FBLA knew that if we waited long enough, something wonderful would cross our path. Cary Tennis, Salon’s idiot-savant of advice, gets a letter from a student of journalism who hates asking rude questions of strangers. This innocent asks Tennis how to cope and gets a bunch of long-winded gooblety-gook in reply and then this revealing epicus:
I worked five years in a dull corporate job doing technical manuals about oil tankers. That’s how I got my job at Salon.
Trust us, honey, it shows.
One reader comes to the rescue:
The name of one of these magazines you could write for is Hello! I love it. People are photographed in glamorous surroundings, in a variety of outfits, and encouraged to boast and preen as much they want. The journalist is always sympethetic in his or her approach, and that just helps matters along nicely. The subject routinely makes a fool of themselves, in a very entertaining way.
FBLA thinks that the letter-writer loves the idea of journalism but not the actual action. Getting paid to ask total strangers rude questions? Our idea of heaven.