It's a learning experience

The editor and publisher of the paper I was working for asked me why my title was assistant editor.

"I'm the editor," he said. "You aren't my assistant."

I was dumbstruck. I was working for him after all. If he didn't want my title to be assistant editor, shouldn't -- couldn't -- he change it?

I quit referring to myself as assistant editor after that, regardless of what my business card said. I functioned more like a city editor, so I started calling myself a city editor.

I was reminded of that today by seeing a posting for a job at the paper I worked for back then -- a posting for an assistant editor.

It surprised me for many reasons. One, is that a news posting for any news job in Oregon seems pretty amazing these days. But I was mostly surprised to see that the title was still the same, even all these years after I left. It was 15 years ago this month that I left that job on the Southern Oregon coast.

I was there a little more than two years. At the time, it felt like a lifetime. I made some good friends there though. Some of the people who were important back then in my personal and work life are still among my friend and several are among my Facebook contacts.

It was, as many people told me during my early career about work situations that were painful or difficult, a great learning experience. I hated the stress. I hated the rain. Perhaps that's why the bonds with the people were so long lasting. Enduring adversity together makes for strong bonds.

The news business has changed significantly since then. That paper, The World, in Coos Bay, has changed a lot too, including it's ownership, which has changed at least twice since my posting in the early-to-mid 1990s. According to the job listing, The World has gotten smaller too. It has lost about a third of the circulation it had back then.

The posting got me thinking about those days and those times. I'm glad I was there. It led me on to bigger and better things professionally. But I wouldn't want to go back. It's a smaller world after all.

Ode to a dream job

Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I wasn't a journalist. I used to be fond of saying, "I can always pump gas," based on my experience working for my dad when I was a teen. One of my jobs was servicing the airplanes, pickups and other rigs around the place. That involved pumping a lot of gas.

For a decade I had to stop saying "I can always pump gas," because it didn't make since to anyone in California when I lived there. California had self-service gas stations. Everyone pumped gas in California.

Now, I suppose, I could use the line again as a born-again Oregonian. I don't think my creditors would support the career change though.

But I may have found it. I have a new dream job.

I want to be a copy writer for Del Taco tray liners.

Seriously.

On my way home from work I decided to stop off for dinner someplace where I could get a taste of California. I have been eating at home primarily lately, and frankly, my cooking skills leave something to be desired. I needed a change. There is one Del Taco restaurant in Salem and it reminds me of SoCal. For several years I lived just a few miles down the road from Yermo, Calif., the birthplace of the Mexican fast food chain. Although, as I recall, Barstow tries to claim for Del Taco's founding. If you've ever been to Barstow, you'd understand the people there need to be known for something beyond being a piss stop between L.A. and Las Vegas.

I was never a big fan of Barstow, but I loved the California deserts. The Mojave, with it's Joshua trees, the Colorado, with it's palm trees and mountain vistas. And warm, no, HOT sun and dry air. It was nirvana, and I needed a little reminder of that Eden to start my weekend.

So there I was, enjoying my soft tacos and daydreaming about the desert when I look down and there, on thin paper lining a plastic tray, was my key to a new career aspiration.

Whoever wrote the "Ode to the Bold" as part of Del Taco's "Go Bold or Go Home" campaign may have the best job ever.

Here's an excerpt.

"Here's to the pioneers. ... To the first to look a bull in the eyes and say, 'Yea, I'm gonna ride that. And with one hand.' Here's to the uninhibited. ... The lovers that honor one another with tattoos, The streakers. And the mooners. Here's to the brave. To those who can't karaoke, but karaoke anyway. ... Or objected at a wedding that needed an objection (thank you, thank you, thank you). Here's to the rule-breakers. ... And all the 4s out thee who married a 10. Here's to you, our customers. ... For you are the bold."

Made me feel like a stud for just eating a taco. I'm glad a went for the Del Scorcho sauce.

If you are going to go bold, you have to go all the way.

I kept the tray liner. I'm thinking of having it framed.

I wonder if the tray liner writer job comes with any pirques, like free combo burritos?