Psst. You there. The intern with the gleam in your smile and delusions of the anchor desk in your head. Let me hip you to the cold hard facts the profs in the ivory towers of academia will never tell you. TV ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Forget the hairspray and makeup mirror. You won’t need them where you’re headed.
When’s the last time you waded ankle-deep through floating turds with a sparkle in your eye and a mic in your hand? In high heels no less. Or dangled your feet off the bumper of a maggot wagon while a sanitation engineer waxes poetic about the refuse he’s reclaimed from the jaws of The Crusher? We in the news biz call that Wednesday.
Oh, The Places You Will Go is not just a bestseller by a nonsensical doctor with a penchant
for iambic pentameter. It will be your new mantra as long as you don’t mind riding shotgun with an over-caffinated troglodyte whose last shower came sometime before Bill Clinton did not have sex with that woman. But worship the ground he sloughs on, because he’ll save your ass when Pookie and Ray-Ray start throwing gang signs and hand grenades.
You’ve, no-doubt heard of the thrill of victory, and perhaps tasted the agony of defeat, but nothing will prepare your for the aroma live shot. Imagine exhaust fumes, crackhouse fire, roadkill, and stewing cabbage, and that’s in the brand new live truck. Piss off your truck-op and he’ll have you recording your voice tracks between two dumpsters of festering fish guts.
TV news aint what it once was. But with a strong stomach and a good clothes pin, you just might find the strangest job you’ll ever love . . . Just try not to look all excited around the troglodyte. It’s a dead giveaway that you’re a noob.