A few months ago I wrote a short post about my sister having surgery and some other things behind the scenes in my life I wasn't ready to talk about yet. My sister's surgery went very well.
The other things...not so much.
In sixth grade I won a contest in my English class for a story I wrote called Guinea Pig Island. My English teacher made little medals for all the winners and I still have mine stashed away somewhere. My mom was so proud of me and suggested I think about writing for a living. I told her I couldn't write very long and books were very long. She said that in journalism you could write stuff of lots of different lengths.
And it was in that moment in the car with my mom on the way home fr swim practice at the tender age of 12 that I decided what I wanted to do with my life.
I had no idea what a journalist was at the time. I guess I knew they wrote, but I didn't know for who. As I got older I started equating journalism with newspapers. And in my small town in northwest Ohio there is one newspaper so I decided I'd make it my life's goal to work there.
Fast forward ten years and I am sitting in the interviewing room of said newspaper extremely confident in myself. Between freshman and sophomore year of college I spent my summer interning at the newspaper and continuing working for them as an independent contractor since then. I got an email from the head editor saying there was a job opening up toward the end of November and with myself graduating at the beginning of December it was perfect timing.
The job description fit me to a tee. It asked for someone who could shoot photos and videos (exactly what I did during my internship at the paper), write (duh, went to college for it and wrote/became editor of my school's newspaper) and knew the area well because they'd be reporting on education. I grew up here thus I went to school here as know my way around each school well.
Shoe in, right?
Well I didn't get it. I have no idea what the guy who did get it had over me, but I was bummed. There were no tears, just pure disappointment and doubt. If I couldn't land this job, in which I nailed all the requirements and had already had experience with, what job could I land?
Fast forward to three weeks ago, the Monday before thanksgiving. It had been a few days since The Call in which I received the bad news. I got and email from the editor saying the paper needed help in the mailroom stuffing all the Black Friday ads into the newspaper during third shift from 11 pm to 6 am. I figured it'd look good if I went so I did and it ended up being a fun night. I got to know some employees I hadn't met yet and worked with the newspaper's publisher as well. Brown nosing? Maybe. Awesome networking opportunity? Yes.
The following Monday I got an email from the editor saying my name had been brought up at a meeting noting my good work in the mail room.
Two days later I got another email asking if I could start Saturday as the Saturday Reporter for the paper.
And just like that, I am (part-time) employed!