Little Failures (Off the Record)

Leonard Campbell, who I mentioned in a previous entry, just came into the office and handed me a piece of paper. It was a comment about the article I wrote about him, his family, and his business. He said he was displeased with some of the statements made in the article, statements he had said he wished to be off the record.

I am really good at obeying the statement “off the record,” especially at this early stage of living in this town and working at the paper. When someone says it, I listen. I’ll even, upon request, send someone pieces of an article in which they are referred or quoted before it is given to my editor, and make changes accordingly, because I don’t want to get on anyone’s bad side; I don’t want to misrepresent anyone.

Particularly in a small town like Wrangell, no one wants to – by mistake – piss anyone off. Some stories are so heated in town, there are people who refuse to be quoted, refuse to answer questions, refuse to be mentioned in conjunction with whatever topic. Since I have just moved here, I am usually ignorant to the depths that some issues go. I have rarely felt like I was overstepping boundaries as I usually don’t know what those boundaries are. This, I have deducted, has been a blessing. Because I am new to town, I have no loyalties to any one person or group and people mostly assume I don’t know the background of things, which I don’t.

So when Leonard Campbell came in and told me he was displeased, I felt like I had failed in some way. I remember him saying that he wanted certain things he off the record, but I obviously thought he was referring to other statements, not to the ones I used.

I felt so bad, especially since I really enjoyed interviewing him and wanted him to like the story. What had sparked my writing the article was the city council’s decision to rename Outer Drive to Campbell Drive. A story that was supposed to honor him and his family ended up causing him some agitation, and that is something that truly makes me sad. I also felt bad because I actually take pride in writing profiles as opposed to other news I write about. I had failed with this one. I had caused someone to doubt my reporting skills.

And instead of letting it pass – because I will undoubtedly upset some people with my stories while I’m here, despite how much I’d rather not – I cracked. While Leonard Campbell was standing in front of me handing me this piece of paper, I kind of chocked up and started to tear. I don’t know if he noticed or not. I apologized as sincerely as I could, which makes me think it actually came out sounding insincere, explained that I must have misunderstood what parts were supposed to be off the record. And he left.

That was my first real episode of failure since I’ve been here. It’s affecting me way more than it should. Even as I walked through town a little bit after Leonard Campbell left, I felt like everyone who drove by me had heard about my failure and hated me. It’s exactly the same feeling I get when a friend is mad at me (which, with my penchant to please, almost never happens) – I feel as if everyone could see through me, and the only thing that was visible was the fact that I had made someone upset.

It’s a weakness of mine, I know. I need to have a thicker spine, deeper conviction in what I do. I need a harder shell that won’t let these types of things drive me to tears. I’ve needed these my whole life.

I like praising people through writing. But I guess I also like revealing little truths. So if through the supposed “off the record” statements, I shed some truth on a matter, then I guess it wasn’t a total failure. I also don’t necessarily believe in “off the record.” Like I said, I abide by it, but if it’s important enough to say in an interview, then it ought to be important enough to write about, or at least allowable to write about. I mean, I am a reporter – if you don’t want something written about, don’t say it. But then again, I also don’t want people to not trust me. People say things that they regret later, or people have the urge to say something that they know shouldn’t be said, so they add the disclaimer.

I guess there’s nothing wrong with revealing a truth, even if it is a bit ugly or a matter of conflict. Perhaps I’ll need to let myself forgive myself for this one and chalk it up to trials of the job.

I’ve figured this out in my personal life, and now I’m realizing it in my professional life – I will never be able to please everyone. I really, naively, thought I could. And if I'm being totally honest (on the record), I still haven't quite come to grips with it in terms of my personal life - it's a truth I cannot deny, but I'll always, always try my hardest.