Do You Build Me Up Buttercup, Baby Just To Let Me Down…” – The Foundations

Breaking news, deadlines, tease writing—these are all things that are stressful in the world of TV news.  But nothing may be as stressful (or as all consuming) as looking for a new job.

The TV news business is unique, because in part, it allows you to live a nomadic lifestyle.  Pick a city, sign a contract, and after two, three, or five years, you’re free to jump ship, pick a new city, and start over.  Or stay and continue to sign your life away to the same station.

At first, the thought of moving across the country, meeting a bunch of new people, and making a new town your home seems exciting.  You send out a handful, a dozen, or 300 resumes and cover letters, and feel like you’re on cloud nine when the News Directors start calling.  So you narrow your search down by asking yourself the tough questions: “Do I really want to live in Birmingham, Alabama?  Am I going to want to slit my wrists if I have to work overnights?  Are the anchors douchebags?”

The answers to those questions severely limit your choices.  From a pile of 10, you may end up with three or four stations that are worth talking to.  After the phone interviews and being flown out to personally interview, you’re lucky to still have two stations that are worth pursuing.

Depending on what job you’re going for, you may have to jump through different hurdles—like watching one of their newscasts and writing a critique, completing a writing test to prove you’re not illiterate, or even hit the field with a photographer and do a story for a newscast.

Once that’s done, the hard part begins.  You like them, you think they like you—and it almost turns into an awkward dating situation.  “Should I call them to follow up?  When should I check in?  I really like you, will you please hire me?”

That, my friends, is where I sit now.  Four stations on the horizon, four good jobs at my fingertips, and I’ve just got to wait until I am chosen.  In a business that’s all about go, go, go…sometimes there’s nothing worse than wait, wait, wait.