I need a raise.
I’m a good reporter. One of the elite reporters in our newsroom. Similarly, Bob Woodward is an elite reporter in the Washington Post newsroom. So, naturally, I marched into my editor’s office and requested a raise.
"I’m an elite reporter," I told him, "and I deserve to be paid like other elite reporters."
Figuring that Woodward makes at least several million dollars off book sales and royalties, plus the speaking engagements, I asked for a contract worth about $3 million for four years. I believe that fairly compensates me for the contributions I make to our team of newsmen and -women, and for the contributions I plan to make over the coming years. There is some concern about my ability to adjust to a new, more difficult beat, but everyone who has watched me perform knows that there’s little doubt I could lead this newsroom to a Pulitzer.
After hearing my request, my editor laughed for a while (not sure what that was about; this is a very serious issue) and said he’d get back to me.
After several days, I felt a little frustrated. He hadn’t even counteroffered!
So I drove to his house in the country and decided to bring the negotiations to his doorstep, as it were. I knocked on his door and said that my private 1996 Saturn SC-2 was set to drive out of his driveway the next morning, with or without him in it to sign my new, elite-reporter contract.
After several hours of intense negotiations — which involved a lot of begging, pleading, crying and ultimately trying to ply him with wine — I left in my private car. Alone.
Apparently in the real world, people don’t like it when you knock on their door unanounced and insist on talking until they capitulate to their demands. Heh. That would have been helpful to know.
Does anyone know a company that needs an elite writer?