Flak Like Me p.68

UNTIL I BECAME one, public relations professionals were flaks: despicable creatures who had human-like features but were devoid of brain activity.
Then I joined their ranks.
I aspired to be a savior, a reformer, a pearl among swine. I would put years of journalism experience to good use at a government agency, helping the good citizens of South Carolina get information that they needed. I remained close to my newsroom colleagues and loyal to the newspaper. I still considered myself one of the gang. I hadn't changed, after all, only the size of my paycheck had.
But six months after I left the newspaper, I learned the truth: While I still considered myself a journalist — albeit a journalist on hiatus — few shared my view.
This truth was revealed not long after my politico husband took a six-month job with a campaign in Chicago. Although we were resigned to a temporary commuter marriage, I thought I should at least poke around to see if any opportunities loomed for me.
Name-dropping got me through to a well-known columnist at the Chicago Tribune, and indeed, she was cordial at first.
Then she figured out that, despite my 14 years of experience as a reporter and editor, despite my awards for feature writing and reporting, I was, in fact, one of THEM. A traitor. A flak.
Oh, the shame of it all.
You're not in the business anymore? she asked, unable to disguise her disdain. I'm sure you know how tough the market is, and it's practically impossible to get work at a newspaper if you're not at another one.
I explained that I had merely taken a sabbatical from the news business, that I'd been away for six months, not six years. (I didn't mention that my former boss already said he'd take me back.)
My would-be colleague was unimpressed. Her attitude — which I fear runs rampant in the press — was that once you've left the fold, you're out of the club forever. Leave for six months, six years, whatever — leaving journalism is like leaving Toyland: You can never return again.
Pity.
For in a year as a press secretary, I became a better journalist. And were I in charge at a newspaper, I would not only hire former flaks as reporters, I would actively seek them out. Here are a few reasons why:
u Former flaks will never call a source at 5 p.m. for comment on a story that broke at 11 a.m. (Yes, all anecdotes are true.) It conveys laziness, it guarantees a skimpy story, and it demonstrates ignorance of how the real world operates. In the real world (i.e., professions outside of journalism) people sometimes go home in the evening to be with their families. And it's even OK with their bosses!
u Former flaks will never address a public official or company CEO by his or her first name (or, worse, nickname), unless invited to do so first.