Saturday, February 4, 2023

Prose Poem: Heather Haddon. by Tim Torkildson

 


Heather Hadon called me on my cell today.

"Will you do something for me?" she asked.

"Sure, why not?" I replied.

"It's really, really important" she said.

 "Just name it" I said. I like Heather.

She and I go back a long way.

I knew her when we were students together

at Oberlin College. She studied anthropology.

I studied farrier technology.

Which I flunked out of.

And then we both got reporter jobs at

the Bergen Record.

 "I need you to buy a subscription to the

Wall Street Journal. The print edition.

Not the online edition" she told me.

"Can do" I replied. "Any particular

reason why?" 

"The paper is losing readers. It's hemorrhaging money fast" she said tearfully.

"Really?" I said, amazed. "That's so sad. What happened?"

"I dunno. People don't want to get ink on their hands, I guess" she said. "So each reporter has to sell ten subscriptions per week or get fired."

"Land o' Goshen!" was my only response.

After I hung up I immediately went down to the news stand on Fifth and Center. I told Barney, the guy who runs it, to sign me up for the Wall Street Journal.

"No can do, chum" he told me.

"Why?" I demanded.

"They only take on readers with college degrees" he said. "And I happen to know you washed out of the farrier program at Oberlin. You told me so yourself."

"Well, then, can I at least buy a copy of it?" I asked in exasperation.

"I guess so" he grumbled, handing me a copy. "But don't tell anyone where you got it. I might lose my license."

Sad to say Heather lost her job at the Journal.

She couldn't meet her sales quota.

Which is a real shame, since she writes so well

about supermarkets and restaurants. 

She gets awards from the National Press Club 

all the time.

I hear she went back to work for the

New York Post.

A step down, sure.

But better than going back to Oberlin for a 

masters in anthropology.

You can't do anything with that nowadays.


 

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