I'll let you in on a secret: We journalists are an odd lot.
Maybe it's because we're trained to look at everything with a skeptical eye, or because we have to develop strangely thick skins, or perhaps it's just that this profession attracts a special kind of person, but my colleagues, both here in Chattanooga and in other places I've worked, are unlike most other people I've known.
Case in point: We can get a kick out of being criticized. And the more ridiculous the critique, the better it is. Oh, we appreciate the kind words as well; don't get me wrong. Receiving a call or email from someone offering support or saying thanks for what we do can make my day. But when I need a laugh, sometimes there's nothing better than a well-timed rant.
I actually found myself having earned a place in the Sunday Rant section this past week. This column was referred to as nauseatingly self-indulgent and a series of navel-gazing sessions. The great thing is, since I was away for the weekend, I never would have known about it had I not received several emails offering encouragement. How I appreciate the lovely, lovely people who took time to contact me and show their support. However, I still couldn't help but laugh at the rant itself.
It takes a while to develop that sort of slightly sick, reporter sense of humor. I cut my journalistic teeth in college, and let's just say I didn't take too kindly to criticism at first.
A snide letter was sent once in response to an article I'd written, and when I was introduced to a professor who oversaw the academic honor society I had lambasted, I greeted him with a less than polite "you're the one who sicced your little honors forum minion on me."
What can I say; I was young and green.
Several years later, a play review I wrote was referred to on the Chicago Tribune website, in response to that paper's critic's review of the same play. "Someone please have a counseling session with Holly Leber ..." a comment read.
I laughed. "Yes!" I exclaimed, forbidden exclamation point and all. "Now I'm officially a journalist."
Like I said, we're a strange lot.
Sure, some things are still upsetting. There are personal attacks that cross lines. Often, our integrity is called into question. What bothers me most is when somebody criticizes me for excluding information that actually was present, or for one-sourcing a story that had multiple sources. Say what you will about my work, but read it first, please.
For the most part, you learn to let the stupid comments roll off your back. You learn to laugh about it. You know that saying about laughter being the best medicine? I think it's really true. Imagine how miserable we could be if we couldn't laugh at ourselves and at others. I don't mean in a cruel way, for the most part. Just in a way that finds the humor in the inanity of it all. And so we journalists learn to laugh at things that would make others cringe.
If you want a great example, just look to cartoonist Clay Bennett, who labels being referred to by Bill O'Reilly as a "pinhead" as "The Proud Moment." Clay has told me about a few choice pieces of feedback that cannot be repeated in the pages of this newspaper. In a weird way, that's how we earn our stripes.
But we also earn them by the kindnesses people offer and by the legitimate critiques. It gives us room to grow. And sure, I'm not going to dignify crass commentary or requests for clippings of articles related to Taylor Swift (yes, that really happened) with a response, other than laughter (and, yes, cringing at that Taylor one), but there are some thoughtful comments, both positive and negative, that have actually been very helpful.
On this note, could the person who has been mailing me clippings of my stories, decorated with strange highlight marks and hieroglyphics, please identify yourself? Maybe give me a call, or send an email. I'd actually like to know what you're talking about, what your critiques or questions are, beyond emphasizing words like "Gonzo" and "A Raisin in the Sun." Otherwise, you're just going to remain on my joke list.
I told you, sick reporter sense of humor.