Not a bad day at the office

Part of getting used to the new gig is learning to live without deadlines.

As a 24-hour news cycle, Ann Arbor.com thrives on having new stories each time readers log on. So when my editor sent me up to the Buick Open Pro-Am today to see Ann Arbor native Bob Seger play golf with Tiger Woods, I figured it would be an interesting day.

After finding Woods' group on the 8th hole, I started following them inside the ropes thanks to the media passes the PGA Tour offers reporters.

Inside the ropes gives reporters access to more of the small talk and informal moments of a round of golf. While much of a country club's decor stands up during a pro-am, players tend to be a bit more relaxed.

Seger - who was inducted into the Rock &Roll Hall of Fame in 2004, spent much of the day grinding around the course. Before teeing off, he'd often toke on one of the eight cigarettes he smoked during the first 12 holes.

He played to the large gallery following the group, taking time to sign autographs and joke with fans as he played with the world's No. 1 golfer.

Three holes after I, along with an Associated Press intern started following Woods' group, Tiger used a small waiting period to come chat.

It was nothing special - just small talk with a surprisingly laid-back golfer who has the reputation of sending F-bombs to photographers who interrupt his golf swing with their clicking cameras.

We talked about how Seger was playing and he offered up a hilarious Pro-Am story that is best saved for talk over beers.

Woods' group ended up shooting 11-under par. I huddled into a cramped interview space to record Tiger's thoughts of coming back for what may be the final Buick Open. He spoke of a lot of joke-telling and story-telling during his Pro-Am round and talked of how being a father has changed his perspective on his line of work.

From there, it was on to Seger's press conference, which included a lot more laughs and his thoughts of getting his 64-year-old body to last 18 holes of golf.

On the days when this business offers a less than desirable assignment or an unhappy reader that calls to offer up his option of my latest work, I will think back on this day.

There's an old analogy which claims that your worst day on the golf course is better than your best day at work.

Today, I combined the two and enjoyed every minute of it.

Our little 5-minute chat with Tiger was just the icing on the cake.

Starting off

Talk about equal opportunity.

On my first day at AnnArbor.com, I walked into a room that looked nothing like a newsroom (by design) and found my seat in a sports department that looked nothing like a sports department.

I had all of two hours of training on the software we would write in and enough Apple store training classes to know what I was doing with a flip camera and an editing program.

I had 17 years of reporting experience to fall back on, but I quickly discovered something unique.

On my first day, pretty much everyone else knew just as much as I did.

For better or for worse, we were all equals. In it together. Come what may.

Sink or swim.

My first week's worth of assignments have been pretty basic. An interview with a college football coach. Covering a local golf tournament. Interviewing Michigan basketball players. Writing stories.

Our site launched four days ago. We made it through step one.

For better for worse. Come what may. Sink or swim.

We were all in it together.

But blocks away, my friends and colleagues I had left behind were living through Black Thursday. The day we all had dreaded for months was upon our community - both inside and outside of the paper's walls.

I couldn't bare to drive into work that day. I wrote from home, finishing up a story and a freelance project. Photos and Facebook updates alerted me to what was happening and who had drank how much.

There were parties and after-parties - a wake for a newspaper that had just been confirmed dead. I thought of my friends, but left the day to them, unsure what I would say if I saw them.

There were T-shirts that read, "No News is Bad News." So true.

Now, four days after the final edition ran off the presses, our new journalism venture continues to find its way.

There are people who like us and those who curse us. Those willing to try us and those who will go their separate ways.

But we're all in it together. For better or for worse. Come what may. Sink or swim.

Catching up

Three weeks ago, I faced an uncertain future.

Now, it has begun to take shape.

If even for a short time.

For months now, I allowed the talk of AnnArbor.com - the new media company replacing The Ann Arbor News - to go on without me. I was determined that I wouldn't be part of an outfit that drove myself and so many of my friends out of work.

But as time passed and no definite employment opportunities in front of me, I gave in to the talk. I began to pay attention to what was going on with the company. I heard a sales pitch of why I should join the AnnArbor.com team. I created a mental pros and cons list. I wrestled with the idea of becoming a digital journalist.

A digital journalist? I am a journalist, period.

But as I went back and forth whether I would become part of the new venture, I came to a conclusion.

I still want to impact the world with my work. Even if it's working as a sports digital journalist. There are stories left I can tell. The site would offer me new ways to tell them. I could shoot and edit video. I would learn to blog. I would Tweet on Twitter.

So two weeks before the paper was to close, I accepted a job with the dot.com as it has become known among my Ann Arbor journalism friends.

I cleaned out my desk at the paper and moved my belongings to our new work space a few blocks away. I said my goodbyes at one office and my hellos at another.

I am thinking this is only the beginning of my great new adventure.

Crunch time

In three weeks, The Ann Arbor News will cease to exist.

For many of us, I'm not sure the finality of the event has completely sunk in. But in the last week, the seriousness of the situation has hit me.

As of right now, I have no full-time work lined up after July 23. Both of the employment options I thought were in place have fallen through. I have spent the past five days reaching out to everyone I can, inquiring about possible openings in their media organizations.

So far, nothing.

There are good days and bad. On the days when I find stories to work on, I am energized by the profession I still love. On days when there is little work, my mind starts to creep into the realm of the uncertain.

The questions are everyone.

What are you going to do?

Are you going back to school?

Will you keep writing?

Those around me are optimistic.

"Oh, you will be fine," they tell me.

"You're too good not to be working as a journalist."

"I'm sure you will land on your feet."

So far, nothing has presented itself to let me know that is true.

My faith is being stretched like silly putty. I know this is where God wants me. My career is not my own. Things happen in His time, not mine.

I must be patient. But that - especially when it comes to my career and contributing to covering our bills - is tough. I waver from self-confident to doubtful. My emotions run from hopeful to angry.

I tell myself not to worry. I try to let go. But then all at once, everything comes rushing back.

Three weeks. Twenty-one days. Crunch time.

Making it official

With six weeks left before the closing of the paper, I signed documents today, officially accepting a severance from The Ann Arbor News.

The exercise was painless, lasting all of five minutes.

I signed my name twice and wrote in a date of the latest I will be paid. I slid the papers across to a notary who stamped them and put my forms in a pile with the others.

I returned to my desk and went back to the story I had begun working on a few hours earlier.

And just like that, the last step of my departure - other than cleaning out my desk - was complete.

Every day, the closing of the paper gets a little more real. People ask me what I am going to do and what's going to replace the newspaper.

I answer the questions politely, knowing it's not their fault that the paper that has served Ann Arbor for the past 174 years is closing.

In the next six weeks, I will stay busy. I have to. It's my way of putting off the reality of not knowing what lays ahead.

I have a couple of stories I am really excited about. I know they will demand my time and full attention – two things I am happy to surrender while I wait to learn of where I will be next.

What are you fighting for?

I understand the question. I really do.

Those who have heard about the Ann Arbor News closing have asked me if I am going to do something new.

It's a fair question. One of I have considered hundreds of times.

At times, it seems logical that I would move on to a new career, leaving behind 17 years of wonderful memories of stories I've written, places I have visited.

I think back to my first job. A courts and cops reporting job that threw me into the world of reporting head-first.

I remember sitting in a small courtroom in a historic courthouse, sitting through a week-long rape trial. 

Every I story I wrote was re-written by an editor who knew the area better and had the luxury of knowing the history of the case.

As frustrated as I was having my work torn apart, it pushed me to get to the point where editors changed words or punctuation marks. Not sentences or complete paragraphs.

Seventeen years later, I am still learning. Still yearning to write stories that people remember. To tell stories in ways people will talk about the next day at work. 

I read other people's work and see what is possible when words and reporting come together the right way.

So am I ready to give up the fight? Not in the least.

Not when I am getting closer to the goal I have always held for myself.

Signing on the dotted line

I knew this day was coming.

The email arrived almost two weeks ago, alerting Ann Arbor News employees that, within the next day or two, a letter containing the details of our severance package would be coming in the mail.

Two days later, two envelopes – one containing a letter from publisher Laurel Champion, the other holding the terms of my severance – came in the Saturday mail.

There, in contract form, where the specifics of my departure from the newspaper where I have spent nearly the past five years of my career.

In previous weeks, I had done my best to focus on life after The Ann Arbor News. What would I do? Where would I work? Where would money come from?

But as I read through the contents of the two envelopes, one thing came to mind. 

This was a short-term fix. Short-term meaning a matter of weeks that I could expect to continue receiving money from the newspaper.

Within five weeks, the money would stop, the benefits would disappear and if, I hadn't found my next career stop, we would be on our own.

Earlier this week, I sat in an hour-long meeting. My co-workers and I sat in a large conference room having our severance packages explained to us by the publisher and head of human resources.

There were questions. Concerns. Frustrations.

Ah, to be right in the middle of limbo once again.