Not Quite 30-Love

#Doomsville, #LinzCrisis

#Doomsville, #LinzCrisis

I was thrilled to find myself in a press room sitting amongst these vibrant wordsmiths on tight deadlines, literally making the news we read. Except today social media was inventing the story as it went along and the journalists were desperately playing catch-up without straying too far into the abyss of ‘fake news’.

Brenda had not spoken to or looked at me on the interminable walk to the press room. Marine’s presence was a contributing factor. Brenda may have set me up, but anyone could see a Formula One seasoned pro like Marine was wide awake.

Brenda was itching to drop me in it. But she had instructions from Jane. No specifics on the breach of protocol re: scheduling posts, and no individuals mentioned. Jane knew that would drive the story even further. They needed to get rid of me quietly. A public hanging would only make them look worse. No doubt the WTA hierarchy in Florida considered scapegoating me. Social media’s take on that would be: new girl, first day on the job, not enough training. The WTA would look like arseholes or bullies. They had to stand united as a team of people who cared about everybody – stupid staff members included.

A reporter from Good Morning Linz stuck his camera and microphone in Brenda’s face. He asked her, ‘WTA Soziale Medien Fehler oder Absicht?’ Brenda said, ‘It was a mistake. A poorly scheduled post, designed only to celebrate our tennis players’ happiness at their graduations. The WTA post went out thirty minutes before the incident in Philadelphia, which proves it could only have been an error.’

The TV journalist indicated for the camera to be turned to his face. He spoke earnestly in German. I have no idea what he said, but Marine’s jaw relaxed as he spoke. The Germans and Austrians do love their facts – a small mercy for us at this point.

The questions came thick and fast and in many languages. I could only field the English ones. The journalists seemed fascinated with the fact it was only my second day on the job.

‘How does it feel to be in the middle of such a crisis on your second day?’ In the middle – I was the f*****g cause.

‘I’m proud to be a member of the WTA team. This mistake was unfortunate, but the true tragedy is the loss of innocent lives due to the violence perpetrated by a lone gunman. We must not forget the real crisis.’ This response was straight from the WTA’s playbook. I was not going to stray one word out of line today – or ever again.

We attempted to steer the media towards the full day of fantastic matches scheduled on the courts. No chance of that. Serena Williams could lose to a Donald Trump today and nobody would give a s**t. Luckily neither was playing.

**

It was about thirty minutes before the start of matches. We had yet to announce the minute of silence. Management believed it would appear more genuine if it hadn’t been dissected in the media beforehand. The gold dress ring on my right hand slipped and slid along my sweaty finger. Off my finger and into the pencil case it went. No chance of my hands drying up any time soon.