How NOT to Help a Reporter Out! They HATE my stuff! {UPDATE}

I joined a service, Help a Reporter Out where journalists, newscasters and writers seek credentialed 'experts' to help them out with stories or pieces for their research.

A serious article I wrote was recently published in TheGrindstone as well as a slightly comical one. Motivated, I responded to several other requests. Just don't understand why these weren't published.

Question:  Are You Still Friends with you Ex-Boyfriend/Husband/Whatever:

My response:

Emphatically NO!

Want to know why?

(1) The ex-bf from 3 years ago accidentally set my house on fire.

(2) The ex-bf from 2 years ago gave me a green mold infection that defied biopsies.

(3) The ex-bf from recently (concerned that I wouldn't be his friend after we broke up) was a certifiable lunatic. Rumors are still floating that I buried his body in the lake.

Question:  5 Quick Reasons Why You Should Respond to the Booty Call

My response:

(1)  The timing is perfect: you just started the antibiotics from your last bout with him and won't risk another STD.

(2)  Maybe this time you'll get pregnant.

(3)  You just purchased that hidden cam recorder and want to test it out. Your fans on youtube await this new video.

(4)  He'll be an excellent alibi. Now to get the timing right...

(5)  Perhaps this time the space aliens will abduct him instead.

Question: Your Favorite Memories of Dad

My response:

My father loved eating fresh cherries. And driving fast. One summer day, Dad decided to take a super highway, 4 lanes each way which appealed to his speed freak nature. Cheapo that he was, he insisted on keeping both our windows wide open to save on air conditioning. What he really had in mind was to combine the two of his fav hobbies into one. While eating his cherries, he then jettisoned the pit and stem out my window on the passenger side missing my face by inches.

After five minutes of this, I whined, "Dad, knock it off. Throw that out from your own window."

So he did. And in the process knocked his bifocal glasses off onto the pavement. We veered and he managed to cross three lines without incident to the highway shoulder. 

"This is all your fault," he yelled. "I can't see! Get my glasses!"

Livid, I jumped out of the car and darted and dashed to avoid being splattered by oncoming traffic. Finally, I made it to the other side of the highway. Amazingly, his glasses were intact and not crushed.

Jumping back into the passenger seat, I handed him the glasses. He put them on and proceeded back onto the highway, muttering, "Oh boy, oh boy."

Within two seconds, a cherry pit and stem flew by my face.

I shouldn't complain; it was better than his sunflower seed habit.

Question: Co-Workers Most Annoying Habit

My response:

Way back when I was an international correspondent banker, a glamourous and prestigious position, I worked in close proximity with several colleagues, interacting constantly. One of them had the annoying habit of adding, "you know what I mean" at the end of every sentence. My coworkers and I realized we picked up that terrible habit which didn't fit in with the caliber and esteem of our position interacting with top bankers throughout the world. So, in order to wean the leader of this habit, we developed an acronym, YKWIM and somehow that developed into "YUKUM." After yelling YUKUM constantly to that fellow, it successfully stopped him from repeating that phrase. But, for several years, while we worked together, YUKUM became, in turn, a habit we didn't realize we picked up. To our detriment. We sounded like idiots.

Question: How to Tell You're Going to be Laid Off

My response:

Experience has dictated the following indications that you're going to be laid off:

(1) Your business trips are suddenly canceled, orders from senior management.

(2) Your secretary informs you that the budget no longer covers replenishing your business cards.

(3) A new corporate hierarchy was created and you find that you're now reporting to your secretary. She, at least, got new business cards.

(4) You enter the company cafeteria and all talk stops.

(5) All at once, 30 years' experience evaporated and now your input is no longer required.

(6) You can clear a conference room in less than 5 seconds.

(7) Security issues you a temporary badge.

(8) Corporate attorneys hound you for infractions you never committed. 

(9) After raises and promotions for several years, your salary was cut back and your boss' mistress who doubles as his right hand got a new car.

(10) Your friends in human resources cross streets in order to avoid seeing you in public.

(11) You're placed on probation and told to never enter your boss' office ever again.

and, my all-time favorites (which occurred to me):

(12) All your personal information was 'accidentally' dumped on the internet and you find yourself the victim of one of the largest cases of identity fraud in your state.
You're having impromptu meetings with police, FBI agents and phoning the credit agencies when you suddenly receive in the inter-office mail a sealed envelope from the IRS informing you of an audit covering the past few years. 

(13) After you return home from a bad day in the office wrangling with detectives, credit agencies, IRS, there's a messenger waiting in the vestibule of your apartment building. Inside the sealed envelope, you find not only a pink slip, but a cease and desist letter.

Damn, I miss those days in corporate America!

That last email was bounced back. I wonder why.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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