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Last updated on March 6th, 2018 at 12:30 am
My days at Fairfax were akin to pushing a large boulder up a steep hill with one’s nose. It was no fun to deal with debt of close to a billion dollars, a crumbling, “sick’ old building (the company doctor told me the structure was a threat to employee health), clapped out old presses run by thousands of stroppy printers who knew their days were numbered and expressed their frustration in charming gestures such as dropping bolts between the cylinders as they ran.
Then there were the journalists. A more anarchic, spoiled and self-important mob I have not encountered before or since and trust I never will. Pamela Williams talks about resources and numbers of journalists. I was appalled to learn that journalists received six weeks and five days leave a year. This was due, I was told, to the fact that they worked on public holidays.
Absolute balls, I discovered. On public holidays there were skeleton staffs at work and time off was dished out with abandon. Then, of course, there were the dreaded “sickies�?, which you took so you could go for a long run or a workout. To add insult to injury many quite high level journos took leave and didn’t tell anyone so it wasn’t recorded.
UPDATE. In yet more media news, Gianna has quit blogging. This means the romantic comments thread in which self-handling Christopher Sheil tells of holding tightly to his treasure will remain forever on her front page.