Leave any pride in your work at the door
26/04/2014
The Los Angeles office of the Mail Online is a tiny bungalow-of-a-building in Venice, with only the smallest of signs – usually hidden by a few parked cars – to give any indication of its existence. Unfortunately, the fall-off in print publishing, combined with the recent mismanagement of both the Orange County Register and Los Angeles Times daily newspapers, has meant there is now an abundance of talented journalists out of work in the Los Angeles area. And the Mail Online is one of the only places that seems to regularly hire.
The stories themselves are the usual vacuous nonsense that the Mail Online hoovers up from the internet then vomits back out. You’ll routinely be expected to somehow create a 600-word article from just four photographs of Sarah Jessica Parker walking out of a Starbucks, having just bought a coffee.
Regardless of previous professional experience, everyone is stripped of any recognition, like an arriving inmate at Shawshank, and treated like the lowest form of life. All that’s missing is someone walking up and down the aisles, between the rows of desks, like in a Roman warship, whipping anyone who doesn’t type fast enough or even…talks. Oh yes, this is severely frowned upon. After a while, I realized the best way to speak with the person sitting next to me – right next to me – was to secretively slide over a piece of paper with my personal email address on it so we could then communicate in real time over email and talk about breaking news or even just the smallest of pleasantries, like how they were and perhaps even what they got up to at the weekend.
The inconspicuous offices tucked away at the corner of Rose Blvd and Hampton Drive, Venice, California
Leave any pride in your work at the door each and every day. Your stories will be edited and exclamation marks added to headlines with carefree abandon. If you’ve studied journalism and have say, more than five years professional experience, you’ll soon learn to forget everything you know and instead adopt a whole new set of standards that are more akin to a children’s book written for two year olds, by two year olds.
The “shift manager” so to speak, will keep a beady eye on goings on and less than subtly remind you to hurry up if he or she feels you haven’t written a story quick enough. Or, woe betide you, if you’re talking to anyone.
Naturally, you’re made to feel extremely guilty if you actually take an hour for lunch, instead most people nip out, grab a sandwich and return to their work station.
