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Saturday, September 22, 2007

Reporters

This is Steven Petrick Posting

One of the things that must be realized is that reporters are people, and they have an agenda (beyond any that exist in a larger sense in their particular organizations). That agenda is to make a living, i.e., to get the story and get it published, to do so before anyone else, or at least not be too far behind. Not doing well at such things can result in the reporter not getting the promotion (as in any business) or even being fired if the reporter is behind the curve too often. This affects how they deal with the rest of us merely mortal beings. To the extent that empathy and even simple courtesy rapidly vanish from their dealings with the "objects" between them and "the story".

On the 12 of December in 1985 I was called to the phone by one of my NCOs. When I picked up, I found myself engaged in a conversation with a reporter on the other end of the line. This reporter wanted to interview over the phone one of the people in the gymnasium I was in.

After being repeatedly told that I was not authorized to allow that, she switched tactics and tried to interview me.

When she was told that not only was I not authorized to allow her to interview anyone in the Gym, but that I myself was not authorized to answer any of her questions.

At this point she became, not quite offensive, but definitely "snippy", finally asking, as if she believed the only response she would get would be another "I am not authorized", if there was anyone who was authorized. I responded that she should talk to the Post Public Affairs office.

This led to a moment of (apparently) stunned silence, as if she could not believe that the barrier between her and her story would actually answer any question in a manner other than "I am not authorized", and go so far as to actually suggest a course of action that she should take.

After a few seconds of silence the reporter asked if I had the number of the Public Affairs office.

My uppermost thought was that there are six Gyms on Fort Campbell, and she had found the number of this one, and she could bloody well find the number for the Public Affairs office.

Instead, I responded that if she would hold for a moment I would find the number for her. I then opened the post phone directory, found the number, and gave it to her. Because part of my job (Captain, U.S. Army) required me to mind my manners in a public forum even under considerable stress. To be cooperative where I could be, and allow others (in this case, the Public Affairs office) to do their jobs.

As soon as I had given her the number, she hung up. She did not even have the time to give even a brief moment to common courtesy and say "thanks" for my having given her the number.

All she wanted was to interview someone who was grieving the loss of spouse or relative or, in my case, friends who had been killed in a fiery plane crash at Gander, in Newfoundland, and to be the first one to get that story and air it.

I do not know what her luck was with Public Affairs, nor do I know her name, but she lived down to all my worst expectations of reporters.