For the past few weeks I have been working at the Tribune, filling in as a temporary proofreader and typist.

Tuesday, August 07, 2001

For the past few weeks I have been working at the Tribune, filling in as a temporary proofreader and typist. It has been an enjoyable experience, despite the occasional wedding announcement from hell – the kind where people’s names are spelled in idiosyncratic ways (like &uot;Aeriqua&uot; and &uot;Hen3ry&uot;) and everyone from the dressmaker to the janitor to the limousine driver is identified and thanked. After typing up especially long lists of names I start wondering if there were any &uot;guests&uot; at the wedding or if everyone had a job. But I digress . . .

Working in the newsroom has taught me some new jargon: terms like &uot;separation&uot; and &uot;jumps,&uot; and the use of &uot;PDF&uot; as a verb. Jargon is always fun. I can use it in front of my students and look like an old pro at the writing business. Or when people ask me what I do for a living, I can confuse them with: &uot;What do I do? I PDF Quark files.&uot;

What I really did was check each day’s paper before it went to the press. And when I wasn’t needed for proofreading, I converted paper to computer files, by using either a document scanner (the modern way) or a keyboard (the old-fashioned way). I learned to be grateful for typed or word-processed letters, articles and notices, because the scanner moves the process along much more efficiently.

I learned quickly that proofreading a newspaper means more than simply checking for grammatical and spelling errors. The proofreader also checks to see that the date, issue and volume numbers in the masthead have been changed. Sometimes proofreading means checking facts and making sure pictures are displayed correctly. Sometimes it means pointing out an error to an editor who thought the story was word perfect. Perfection, meaning no errors, is the goal, but it never quite happens. Errors are elusive because our brains automatically correct many mistakes as we read; we just don’t see them. So errors can even appear on pages that have been checked by several readers. And it’s always the one you miss that is obvious to readers.

Getting each day’s news out is a complicated task, requiring the efforts of many and making use of several different tools and technologies. Our deadline for the press in Austin (where the Tribune is printed) is 9 a.m. But that’s when the copy has to be there, which we send as computer files via the internet. Our real deadline is 8:45. But that’s only if the high tech process works. When computers crash and software shuts down, the paper has to leave Albert Lea by 8:15 and be driven to Austin.

The hectic schedule might explain why often no-one answers the telephone until after 9. And I have gained new respect for technical staff, particularly Becky and Stacey, because without their near-magical powers, everything would take a lot more time and might not even get finished, especially when it’s 8:45 and we still have one, two or more pages to print, check and send to Austin. When the deadline looms over us, people get very intense. That’s not the time to tell the editor that there is a missing indefinite article or an extra word. I only look for the big stuff: messed up headlines or missing captions. The noisy squabbling of three kids seems an oasis of tranquillity compared to that last quarter hour getting the paper out.

It’s also interesting how people who were completing tasks at warp speed as the deadline approached suddenly slow down to normal right at 9 a.m. There isn’t a cheer or bell, but all of a sudden people converse with each other. They sit and sip coffee or pop. They relax and let the rest of the day unfold. The major task for the day is finished, and it’s only 9 a.m. I’ll miss this work, I think, but it’s time for the permanent replacement to take over.

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Notes from Home will be brought to you by a new voice for the next couple of weeks, while I am in Seattle visiting my brother. Mike Behrends, also a resident of rural Freeborn County (albeit a younger one), will be filling in for me. You can learn more about him next Tuesday.

David Behling is a rural Albert Lea resident. His column appears Tuesdays.