Now Feel This …

Now Feel This …

The other day I was at my cube watching an interaction between a reporter and her editor. I hear her a lot – her voice carries throughout our side of the floor and she talks with her interview subjects, politely, yet says things like, “OK, LOVE, THANK YOU SO MUCH. I WILL, LOVE, AND HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY TO YOU. I’M SURE YOU HAVE LOVELY PLANS PLANNED WITH YOUR WIFE.” I’m writing in caps because she IS SO LOUD. It makes my stomach hurt at her flourish, yet, she is one of the best reporters here. She’s also middle-aged and very plain-looking and likes to give out chocolates to everyone randomly. Her voice, however, is the butt of many office jokes and complaints.

Anyway. Her editor sits near me and she often comes over to ping pong ideas off of him and pace around and talk about her beat, which is securities. Usually I ignore their exchanges, only hearing voice, without actual words, but for some reason I listened and watched yesterday. There she is, bulky sweater, fat face and greasy salt and pepper short hair, clutching her coffee cup, standing behind her white middle aged male editor. He’s at his computer and they are talking.

At some point, he stops talking and she just continues. She asks him if she could cover a court case related to one of her stories and you know, be a court reporter. She used to be a court reporter, did he know that? Could she cover it? Silence. I mean, don’t you think it would be a good idea to cover it?

Her words topple out of her mouth …

Can I? What do you think? Can I? He’s shifting in his seat a bit, but his back is to her now and he’s not saying one word. Not, no, we don’t have the money. Not, no, it’s extraneous coverage. Not, no, you have other responsibilities. Nothing. Just total disengagement. She mumbles to herself, I guess not, after standing there for multiple moments waiting for him to answer her.

My stomach sank and I just drank my coffee.