A Curious Case of the Clueless

Let me tell you, there is no surer way to bungle a perfect day than to tangle oneself in the muddled musings of an organization that couldn’t organize a picnic without losing track of the sandwiches. Such was my fate when I endeavored, in earnest, to report on a national car show, a seemingly simple assignment that proved about as crystalline as molasses in January.

Here’s the rub: for ten long years, Virginia City has been the grand opener for the organization in question—a proud tradition, you’d think. And yet, when the press conference rolled around, the folks running the circus spoke of everything under the sun—new venues, old venues, venues that may or may not exist in alternate dimensions—but not a word about the one venue that mattered.

The result? A chorus of confused reporters, all singing different tunes, none of them in harmony, and yours truly leading the cacophony like a tone-deaf conductor.

Oh, but thank goodness for the Internet. That glorious superhighway of enlightenment, where misinformation travels faster than a speeding ticket, and corrections limp behind like a three-legged dog.

While every other news outlet scrambled to fix its errors, I, in my infinite wisdom, almost failed to realize my mistake and correct my article. Well, I fixed it after Asa, my editor, who possesses the keen eyesight of an eagle and the patience of a wet cat, had read it.

And what did Asa do upon discovering my blunder? Why, he pulled my story faster than a gambler snatches his winnings and replaced it with a version—polished, precise, and utterly devoid of my charming errors. And there it was, the cold, hard truth: I had made myself look as ridiculous as a rooster trying to crow with a mouth full of marbles.

Some might call this a humbling experience, but I prefer to think it a valuable lesson. And that lesson is this: when an organization can’t be bothered to clarify what it is or isn’t doing, and when the press conference is as useful as a screen door on a submarine, the only safe course of action is to write about something else entirely.

Perhaps next time, I’ll report on the weather. At least clouds don’t hold press conferences — they just wordlessly float away.