Someone commented on one of our stories covering Friday night’s tornadoes and severe weather.
The story was published in Wednesday’s paper and went on the Quill’s Facebook page the same day. The comment was, “Sorry but kinda late reporting.”
Ouch. I mean, I get it, but it still stings.
What the commenter doesn’t know is that wasn’t the first time the article had been written. New information was still coming out. It was the first time it made it onto The Quill’s social media, and the decision to do so was made, knowing information was still changing, because people were asking questions and this information was the best available at the time to answer those questions.
What that commenter also didn’t know is that quite a few of the Quill staff were directly affected by the storm and tornadoes and were working through exhaustion and worry.
The commenter also didn’t know that I, personally, began assembling information as soon as the sirens went off on Friday night. I immediately contacted reporters to have them gather as much information as they could and started preparing — again, on Friday night — to put together an extra section in Wednesday’s paper. I did this while also personally covering the Cystic Fibrosis Concert on Saturday night, participating in companywide meetings and planning the next month’s worth of newspaper coverage on Monday, then actually building the paper on Tuesday.
Wednesday was the only day I wasn’t actively planning coverage. That was the day I was making sure it was seen. Thursday, I was back it again. Because there are still more stories to tell. Thursday was also my birthday.
Notice all of that time was time spent on the clock. Or off the clock, even, but still working. I shouldn’t, but I do that sometimes.
I didn’t tell you about the time I spent doing cleanup of my own, or checking in with people or helping people find answers on my own time. I didn’t tell you about what I did on my own personal time.
I didn’t tell you these things, because they really don’t matter.
This is the job I signed up to do, and this is the job you trust me to do. And I love to do it. This job gives me a sense of purpose. I feel like I am doing what God has called me to do, and I am thankful every day for the opportunity.
Every day. Every easy day, every hard day, and every day in between.
I’m sorry, dear commenter, that the reporting was “kinda late,” in your estimation. I understand. And there is always, of course, room for improvement. I’d never been in a situation where I had to spring into action and cover two confirmed tornadoes in three counties before, but next time, I’lll know what to expect.
In the meantime, to everyone who has said to me in the last week, “Thank you for all that you do,” I want you to know those words are hitting me differently. In the past, I would have chalked them up to platitudes and niceties. This week, though, I think you actually mean it.
And that means a whole lot to me.
