JOURNALISTS getting bad press has a sense of irony to it.
Or does it?
I blame Alanis Morissette for confusing me on that one.
But we’ll leave the spoons, knife and fly swimming in Chardonnay for now.
I guess what I am trying to say is that bad reporters making the news was the result of good journalism.
And that has a bit of a sting in it.
Especially when the whole industry gets tarred with the same brush.
If that wasn’t enough, this week reporting has been voted the worst job of 2013.
Just below being a lumberjack – perhaps CareerCast.com, which compiled the list, haven’t heard the Monty Python song.
Or they don’t like plaid shirts and dungarees.
Yes, I am biased.
But it makes me giggle that I get to write about journalism apparently being the worst job – and enjoy doing so.
Don’t get me wrong, the day job isn’t like an episode of Ugly Betty, all glass desks, high heels and jetting off to glamorous locations.
In fact I’ll confess that sometimes, when I am sitting in a fort made of proof reading, I don’t even go outside.
And I can’t argue with the reasons the survey lists, like long hours, low pay and high stress.
But – and that is a but Jennifer Lopez would be jealous of – I love it.
Which, on its own, more than makes up for the negatives. Then there is the fact I still get a buzz when I see my name in print.
The way the next phone call or email could lead me on an adventure. Armed only with trusty notepad and pen – no two days are the same.
I feel privileged to meet the people I meet and get to share their stories.
And when that happens, I can’t say it feels like ‘work’.
In fact half of me still expects someone to come in and say I’ve been busted and have to go get a proper job.
But until they do, I’m sticking with it.