David Carr of The New York Times business desk writes on the Dealbook blog what it’s like to be a business journalist trying to cover the exclusive Sun Valley media conference going on this week.
Carr wrote, “I am on site, banished to condos of Sun Valley where there is not a wisp of action. To even effect a ‘chance’ meeting, I have to get on a bike and go over to the Inn or the Lodge and ‘bump into’ all manner of media barons. It is an incredibly craven, content-free activity, and if I am any good at it, it will speak less to my enterprise and more to some massive failing in my character.
“On the night before the conclaves — none of which reporters attend — begin, I have a few large questions rise before me.
“Most importantly: Can I wear shorts, or do I have to go with the big-boy pants? It is hotter than Alabama asphalt here and I’d just as soon go sporty, but perhaps the sight of my pasty-faced legs will suggest to my potential targets that I not only lack seriousness, but apparently could use a little more time in spinning class. Any advice, feel free to e-mail me here.
“Also important: Having booked my flight late and badly, I had to come through LAX, over the windmill and through the clown’s mouth. For the way back on Friday, I am angling for a triumphant, Bartiromo-style return — just me and some media overlord on a Gulfstream bumping knees during a quick, direct flight to Teterboro. The question — I’m hoping my bosses aren’t reading very closely — is clear: If I get lucky, can I accept the flight, pay retail, and keep both my dignity and my job?”
OLD Media Moves
A biz writer in Sun Valley wearing shorts
July 11, 2007
Posted by Chris Roush
David Carr of The New York Times business desk writes on the Dealbook blog what it’s like to be a business journalist trying to cover the exclusive Sun Valley media conference going on this week.
Carr wrote, “I am on site, banished to condos of Sun Valley where there is not a wisp of action. To even effect a ‘chance’ meeting, I have to get on a bike and go over to the Inn or the Lodge and ‘bump into’ all manner of media barons. It is an incredibly craven, content-free activity, and if I am any good at it, it will speak less to my enterprise and more to some massive failing in my character.
“On the night before the conclaves — none of which reporters attend — begin, I have a few large questions rise before me.
“Most importantly: Can I wear shorts, or do I have to go with the big-boy pants? It is hotter than Alabama asphalt here and I’d just as soon go sporty, but perhaps the sight of my pasty-faced legs will suggest to my potential targets that I not only lack seriousness, but apparently could use a little more time in spinning class. Any advice, feel free to e-mail me here.
“Also important: Having booked my flight late and badly, I had to come through LAX, over the windmill and through the clown’s mouth. For the way back on Friday, I am angling for a triumphant, Bartiromo-style return — just me and some media overlord on a Gulfstream bumping knees during a quick, direct flight to Teterboro. The question — I’m hoping my bosses aren’t reading very closely — is clear: If I get lucky, can I accept the flight, pay retail, and keep both my dignity and my job?”
Read more here.
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