A Conversation with the ND

"Do you have a minute?" I asked my news director.

I went in early yesterday just to talk to him about Sarah's meltdown Tuesday night. I had collected and organized my thoughts, and I was ready to present my case. Or so I thought.

"Yeah, come on in," he said. "I wanted to talk to you, too. Let me shut this door."

Hmm. I wonder what HE wants to talk about.

"So," he said. "Tell me what happened last night."

"Oh, you already knew about it?"

"Yeah, Sarah came in this morning to talk to me about it. She says you were refusing to do the story?"

Oh! Bitch! What a fucking bitch! I hate starting out on the defensive, especially when I'm furious. And hearing that had instantly infuriated me.

"That's not exactly the way it happened," I said through my teeth.

"Well, I've heard Sarah's version," he said. "So why don't you tell me how you saw it."

"Lemme back up a little to give you some background," I said. Then I just poured several weeks of frustration all across his desk. I talked about her problems with deadlines. I talked about her bad attitude and foul language. I even mentioned the garbage in the truck. THEN I started on Tuesday night and told the whole story, pretty much the way I wrote it here (leaving out the happy ending, of course).

"Okay, first things first," he said when I wound down. "I can't have a photographer refusing to do a story, no matter what the circumstances. I don't care how much she pisses you off, that's not your call to make."

"I didn't actually refuse--" I started, but he waved his hand at me to stop me.

"I'll say it again," he said. "That's not your place to make that decision. Understood?"

"Okay," I said. That's bullshit, I thought, but what else can I say?

"Now, as for Sarah, you're not telling me anything I haven't already heard. Wendy's been in here half a dozen times already," he said, rolling his eyes involuntarily, "and Dax has made some of the exact same complaints you have." (Dax is the photographer who works with Sarah Thursday and Friday nights, when I'm off.) "Now I can't have either one of you refusing to work with her, so you're both gonna have to put up with it until I can work something out."

"Okay," I said. "What can you do about it?"

"I already talked to her this morning. She has some things going on right now that make things kinda rough on her, so I want you guys to give her a chance. She promised me she was going to try to do better. But you let me know if she pulls anything like last night again. You don't refuse to do the story, but you call me right then and put her on the phone with me, and I'll straighten her out."

It was difficult not to grin. I shouldn't smile at others' misfortune.

"Okay," I said.

"Good," he said. "Anything else going on I should know about?"

"Uh, no," I said.

My immediate thoughts went to my budding romance with Lynn, but that's certainly none of his business. Lynn and I talked about it a bit this morning and decided that it would be best to keep this thing out of the rumor mill as much as possible. There have already been snickers and snide comments about our carpooling situation, but we both agreed it would be better to keep everybody guessing.

I was hoping I might get to stay over there again last night, or at least hang out for a while, but Lynn turned me away at the door. Don't get me wrong, she was very friendly. She apparently just wants to set some limits.

"You're not coming in," she said. "We're not gonna jump into a routine where you're staying over here every night."

Instead, we just made out against the doorframe for ten minutes until she finally just said, "Go! GO!" and pushed me off the porch.

That's okay. I'm not desperate. Really. I'm not. Not at all.