What I do at work...

I was just sitting here, up in the press box at the Kelowna Rockets game, being tortured by the smell of chicken wings from the luxury boxes below, when I decided I'd educate ya'll on a typical day of work for me.
But, I'm too lazy to write about tonight. So here's a column I wrote last year ...


I get this question all the time... “So, just what exactly do you DO all day?”
In response to the overwhelming public demand and to dissuade any more high school counsellors from inviting me to career day, it’s time I cleared the air about what a sports reporter actually does all day.
Though some assert that a monkey with a computer could be a sports reporter, I beg to differ.
Monkeys with computers are called editors. Monkeys with tape recorders are sportswriters.
Anyways, here’s a brief look at the life of this monkey...
2:30 p.m. — Wake up for the second time, the first being three hours earlier, when you’re supposed to be at the gym living up to that New Years’ resolution.
3:30 p.m. — Go to the office. The day starts now, since most sporting events happen in the evening, and most sportswriters can’t get out of bed before then.
3:35 p.m. — Get a coke from the vending machine.
3:40 p.m. — Return to the desk, where dozens of faxes and post-it note messages marked “urgent!” await. Throw them in garbage, look for a copy of the day’s paper. Ignore the rapidly flashing voicemail button on the phone.
3:41 p.m. — Realize the word “Rockets” is spelled “Rokets” in 110-point type on the front page of the sports section. The flashing voicemail light suddenly takes on a more sinister appearance.
3:44 p.m. — Listen to a lecture on the merits of spellchecking a page from our illustrious editor-in-chief/former high school gym teacher, Ross Freake.
4:44 p.m. — The lecture ends – finally. Time to face the voicemail... “You have 152 messages.” Ninety-eight of them point out “Rokets” is not the correct spelling of the local hockey team. Another 54 are requests for coverage from the groups like the Okanagan kindergarten school curling/competitive crocheting league.
6:30 p.m. — Get a coke from the vending machine. Call mom.
6:40 p.m. — Engage in a debate about the merits of changing the name of Prince George’s WHL franchise to the “Spruce Kings.” Since it would therefore be the same as the P.G. BCHL team, certain members of the sports department wouldn’t be wrong every time a headline reads “Rokets claw Spruce Kings.”
7:00 p.m. — Take dinner break. Get a coke from the vending machine.
8:30 p.m. — Copy a couple stories from Sports Illustrated, change the names to make it local. Insert quotes from interview with local athlete the day before... or, at least, what you THINK they said.
10:00 p.m. — Realize deadline is a half-hour away. Panic. Get a coke from the vending machine.
10:05 p.m. — Hopped up on caffeine, lay out six sports pages in 12 minutes. Misspell “Rockets” four different ways.
10:18 p.m. — Print out pages to proof. Spill coke on said pages, think “heck — what could be wrong with it?” and send them to the production guys.
10:30 p.m. — Listen to a lecture on the merits of spellchecking a page from Dwayne, the sour-faced production manager, who points out “Rockets” is mispelled 16 different ways. Make changes, re-send page.
10:40 p.m. — Get a coke from the vending machine. Call mom.
11:00 p.m. — Surf the net for various sports sites. Somehow, you accidentally stumble upon the site “hornyhousewives.com,” while looking for NHL.com.
1:30 a.m. — Leave office, head home. Engage roommate in marathon battle of Madden 2004. Loser does the dishes, which have developed sentience after festering in sink for three months.
4:00 a.m. — Fight off dishes with broom, go to sleep. Dream of NFL cheerleaders who can spell “Rockets” correctly.
So now you know. No more questions, please.