The JOB

This entry was lifted from my wordpress blog, which had been freely accessible to my desk editors.  However, I found it necessary to re-post it here--probably to remind myself that I am an online journalist or probably because I have no other available topic in mind.

 

Originally written on April 3, barely a month before my first anniversary at INQUIRER.net.

 

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Writing for a news wire is indeed rewarding, but could also be annoying sometimes. For almost a year that I have been covering for INQUIRER.net, I realized that being a reporter, more so a wire reporter, is truly challenging.

 

Challenging it is that I have to get the story first, I have to get it right, and I have to be accurate as much as possible. The slightest error–like a misspelled nickname–means losing much credibility for my usually hard-earned story, and worse, a string of sermon from my editors.

 

Barely two months before graduation and I haven’t even finished my thesis at the time, I applied at then INQ7. net, where I was an intern a year before. Armed with optimism, confidence, idealism, and much passion to bring stories to the readers, I started my job on May 1, exactly two days after I marched at the UPLB Freedom Park grounds. And yes, that was May 1, Labor Day, and rallies were everywhere. My first was a double-pay day and needless to say, that was more than enough to make me happy.

 

But then, I did not aspire to become a journalist because of money. I wanted to be a journalist because I felt the need to be one. This is a very noble career.  But this job, as my disillusioned colleagues would say, is a thankless job, an occupation that would probably be not enough to keep one going if there is a family to feed. I am lucky, however, that my present employer is generous enough.

 

Oh, how excited I was when my editor told me to stake-out at former President Joseph Estrada’s Polk St. residence last May. Wow, I would be covering Erap two weeks after I was hired! I was so amazed that I was actually interacting with people I just watched in news programs (Dan Campilan, who now rests in peace, was one of my companions in this 2-day Estrada coverage), and that I was already interviewing people who have been in politics even before I was born! But the euphoria, as expected, would eventually subside.

 

News writing has since been ‘normal’ for me. Attending press conferences and running after sources were suddenly just part of the routine. The dream became a routine. The glory of the by-line, however, remains especially because I’m in an ‘intangible medium’—the internet. hehe

 

The once giddy, star-struck cub reporter, somehow lost the excitement of meeting popular people. I felt that the calling for the job was more than just getting humdrum and hypocritical quotes from people in power. My growing interest for the poor was further nourished with my continued rally coverages. Never mind the heat, the unfilled stomach. Feeling dust from the grubby streets of Mendiola became something to be proud of.

 

I am currently covering Camp Crame, which houses the National Police Headquarters. Seeing dead people (literally) and raiding drug dens have been part of my routine. Talking to generals (and stealing documents afterwards hehe), and meeting suspects comprise my usually colorful day.

Until tomorrow our dearest readers. J There would be another story to tell.

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Post script:

I'm afraid I want a new beat soon. Crame has turned into a dead beat these past few days. After all, I've been here for 1 year and 3 months.