I was a press officer at the Department of Commerce.
I wrote news releases. I took old stories and updated the figures.
I also did the clips. I read seven newspapers from around the state.
I got where I could predict which paper would run a story where,
and for how long, before they killed it. News was manufactured.
Like the weather at a TV station. Think of Herblock’s cartoon
of Nixon crawling out of a sewer. Think of Hearst’s Westbrook Pegler.
You pays your money and you makes your choice. You can have any flavor.
This was a good job but the old rollback got me. Manfred gave notice to take
another job downstate. Our boss hired a replacement for him. Then his new job
fell through and he asked for his old job back. Our boss now had three people
and two slots. He could let me go for any reason or none. I was on probation.
He let me go. It was the easiest for all concerned. “It’s not the easiest for me,”
I said. “I didn’t quit my job and move here at my own expense for six month’s work.
This job was supposed to be permanent. If you let me go I will be damaged goods.”
I couldn’t file a grievance. I wasn’t a permanent employee yet.
I wrote one anyway. I turned it in.
I cut off my nose to spite my face.
I was blacklisted as a troublemaker.
I would never write a book
on company time again.
Well, maybe one or two.
I had learned my lesson
but I forgot it.