Putting together a newspaper is hard work. Articles have to be assigned, written, proofread, and fit into a layout, all within a matter of hours. And that’s not to mention the photos that must be captured, captioned, and placed. There are a lot of moving parts that must work together — if not flawlessly, then effectively enough to get the job done.
When you’re part of the sports department, which I was (many moons ago), the conveyor belt gets cranked up a few more notches, because most of the events being covered take place at night. If you’re a writer, that means you need to churn out stories — and check your facts — quickly in order to meet those tight deadlines. What it also means is that you better have some thick skin … or face the wrath of Mike.
Let me explain. At the Newark Star-Ledger, where I worked in the scholastic sports division, Mike compiled all of the articles and gave them a quick read before they reached the sports editor’s desk. And although he was primarily tasked with making sure the stats added up and all of the necessary components had been included (writers who are in a hurry can forget to add things like where the game was played, or the score — yes, for real), he had developed quite the editor’s eye over the years, and if your story didn’t flow, he’d throw it right back at you.
Sometimes literally.
On one occasion, I was pretty proud of myself for finishing my article on a football game with 15 minutes to spare, and so, being part of the ball-busters club that is a sports department, I gloated. The only problem was that I had made a mistake — a big one.
“Hey, hot shot?” Mike shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You might want to get the quarterback’s name right. You know, the one who threw 4 TD passes? Kind of important.”
I was mortified. In my haste to get finished, I had erroneously listed the QB as Carson Palmer — who at that time was with the Cincinnati Bengals (and not a northern NJ high school). I fixed it, this time going through the article with a fine-toothed comb to prevent any further admonishments. After it was approved and sent to the editor, Mike pulled me aside.
“Look, kid, everyone messes up, so don’t take it so hard. Besides, it’s a lot better for me to catch it than Pete.”
He was absolutely right. And although his delivery may not suit every workplace, he was very good at his job. After being called out in front of the whole staff, I was rarely flagged for so much as a minor typo. I had learned my lesson.
I thought about Mike when I was editing the interview we recently published with Chris Paravate, CIO at Northeast Georgia Health System, who talked about the concept of “unfiltered feedback.” He recalled a conversation with Allana Cummings (now CIO at Children’s Healthcare Atlanta), who had recruited him to NGHS, and ended up teaching him quite a bit about having tough conversations.
“You have to have a strong enough relationship with your leaders that they know you’re committed to them and they know that you care about them and you want them to be successful, but you’re not going to let them perform below what they’re capable of,” he said. “I think that’s what Allana was so exceptional at — being able to provide that type of feedback. Cummings once compared the relationships that leaders have with each other to a marriage, stressing that all parties need to be comfortable enough to offer criticism — as long as it’s done the right way.
And let’s face it, in a perfect world, critiques would always be doled out in a private setting, and done in a way that’s both professional and constructive. But in the world we live in, where there are deadlines and budgets and, in the case of CIOs, patient lives at stake, sometimes it needs to be unfiltered.
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