The internet’s been pretty tough on journalism. It’s not just eviscerating the business model that keeps us all fed and clothed. No. It’s got to make the experience of watching unemployment skulk closer and closer as uncomfortable and unnerving as possible. For instance: Since the internet came along, journalists can’t get away with pulling fiction out of their assess and passing it off as fact, because the Google is always there to tattle on you. You can’t blog at work, or blog about work. Ditto for posting photos of whatever happened last Saturday night.
And now here’s the latest, most indignantest indignity: Journalists, apparently, can’t even go out on assignment and shop for handbags and sunglasses while they’re supposed to be working without getting nailed for it. Nailed for it on the internet for all eternity!
Today’s case study in the internet ruining everything is Harvard Crimson reporter Nan Ni. She attended a meeting in Brighton a couple weeks ago and wrote about it. That’s where the plot line should end. But it didn’t, obvs.
Her story was, from the looks of things, something of a disaster. Something tells me that her experience searching for a job will be, too. Why? Because somebody at the meeting has a blog.
With all that openly expressed opposition to how BC is dealing with the neighborhood, how could the Crimson reporter not catch a single piece of that information that was contradictory to her story’s thesis?
The answer is simple: Ni was busy throughout the meeting shopping on the internet with her laptop computer.
I know. I sat directly behind her. I watched her screen over her shoulder as she shopped. I didn’t realize she was a reporter until after the meeting — when I saw her walk out to meet with Keady and briefly overheard their conversation in the parking lot as I got in my car. The web surfing was distracting and amusing… although I still managed to ask a few questions and take pages of notes.
During the meeting Ni shopped for handbags, sunglasses, skirts, and tops. I didn’t see her make any actual purchases, but neither did I see her take any notes of what was going on at the meeting. The handbags she was looking at appeared to be quite fancy, at least relative to my frugal preferences. And the skirts and tops appear to be very cute, too; she seems to have a nice, albeit expensive, taste in clothing and accessories.
Let this be a lesson to you J-school kids out there: There’s this thing called the back row. That’s where you go when you don’t want anybody to see you not paying attention to whatever you should be paying attention to, but are too busy shopping. The most magical part about this back row thing? If the meeting really sucks, you can skip out early.
I would mention that I was also at this meeting for a story about BC’s expansion that will run in the June issue of Boston magazine. But that would be blogging about work. And we all know how well that plays with bosses with internet access.