JerseyShoreMoms.com header

Diaper Diva

This site is not just for mothers of infants and toddlers who live at the Jersey Shore but for all moms who want to share their wisdom and silly stories or ask questions about raising young children. New blogs will be posted weekdays during naptime.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

A Dozen Drunks and a Notebook

There's nothing like a couple of drunks to get a reporter back into the swing of things.

I was a bit shaky during my first week on the job. I stuck close to my desk for the first two days, but today I had to venture out and conduct interviews. I must have been more nervous than I thought because I couldn't even remember the newspaper's address or my new phone extension when I had to fill out an information request form at borough hall. And I stuttered a few times when I had to ask a bar owner why he was selling his business.

Something funny happens to people when they stay away too long. They lose their edge.

It made me wonder how an athlete who easily does back flips off the high dive day after day must feel after a long absence. What happens when he tries to climb that ladder again? Do his knees get weak, standing at the edge of that diving board and looking down at the pool? Does he wonder if he still has what it takes to soar gracefully through the air and pierce the surface of the water with barely a splash?

Sometimes you just have to throw yourself in the water if you're going to conquer that fear.

I started to get my nerve back when I wandered over to a group of older men drinking at the bar in the middle of the afternoon. They tried to give me a hard time by making comments and not giving their names, and I shot back by asking to see their driver's license. They liked my tenacity - and my smile. (Everyone looks better with booze.)

I was starting to feel like my old self again but was still unsure that I would ever have the confidence I once possessed. Then the bartender, who served himself just as many beers as his customers, asked me what size my breasts are. Unfazed, I shot him a piercing look that let him know he crossed the line.

"That's it,'' I said with a wry smile. "I'm done."

I closed my notebook and walked away.

A journalist can never lose her composure. She can't be rattled because someone said something that wasn't nice. When I got back into my car, I laughed. When I got back to the office and told my husband, he laughed even harder.

Everything about my job, my marriage and myself is just as it ever was.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home

Partners: Jobs: CareerBuilder.comCars: Cars.comApartments: Apartments.comShopping: ShopLocal.com

Copyright © 2007 Asbury Park Press. All rights reserved.
Use of this site signifies your agreement to the Terms of Service and Privacy Policy. (Updated June 7, 2005)
Site design by Asbury Park Press / Contact us

USA TodayUSA WeekendGannett Co. Inc.Gannett Foundation