The latest
I'm working on a story about a student who crashed on Highway 407 in February. The car was totalled, a number of safety barrels were damaged and she suffered injuries she's still getting physio for. Her dad - the registered owner of the vehicle - got a bill for more than $20,000.
I called her up and she gave me to her dad. For whatever reason, she wasn't comfortable talking to the press. Fair enough. He got the bill, he looked into it, he owned the car. The story is about the bill. I didn't push. I got what I needed from the dad, who was very nice and very helpful.
My editor wants me to get the student to talk. To push her to, if need be.
I can see her point. We are a college paper. We do need to hear from the student. I get it. But I still don't like it. And she could tell. She pointed out that as a reporter I will have to push people who don't want to talk. She told me about another student who was interning at one of the major dailies. This student was told to go get people to talk to her about the death of a little kid. At the kid's funeral.
My disgust was probably clear on my face, because my editor stressed that I had to get over the idea that I was doing something wrong. She had felt like slime in my place last year. But after you do it a couple times, you get used to it.
What I didn't say was that's what I'm afraid of.
I called her up and she gave me to her dad. For whatever reason, she wasn't comfortable talking to the press. Fair enough. He got the bill, he looked into it, he owned the car. The story is about the bill. I didn't push. I got what I needed from the dad, who was very nice and very helpful.
My editor wants me to get the student to talk. To push her to, if need be.
I can see her point. We are a college paper. We do need to hear from the student. I get it. But I still don't like it. And she could tell. She pointed out that as a reporter I will have to push people who don't want to talk. She told me about another student who was interning at one of the major dailies. This student was told to go get people to talk to her about the death of a little kid. At the kid's funeral.
My disgust was probably clear on my face, because my editor stressed that I had to get over the idea that I was doing something wrong. She had felt like slime in my place last year. But after you do it a couple times, you get used to it.
What I didn't say was that's what I'm afraid of.
