The light at the end of the tunnel
Tonight marks my last night in the office at The Voice. Ever. I could dance with glee. In honor of the occation,
Last week since we had an early issue because of Easter weekend, I wasn't able to come into the office because I had a night class. So the managing editor kindly offered to put my pages together for me. Score one Voice-free night!
I swung by the office after class to find that the Editor in Chief (who, might I add, never did news until this semster and got dragooned from the damn features section before taking office) put her story about a mock crime scene that one of the forensics profs staged. Not a week after the unfortunate Garrett Jay was discovered and identified, my brilliant EIC splashed a particularly lurid (and not very well designed) photospread of fake dead bodies all over the front page. How sensitive.
This is just a tiny taste of the wonderful incompetence of my fine fellow staff members. Hell, not just the staff, the editorial board too.
Fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, fuck you, I'm out.
Last week since we had an early issue because of Easter weekend, I wasn't able to come into the office because I had a night class. So the managing editor kindly offered to put my pages together for me. Score one Voice-free night!
I swung by the office after class to find that the Editor in Chief (who, might I add, never did news until this semster and got dragooned from the damn features section before taking office) put her story about a mock crime scene that one of the forensics profs staged. Not a week after the unfortunate Garrett Jay was discovered and identified, my brilliant EIC splashed a particularly lurid (and not very well designed) photospread of fake dead bodies all over the front page. How sensitive.
This is just a tiny taste of the wonderful incompetence of my fine fellow staff members. Hell, not just the staff, the editorial board too.
Fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, fuck you, I'm out.