Hey, it's a living

I got a new job this week. No, I'm not leaving the full time job I love so much, just replacing the freelance gig I lost last September when the residential building industry led to my column's demise. (I need the money as my 17-year old daughter has chosen the most expensive college on the planet to study art!!!) For three short years, I was the columnist I had always wanted to be . . . well sort of. I wasn't exactly writing the prose I had envisioned. In fact, I wasn't doing much writing at all -- merely reporting the facts, ma'am, on new residential developments then trying to add a little personality in 20 words or less. "You don't have to sit side saddle on the toilet, like you do in my house. . . '' Nevertheless, people surprisingly recognized me from that tiny one-inch picture that appeared on the cover of the Detroit Free Press real estate section every Sunday. Okay, it was only two people in three years (and I think one of them heard somebody say my name out loud), but still . . . 

So, about this new job.

As part of the interview process, I was asked to write a simple story on how to walk properly. Who'd a thunk it? There are people out there who really need instructions on how to walk properly. (Part II: How to walk and chew gum at the same time.)  Hey, a few years back, I was assigned a story about toe fungus. I think that was an all-time low point for me. That's a long way from my participation in the death vigil of Liberace or my near-death experience with a sharp shooter when I refused to stay back as then Vice President George Bush boarded his private plane at Palm Springs Airport. It was 7 a.m., my editor was waiting for a story and because he scared the crap out of me, I wasn't about to let him down. Two TV reporters had been given permission to move toward the plane. Not fair, I said, as I darted in the same direction. When I got to the steps of the plane, everybody was looking at me, so I took advantage of the silence and asked the VP the first thing that came to mind . . . "Uh, how was your weekend?'' I can't recall his answer, but since it was the only question he answered before boarding the plane, I got an entire front page story out of it. (And an offer to have dinner with the sharp shooter on the roof who said he had his "sights" on my back side.)

So anyway, after several days of pondering the notion of writing this walking story -- me, a 20+ year journalist having to take a writing test -- I decided to give it a shot. With a bit of sarcastic humor (an excuse I could use later should I get rejected) and that damn Abominable Snowman song playing over and over and over in my head (Put one foot in front of the other . . . ), I did some quick research and began amusing myself with tips on how to step, move forward and swing your arms just so.

I was pretty happy with the final piece. Apparently, my new editors were, too. In fact, they told me during our face to face interview that they liked my humor and could use more of it. Just as I received my first assignment, I was reminded that I would be writing at a sixth grade level. Was I just complimented or insulted?

Without revealing the source of my ghost writing, I'll give you a hint. If you're sitting in your company break room next year and happen to see a poster on the wall with great tips on how to walk properly, you'll know where it came from.

Hey, it's a living!