Crashes Cost February 7, 2010
Posted by Maggie Menderski in Connections.Tags: car crash, computer crash, internship, journalism, magazines, server crash, stories, technology
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Summer 2006, washing the two toned disaster my crash caused.
At age 16, I crashed my dad’s car into a van of Mormons from Indiana on their way to visit the temple.
That mishap cost me my high school theatre career and an insurance increase I didn’t shake until I started college.
I know very well where every penny and hour I lost to that crash went. I started spending less time in rehearsal and more time at work. Fewer evenings ‘out’ and more nights ‘closing.’
As it turns out computers work the same way. Crashes cost.
I dedicated my winter recess from the University of Missouri to interning with Anthem Media Group in Overland Park, Kansas. While there I wrote 10 stories (to be posted soon), arranged calendars and condensed press released for KC Magazine and KC Business Magazine.
This week I received an email from the associated editor. Attached to my letter of recommendation was a request for any backup files I may have had.
Anthem’s server crashed.
With it, all the work I’d done for the March 2010 issues vanished. Fortunately, raw copies of my ten stories were in a file on my MacBook, but the press releases and calendars had been tucked away on a desktop in the office.
My editor told me things have spiralled out of control and they’re trapped redoing all the work we’d muddled through three weeks ago. Looks like crashes of any kind equal longer nights working past close and more hours away from play.
Super Intern January 12, 2010
Posted by Maggie Menderski in On the Clock.Tags: intern, journalism, Kansas City, magazines, wedding
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I thought she was going to call the authorities.
The look on her face made me think my Christmas bonus was a nice white jacket. Maybe she’d send me to a rubber room where I could bounce and play all day without having to worry about hurting myself. For a vague moment, I feared they’d give me tranquilizer.
"Proud to be 100% ambitious and committed--I will be the best intern."
Seriously? It’s not like I offered to hand write this month’s issue of KC Magazine. I only offered to work through the weekend.
I suppose when I’ve already volunteered to work five days a week all the way through my winter recess (when the other two interns only work 3 days each) I suppose my request could have seemed mildly ludicrous.
Then I thought about this coffee mug I saw at Hallmark the other day, and I laughed. I think I really have been possessed by the spirit of the crazy, ambitious brown nosing intern.
Oops.
In my defense, wanting to work this weekend was purely selfish. (Not that selfishness is a good defense) I’ve got one week left at Anthem Media Group. So far, I’ve managed five stories amidst the rest of the necessary magazine muddle that needs to be done.
I’ve done countless calendar items, press releases, played stylist assistant at the monthly fashion shoot and tampered with web editing—which is great, wonderful and necessary experience. Those are skills I can squeeze onto a resume and mention at an interview.
I assembled the proof book for the February 2010 bridal issue of KC Magazine today. I felt like Christmas had come all over again when I saw my name listed with the rest of the staff. As if that wasn’t enough, seeing my words in glossy print was better than unwrapping my American Girl doll at age five.
I did it.
That was my name, those were my words and my “—M.M.” rested gently at the bottom of the stories on invitation trends, wedding cake alternatives, photography and neighborhoods for newlyweds.
Anything else from this point forward will be for the March issues. For my fifth story I had to find a unique work environment for KCB’s “Daily Grind.” I was fortunate enough to stumble on Charlotte Allen who spends her days working with a half dozen plaster Easter bunny heads staring over her shoulder. Charlotte works at A to Z Theatrical Supplies and Services—a local Kansas City costumer.
Stories six to eleven have yet to be written, which is why I want to work this weekend. This time around I’m focusing on spring hobbies, a theatrical preview, kid’s recreation and two more business profiles. If I finish those, my editor has a few more projects she’s willing to pitch to me.
Obnoxiously ambitious intern or clip crazy college student? You decide. Either way, I’m glad the only rubber room I’m visiting tomorrow is Monkey Bizness. I’m planning on featuring them in my piece on kid’s recreation.
Taking direction December 31, 2009
Posted by Maggie Menderski in On the Clock.Tags: fashion, gps, internship, journalism, Kansas City, magazine
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Thankfully—Santa brought me a GPS. Her name is Eileen.
Now that Christmas is over, Eileen and I have moved to Kansas City. Together we’re struggling figure out how the numerous interstates and short cuts fit together. The night before my internship started, I did the responsible thing and took a practice drive to the office. Considering my horrible sense of direction, I was incredibly surprised when I found my way without getting lost.
I could totally handle this transplant. No problem right?
The next morning I reported to the Associate Editor on time—once again, without getting lost.
That was my second ego boost, I could handle whatever they threw at me.
Then I got my assignment for the day. I was going to spend my morning calling wedding photographers, finding invitation trends and looking up alternatives to wedding cakes. These matrimonial details would eventually transform into a collection of short pieces I would be writing for KC Magazine’s February Bridal Issue.
I was practically born to do that!
But the second part of my day? I was supposed to assist New York stylist, Luis, as he traveled from boutique to boutique picking out bridal gowns and accessories for a photo shoot—and I was supposed to drive.
Could I do that? I wasn’t quite sure. Luis had just moved Kansas City from New York, and I’d been here just under 24 hours. Neither one of us had any clue where we were going.
Thank God for Eileen.
She recalculated about 15 different times as Luis jabbered away on his iPhone. But we made it. He selected the gowns and accessories while I labeled them and took notes.
At the end of the day I’d survived a full tour of my new city and started on my first few magazine clips. Not only can I do this, I am doing it.
A different kind of sellout December 11, 2009
Posted by Maggie Menderski in On the Clock.Tags: ex boyfriends, journalism, newspaper, reporter
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Growing up, a “sellout” referred a crowd.
Before the show, I would pace the stage behind the curtain and listen to the rumbling noise of the shoulder-to-shoulder audience.
I’d let my lines roll over the back of my mind as my feet traced my blocking.
I’d dash backstage just before the overture and wait to storm the sellout as the character that would consume me for the entire performance.
I loved the theatre.
I loved the crowd.
I loved performing.
But these day, I thrive on writing, reporting and stories.
Passions change, but a person’s level of passion never wavers. I put just as much of my heart into every story as I did with every performance.
I randomly bumped into my ex-boyfriend at the bus stop last week. I hadn’t seen the guy since we went our separate ways nearly two years ago. The girl who broke his heart during my freshman year of college was a crazy dreamer caught between high school and life ambition.
The woman he saw at the busy stop was a fledgling reporter. That boy used to watch me roll out of bed and run to class in my pajamas on a daily basis. So, you can imagine his surprise when he saw me in a business casual dress, with my hair pulled back in a bun and my makeup fully done. As if that wasn’t enough, he was quick to notice I’d trashed my trusty Compaq for a MacBook in a shoulder bag stamped with “Missouri School of Journalism”
He laughed at me in a goodhearted way and called me a “sellout.” Apparently, this mildly adult look didn’t match up with the Disney princess notebooks he’d seen me scribble in during that first year.
But a sellout has never been something negative to me before. I’d rather throw myself into something I love than spend the rest my days in t-shirts from my high school and clinging to solos and stage mics.
I love what I do.
Building a platform with paper December 3, 2009
Posted by Maggie Menderski in Journalistic Dreams.Tags: journalism, Writing platform
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If I asked my father to help me build a platform, we could step out into the garage and do it in a matter of hours. Even better, my dad would make sure my platform was better than any other kid’s on the block. It would be sanded, neatly painted and would most certainly tower over the rest.
If that wasn’t enough, he’d probably wire it with neon lights—I’m not kidding. My dad is awesome.
Unfortunately, the platform I need won’t come from the scrap materials in his garage.
My platform comes from personality, stories and references.
To break it down:
33% my word
33% paper
33% someone else’s word
…and the final 1% is chance.
The only physical thing in that entire mix is paper.
Have you ever tried to stand on a stack of paper? I tried it once and ended up with a welt shaped like Alaska on my left knee.
I’ve spent my entire college career building my platform as a writer. With each passing semester my portfolio, confidence and slew of references begins grow.
This year I must have hit a growth spurt. I started with small municipality reporting in my hometown. Through my work at the Call I mastered professionalism and reporting etiquette.
Then my writing technique blossomed at the Missourian. I have never received such encouraging and reputable feedback on my work. This semester confirmed my belief that I’ve chosen the correct profession.
Thirdly, this winter at KC Magazine I’ll be given the opportunity to completely step outside my comfort zone. I’m transplanting myself to a new environment without any pay in an attempt to stick another slab on my own tower. Some called me crazy for throwing away my Christmas. I’m not throwing it away. I’m putting it to good use.
My platform may be made of paper, but my personality and ambition are holding it together. With each passing day it continues to grow taller, and I firmly believe it’s capable of raising me up.
Inviting future vs. welcoming past. October 13, 2009
Posted by Maggie Menderski in Journalistic Dreams.Tags: internships, journalism, Kansas City
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I knew the room and the crowd well. I snuck in the back, content with fading into the background. As far as I was concerned my time in this particular spotlight had faded months ago. I was just here to visit. I was only here to help. I was not going to make a scene.
And then, my old choir director pulled me to the front of the room.
“This is Maggie,” he said. “She’s 19 and a sophomore in college. This is Gabby, she’s 5 and a proud kindergartener. Tonight, Maggie, Gabby and the rest of you in between need to work together.”
This is how the director of the youth choir at my parish opened rehearsal for Christmas Eve mass last winter. Fresh from my third semester of college, and back in my hometown I was invited to “help out” with the vocals. Singing in the choir and soloing at the ambo was something I’d done the whole way through my high school career. For Christmas the youth choir, the children’s choir and graduated alumnae work together. Consequently, I was the oldest member in the throng last Christmas. With a few alumnae at my side, moody teenagers standing in front of us and a fleet of children in the spotlight we filled the church with the sounds of Christmas.
The music was beautiful, and it felt great to be home—but that was last year.
Within the past three weeks I’ve received three winter invitations. The first came from the Associate Editor at Anthem Media Group offering me a winter editorial internship with KC Magazine. The second arrived shortly after from a friend’s mother, inviting me into their home during my five week internship.
Surprise, surprise—with a few quick phone calls, I wasn’t coming home for winter break.
Suddenly, my plans of lounging around the fireplace and watching Christmas movies with my mom were vanishing. Thoughts of revisiting my high school stomping grounds were obsolete. I’ve always said I wasn’t coming home after college, but I never factored in that I wouldn’t be coming home during college. I’m 20 years old, and half way through my fifth semester at Mizzou, I suppose this is normal—but it’s new to me.
I’ve done the math and counted the days. Between now and the end of my junior year, I will spend less than 15 days at home. Between working at the paper, and being a full time student there isn’t much time for running back to St. Louis. On top of that, I’ve already begun looking at internships for this summer, and most stretch beyond the borders of Missouri.
I’m finally growing up, and I’m thrilled.
But just when I thought I was barreling down the path of journalistic ambition at full speed, I received my third invitation. My old choir director asked me if I would be interested in singing again this Christmas Eve.
While I’ll live in Kansas City the duration of my break, I will be home Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Who am I to pass up tradition?
I am slowly learning that my home, my voice and my past are much harder to ditch than I thought.
Then again, maybe that’s not exactly a bad thing. Just maybe, one of these days I’ll accept the fact that I can be both the journalist I dream of being and the little girl singing on the alter.
But until then, whenever then maybe… I think I’ll focus on my dreams.
Breaking ground with breaking news. September 22, 2009
Posted by Maggie Menderski in On the Clock.Tags: breaking news, Columbia Missourian, journalism, reporter
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Looking back, the best way to summarize the first day of my fifth semester of college is through the excessive tweeting I engaged in all day long.
- Dear Mizzou if you love your j school so much you shouldn’t drop its students on the other side of campus. Just saying. 10:58 AM Aug 24th from txt
- I have Spanish now. Something tells me I intended to brush up over the summer. Aiee. 11:35 AM Aug 24th from txt
- I have to be at the Missourian every morning at 11am. There’s a dress code. Half my wardrobe just became irrelevent. 11:39 AM Aug 24th from txt
- The Missourian wants me to have a 573 phone number ($10 a month), a press ID ($20) a digital camera ($150+) and new wardrobe ($100ish) lovely 1:19 PM Aug 24th from web
- Breaking news. Ran across campus barely caught the shuttle it’s my first day at the Missourian and I’m on my way to cover a stabbing. Omg. 4:51 PM Aug 24th from txt
- This is legit proof j school students should be given garage spots. 5:05 PM Aug 24th from txt
Amidst a day filled with complaining about commuter parking and realizing that over the summer I’d forgotten how to speak Spanish—I was sent to cover a stabbing.
The syllabus for my reporting class at the University of Missouri is filled with multiple little obscurities. I mentioned the Missourian’s shopping list in my daily tweets, but that was only the beginning of it.
After breaking my bank account and professionalizing my voicemail, I was handed schedule of City Desk shifts. Reporting students rotate answering the phones and transferring calls at the paper. Which honestly, isn’t a big deal. I’d been warned by upperclassmen. I’d been told it’s annoyingly boring and to bring as much homework as I could while I waited for the phone to ring.
Well, my first day of waiting for the phone to ring was completely unforgettable.
Halfway through my shift, news of a stabbing crashed along the police scanner. Apparently, I was the only one in the building with a free moment and a car. So, the ACE flung me a camera, a reporter’s notebook and a Mapquest and I began my 25-minute dash across campus. (Now do you see why commuter parking annoyed me?)
This summer, I’d polished my interviewing skills while covering city council meetings for the Call, but I’d never had the chance to try breaking news. The adrenaline was incredible. I’ve always loved journalism, but at that moment my passion for it reached it’s highest levels yet.
So, on a day that usually filled with syllabuses, class rules and seating charts—I was sent to crime scene, talking to cops and trying to figure out what made two neighbors brawl in the middle of their suburban subdivision.
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times. My degree is so much cooler than yours.
Life as the “Call Girl” August 16, 2009
Posted by Maggie Menderski in Journalistic Dreams.Tags: internship, journalism, reporter, St. Louis
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Wearing a smile and a skirt I’d stolen from my mother’s closet, I pushed the oak door open and took a seat in the front row. An older gentleman sitting alone in the large meeting room greeted me with a firm handshake.
“I’ve never seen you before,” he said. “You must be the new Call girl.”
I opened my bag of tricks and pulled out my tape recorder, a pen and a reporter’s notebook.
“I guess that’s what they’re calling me these days,” I replied with a quick laugh. “I suppose I better get used to it.”
Well, that’s how my summer began. I’d just arrived home from my fourth semester at the University of Missouri, and I’d barely had a moment to unpack my suitcase before I was tossed into my summer internship at Call Newspapers.
I’m not complaining—I promise. I was thrilled.
I’d spent the past summer working over 50 hours a week at two different jobs and taking night classes. My next 8 weeks would be spent gaining reporting experience, polishing my interviewing technique and practicing my writing style. This internship was the first step toward the journalism career I’d been fantasizing about for years.
Throughout June and July I bounced in between various municipality city halls. For the first time I was given the opportunity to prove I really am capable of writing just about anything. With an emphasis in magazine I’m born to write features, but this summer I hired to report. I wrote about road improvements, pool budgets and impervious taxes. I interviewed spokespeople, mayors and citizens. I filed sunshine requests, studied meeting agendas and examined budget reports. I didn’t care that these topics weren’t of an extreme interest to me. I was researching, interviewing and writing—which is all I’ve ever wanted.
Halfway through the internship I interviewed Alderman Bill Nolan about the budget for his city’s new pool. After the interview I received one of the greatest compliments of my minimal journalistic career.
“You’re a smart girl Maggie,” he said. “Are you sure you want to spend the rest of your life writing for magazines? You are quite the reporter.”
That comment has been branded on my mind for the past few weeks. I’ve always known I can do anything I set my mind to—I guess the question I need to ask myself is what I want to direct my ambition toward.
