Journalism in the 21st Century

Today has not been a red letter day. First, seeing that I was in need of a job I decided to apply to waitress locally. Yet I soon got a call and they asked if I could do office work. Then when I showed up to do office work, the rotund proprietor asked behind his messy desk: "How much can you lift?" Earlier, he had asked what I had been doing in England ("studying") and then asked if I had made any money writing or if it was (then he laughed) just, you know, a hobby. I left that interview thankful that at least I had a real job interview on Thursday, for a reporting position in New York. I had walked by the Nissan dealership and spoken to the young salesperson. "I won't buy a car til I get a job. This is my third interview so I feel I will probably get it." Then I got on to the computer just now and had received an e-mail from HR: "Sorry, Laurie, but Hector (not his real name) has decided to hire internally. We will retain your resume. Keep checkin...

When I told my brother last night that a local restaurant and bar reminded me of a pub I'd find in Ealing or anywhere in West London, "except then people spoke with American accents," he quipped with a laugh: "Including YOU!" He knows how to get my goat. He knows that my 14 months in jolly old England affected me in many ways including how I communicate. I wrote my dissertation in British English, receiving a mark just four points shy of distinction. I am rather proud of this. Yet, those British words and phrases are not helping me here in Connecticut. Instead, I must reassimilate - a process I never hear anyone talk about! - and learn to love the way my fellow Americans speak. I was gone 14 months, as I said, and though I returned on various trips I was basically spared Trump nation-speak. So following please note I make no apologies for hating the following: 1. "You got this." - If Brits are saying this as well, I have not heard them, and every time ...