What's a slot?!

Tonight, we were once again reminded that our place of employment is a … teaching publication. That is to say, it’s definitely entry-level with high turnover. The few of us there who have experience are being reminded of this more frequently every day.

In newspapers, the person who is in charge of the section is traditionally know as “the slot.” This comes from the old days of typewriters and lead type when the copy desk was arranged in a horse-shoe shape and the slot basically sat in the middle. This editor was responsible for reading all copy before it was typeset — making final edits, rewriting headlines and so on. He was the authority. He had accountability. He was the editor with the answers. With pagination and universal copy desks, the slot is usually the person who lays out the section front. I guess they aren’t teaching this stuff in school any more — especially at schools that 1) don’t have a daily paper and 2) don’t have a J-school.

When my friend and colleague asked “the kid” who was slotting, the kid said, “who’s doing what?” My only defense was to bang my head on the desk. This same youthful individual isn’t as bright as he thinks he is; he’s in over his head, and everyone in the newsroom who’s there at night can see it. Anyway, we had to explain what the term meant. “Oh, I’ve never heard that before,” he said. Gah. This same individual has a title. Yeah, it scares a lot of people, not just me.

All things being equal, this is still a better gig than my last newspaper job. Very little pressure and/or stress, at least thus far. When I saw how shitty my art was for my local page, all I could do was laugh. It was horrible. I'm sure the guy on the city desk thought I was nuts, but I might as well find humor in the stuff. Getting angry won't do any good; I don't get paid enough to let the job take that kind of an emotional toll on me. Besides, for the most part, I seem to be having fun.

Like I mentioned yesterday, the frustrating thing with this unseasoned editor is that he thinks he knows everything. He has poor news judgment and his decision-making skill are … those of a 22-year-old. He speaks without thinking, he prints things out on proof assuming people will catch them. Hey dipshit, don't proof out a page when you aren't at least 90 percent certain about the stuff that's on it. He might know the rules of grammar, but he has a lot to learn about the way newspapers work. So when you ask the opinion of someone who first worked at a newspaper in 1989, it might be a good idea to follow that advice. When your editor tells you to look for a mug shot early in the day, that clearly isn't saying "no, don't run that." It means, get on it so we don't have to scan in a shitty mug from 20 years ago at 9 p.m. Fucking open your ears and listen. I'm trying really hard to be patient, but there will come a day …

...

It's been an amazingly long time since I've wanted to write anything about work. I guess it's just the lack of anything else to write about for now. Co-worker was off today, but is back tomorrow, so I’ll have that for entertainment. The kid is off, so hip-hip-fucking-hooray. Still no word from S, but whatever. I might've liked to go to the fair, but I'll probably skip it since I don't want to go alone. I'd only be going for the food to begin with.

In other news, REI still has that cool backpack on sale, and I think I'll pick it up after I get paid. I don't trust my Eddie Bauer pack with the laptop, and the Brenthaven case is such a pain to lug around. Besides, I can stow my lunch in the REI pack. I'm tired of switching bags every few days. Yeah, I'm a retard. But my life is boring and things like this are mildly exciting. And no, I don't have some kind of sickness when it comes to backpacks, despite what you might have heard.