This piece is entirely satirical as a part our April Fool’s edition, the Trinibonian.
I’m going to level with y’all: working for the Trinitonian as long as I have has not been a wholly pleasant experience. Is that surprising? I feel like most people aren’t really aware of what all this job requires of someone, especially as an executive who oversees everyone else’s positions. And yet, despite my unwavering commitment to my job, Pub Board actually fired me two weeks ago for assaulting a certain someone who said they didn’t read the Trinitonian. But in my opinion, it was warranted! Not naming names, but one particular person said “Oh, you work for the Trinitonian? I forget that even exists.” Bitch, I wish I could.
I’m kidding (mostly). Being a part of the Trinitonian for two and a half years has truly made my college experience unforgettable. I mean, really! Who could forget the weekly story idea meetings where you get to hear everyone’s gossip? Or our Wednesday production nights that my friends seem to think only lasts like an hour (how about NINE)? Or the fact that I spend more time in the moldy, windowless newsroom than I do outside or in the comfort of my own home? I have a bed down here and everything! Before you ask, yes, it is made from all those old newspapers, and no, no one else knows I still kind of live down here after being fired.
All I’m saying is that those of us (formerly) in the employ of the Trinitonian, especially those of us still living in the newsroom, deserve more recognition from our peers on the surface. It doesn’t matter that all the work happens behind the scenes; work is still work and we deserve praise. You think this job is easy? Just wait until you’re sitting through an eight-hour session of SGA wanting to pull your hair out and senators can’t decide whether or not to fully fund a darty with your tuition money. Even better when those same senators only read our SGA briefs to see who gets the bragging rights for seconding a motion.
But I’m not bitter, no! It’s not like I’m having to buy black box dye every six weeks to cover up all the gray hairs I’ve gotten. And I’m definitely not clinically insane by this point in the semester — though if I were, I guess that could be from all the mold exposure (did I mention there’s mold growing in the newsroom?).
The Trinitonian provides a critical service to the Trinity public: keeping people informed. And that brings me back to my original point. If you have the balls to tell me directly that you don’t read the paper I pour blood, sweat, tears, and absolutely no Oxford commas into, I might just throttle you. HAHA I’m just kidding, why would I do that? I got no beef with people who don’t pick up a paper…except maybe if you just get one to do the crossword. Scum of the earth right there.
Truthfully, reading the Trintonian comes at no cost at all, assuming you’re a student that hasn’t had the undisputable pleasure of working for us — I mean with us. Our newspaper is run and maintained by students who want real experience in a journalistic environment. It’s not the money that matters when you love what you do as much as I do. That’s why I’m still in the newsroom even though I’ve been barred access by TPD! Love overcomes all obstacles, although a Red 40-induced craze evidently does too.
So pick up a Trinitonian. Admire the time, effort, and sanity that your peers put into that paper every week. Or come to the newsroom and fight me. You’ll be by next meal (I’m all out of bonus bucks).