Grring about the local press
Oct. 6th, 2006 04:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladyofastolatWhy is it so totally impossible to get the local press to tell you if they plan to come to an event, or not? You send out the press release, they receive it... and then you wait. You start the event. All the time, you have one eye on the door, in a mix of nervousness, resignation, and hope. Will they come? Do you dare tell the people at the event that the press might be coming? The minutes tick by. The event finishes. People go home. Okay, then. Another one they've decided not to bother coming to.
Sometimes they do come, but early. I once was running a children's prize-giving, and the photographer strolled up ten minutes before the start time, and insisting on taking a picture immediately. No, he couldn't wait - he was in a rush. So some poor prize-winners were missed out of the photo just because they hadn't arrived yet.
Sometimes they waltz up half way through an event, and proceed to ruin in. They spurn what you're doing, even if you think it's beautifully photogenic, and proceed to stomp around grabbing your public away from the event, and getting them to pose in artificial ways, thus interrupting the event, and producing a photo that doesn't represent what's happening, anyway.
Sometimes they arrive unasked and unannounced, at routine events that you deliberately didn't bother telling the press about. This is particularly vexing if it's an event at which children are left by their parents for the duration. You need parental permission before photographing children, so you have to know in advance that a photographer is coming, so you can get all the parents to sign permission forms before leaving. It really doesn't help anyone if a photographer pops up half way through, and wants to take pictures of the children.
And sometimes, like today, they don't come at all. They had jolly well better come tomorrow, though, or fourteen proud prize-winners will be very disappointed.
To add insult to injury, on the way back from today's failed appearance by the press, I stopped off to buy lunch. I told them not to bother with a bag, and walked out with some lunch items balanced on the local paper. As I reached my car, a gust of wind took the paper, and hurled all my lunch into the air. It landed in one large puddle, and my car keys landed in another. I had to wade into the puddles to get them out, getting my feet and the hem of my (long) skirt drenched in the process. By then I was so confused and flustered that I tried to get into the wrong car.
Stupid newspaper. *grumbles*
Sometimes they do come, but early. I once was running a children's prize-giving, and the photographer strolled up ten minutes before the start time, and insisting on taking a picture immediately. No, he couldn't wait - he was in a rush. So some poor prize-winners were missed out of the photo just because they hadn't arrived yet.
Sometimes they waltz up half way through an event, and proceed to ruin in. They spurn what you're doing, even if you think it's beautifully photogenic, and proceed to stomp around grabbing your public away from the event, and getting them to pose in artificial ways, thus interrupting the event, and producing a photo that doesn't represent what's happening, anyway.
Sometimes they arrive unasked and unannounced, at routine events that you deliberately didn't bother telling the press about. This is particularly vexing if it's an event at which children are left by their parents for the duration. You need parental permission before photographing children, so you have to know in advance that a photographer is coming, so you can get all the parents to sign permission forms before leaving. It really doesn't help anyone if a photographer pops up half way through, and wants to take pictures of the children.
And sometimes, like today, they don't come at all. They had jolly well better come tomorrow, though, or fourteen proud prize-winners will be very disappointed.
To add insult to injury, on the way back from today's failed appearance by the press, I stopped off to buy lunch. I told them not to bother with a bag, and walked out with some lunch items balanced on the local paper. As I reached my car, a gust of wind took the paper, and hurled all my lunch into the air. It landed in one large puddle, and my car keys landed in another. I had to wade into the puddles to get them out, getting my feet and the hem of my (long) skirt drenched in the process. By then I was so confused and flustered that I tried to get into the wrong car.
Stupid newspaper. *grumbles*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 04:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 04:29 pm (UTC)I almost posted last week about the horrible sneeriness that the press has to... well, pretty much everyone. Everything I do is sneered at routinely (folk music, Morris dancing, fandoms, role-playing) but I've come to notice that anyone who is interested and enthusiastic about anything gets a sneery write-up in the press, with a strong "aren't they sad?" message to them. I really wish they wouldn't.
And thanks for the otter :-)
no subject
Date: 2006-10-09 10:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-10 06:47 am (UTC)I've several times encountered people at work who have attempted the "sad" line with me regarding Morris dancing, role playing etc. I have usually launched into a few minutes of explanation of just what we do and why I like it. "Oh," they say, in the end. "I never realised it was like that. That does sound quite interesting, actually." If only the media allowed us those few minutes...
no subject
Date: 2006-10-06 04:21 pm (UTC)