If you have ever thought what the words SHIT OF A DAY really mean, then ask me. I know the feeling.
Oh, sure it begins like any other day, but it fails to end that way.
First thing was the Internet connection getting out of whack even before I walked into the office. Of course, I needed to look up stuff before news production could commence. There was just no way.
All the while, the IT was getting whacks at the internet connection thingies, hoping it would work. It did not.
Someone had gone to a cybercafe and only returned forty minutes before the bulletin was to go out. I had forty minutes to produce an entire fifteen-minute bulletin from scratch. It was not going to be easy.
Ten minutes to air time, a consultant begins to seek my attention, and then the IT guy calls me over. What else to say but to give me a few moments to finish and then be right there with them?
Not so? Instead I got the short shrift. Military routine--WHEN I SAY JUMP, YOU SAY "HOW HIGH?"--would have been a kinder description. No, sirree. I was described as RUDE, INSUBORDINATE.
Of course, there was the last-moment admission that I knew my job, but not before perspicacious questions like DO YOU THINK YOU KNOW YOUR JOB? I said yes, I did.
SO KNOWING YOUR JOB DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO BE RUDE TO PEOPLE.
Rude to people? Geez! I don't even want to talk to people let alone be rude to them. If everyone just sat in their seats and went up to Valhalla, it wouldn't matter a row of beans to me.
Just in the thick of a deep-shit production, I get told, THIS BULLETIN HAS FAILED.
I look at the time display on my cellphone and say, NO IT HASN'T, only to be told looking at my phone was rude.
Evidently, placing a palm on the table was rude too, as was bracing one foot in front of the other.
No one told me I was getting employed in a military regiment when I moved to take the job.
And then I get asked, HOW OLD ARE YOU?
It is the most unlikely question? Now if that is not inviting rudeness. I want to ask, WHAT HAS THAT GOT TO DO WITH ANYTHING? That would have been ruder than rude, so I keep silent.
But I am again bluntly reminded it is rude to keep silent when asked a question. I keeping silent because it would have been super-rude to say what was on the tip of my tongue.
Anyway, newsrooms are that way, pressure cookers of all kinds. These things happen all the time, and then they blow over once production is done and the news is going out on air or has just gone out on air. In newspapers, all the madness becomes a happy hour once the paper goes to bed.
These things happen. Kuchh kuchh hota hai. That's Hindi for SHIT HAPPENS.