Top Ten Report Memories . . . the First Three

Allow me to share some of the most memorable moments (in my view) at the Report Newsmagazine. Only then will you understand why I loved working where I did . . .

10. The Organization of the Library

At one point pretty much everyone was laid off. I was a little bit emotional until I scored a job back in the "library." The pay was minimal and the work was not difficult: I ran to the public library to steal photos for various articles, transferred the text from each issue onto a database, and sprinted to the bathroom whenever the phone rang so as to avoid customer requests. I was made for this job!

Now, I was also given the task of organizing the collection of books that had amassed through the years. I divided said books into two basic categories: "worthy of the nicer white shelf" and "boring." Untouched books of poetry that had been sent to the Report and anything resembling literature were deemed "worthy." Anything to do with politics was deemed dry and slotted to the lower shelves of the ugly bookshelf. Average material was relegated to the central shelves. The books generally went from tall to short, or were grouped by colour. How pretty they looked!

Now, imagine my pride when Paul Bunner came over and asked for a book on Diefenbaker. I didn't say, "Now that is boring." Rather, I said, "Right there on the bottom shelf. No, a little lower. Right on the bottom."

I knew exactly where every book on those shelves was located. My sorting strategy was flawless.

However, Paul Bunner scratched his head. "Ì don`t quite understand how you`ve organized these," he said. He wasn`t upset--just a little puzzled.

I learned, that day, that sometimes people don`t think like I do. No wonder their lives are so chaotic.


9. The Drama Between the Receptionist and the Telemarketing Department

I was fond of our receptionist, Cheryl. She had a good heart and an equally good work ethic. When I left the magazine she gave me a present full of dozens of little gifts with notes, and I appreciated the gesture.

However, Cheryl had a weakness for men. She had broken up with her ex, who was living in a tent by the river with his new girlfriend. No more would this brave hunter carve up deer in her hallway (yes, I`m serious). At any rate, Cheryl had her eye on someone special, a handsome young telemarketer I will call "Frank." Frank had muscles, and a tan, and a pleasant face to look upon.

Frank was not my type, but . . . oh my gosh . . . when he sauntered by to use the facilities, Cheryl`s heart would swoon.

"Do you think he noticed me?`` she would say, and there was only one answer she`d hear.

The one problem was that Frank already had a girlfriend, one he`d committed to in a long-term relationship.

"What a b----!" Cheryl would say, her eyes aflame. "Who does she think she is?"

Then she`d embrace hope once again. "Do you think Frank would like a chocolate for Valentine`s?"

"Oh, boy," I`d reply. "I hear `Mark` Byfield is single."

Cheryl never won the heart of Frank, though she did her hair and make-up with fervour. Poor, dear, Cheryl. I hope you`ve since found a Larry, or a Zane, or a Michael to call your own.


8. The Wolf Posters

Now, there`s nothing like a special promotion to get subscribers excited. And readers of the Report were deemed worthy of only the best. For a limited time, those lucky enough to renew their subscriptions or to subscribe for the first time were given . . . get this . . . a wolf poster. Yup. I would have subscribed in a second if my pay as a librarian had allowed any purchases other than food and water and a roof over my head.

At any rate, a few hundred of these beautiful limited edition posters were left over (though the sales department phoned their little hearts out, bless their souls!). I decided that the office needed dressing up. Something classy, of course. So I put a poster on every door. EVERY door (except for Link Byfield`s office, that is).

The office looked beautiful--though perhaps not to Little Red Riding Hood`s standards. However, I had not foreseen some of the difficulties wolf posters would pose.

"Where`s the men`s washroom?" a guest might ask.

"Second wolf to the left," I would reply.

One day, to my horror, the wolves were gone . . . but their memory lives on.