Copyright 2019 Timothy Taylor
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Timothy Taylor dba Framed Expressions
Timtam_1@msn.com
Hey, buddy, if you don’t like my cigar smoke, feel free to kiss my ash! The words that sparked the beginning of Tim’s short career as a roving reporter. “No he did not;” retorted a fellow associate from the adjoining cubicle. You can’t make this stuff up, Tim said. The guy was a piece of work. Not one to shy away from confrontation, Tim responded with “good luck making friends with that nasty habit.” Well, if you avoid me because of my cigar smoke…mission accomplished. My circle of friends is pretty small. I love cigars and maybe like three other people.” Tim responded with, “You need to seek therapy.” “Who needs therapy? I self medicate with cigars;” said the man. Not wanting to continue this road to nowhere, Tim ended his time with the ogre of a guy and moved to another booth. This predated the non-smoking in public places law.
Having graduated from college with a Bachelor’s Degree in mass communications, Tim’s goal was to become the next big news anchor of a major news media outlet. With degree in hand and confidence bold as a lion, Tim strolled into the local media company in hopes of securing employment as a journalist. “We don’t have much use for novice reporters in this small town. They tend to dwell on the more gossipy stories,” said the owner. Not to be denied, Tim responded with “all gossip has a ring of truth to it. You just have to dig for it. That’s what great journalists are made of. Give me a chance and I’ll have this little town shutting down just to tune in to hear the news stories we report to them.”
Fine, said the owner. I’ll give you a chance to go out and secure a juicy story that proves you have the grit to be a part of our team. “You won’t regret it,” said Tim. With a smile big as a bowl of sunshine, Tim set out to etch his name in the annals of legendary anchormen. “Where to begin,” he said. Being in a small town, it didn’t take long to answer the rhetorical question. The local watering hole would suffice. It’s the spot where anyone from the influencers to the eccentric introverts converge to keep up with the happenings of the town. Tim’s theory didn’t disappoint. As he came to the local café, he approached the counter and ordered the soup of the day with a cup of coffee. As he waited for his order, wanting some solitude while considering his next move, Tim retired to a back booth to read the news. Not long after, he detected the stifling, smoky aroma that twisted his nose in an undeniable show of displeasure. Hey, Buddy, marked that infamous day.
Tim was open to any story from the ridiculous to the sublime; anything that would showcase his creativity. So as he finished his meal, he began to work the café in an attempt to drum up news worthy fodder. He came upon a guy sitting in another booth. He looked unassuming and Tim would’ve passed on by but he noticed the guy had on kneepads. Tim thought that a little strange. You tend not to see that kind of thing out of the ordinary. So he sat across from the guy, greeted him and started a little icebreaking small talk. “How’s the weather for ya, Tim said.” A little humid for my taste, but it’s the cost you pay to live in the South,” said the mystery man. “I hear ya. “Say, I’m a journalist looking for a down home, relatable story for the citizens. You know anyone who could give me the perfect scoop?” “I’m not perfect, but I am a flooring installer and that’s pretty much the same thing” laughed the guy. “But seriously, there’s not a whole lot of tongue wagging information that most folk don’t already know before it gets in public domain.” After a while, you start getting the same rehashed stuff with just enough unique spin added to pique curiosity until you realize that the story you’re hearing was originally started by yourself.” Tim laughed and asked, what goes for fun and newsworthy around these parts. “Family is everything around here, said the man.” No matter what you do, add your family status to it and that’s something people will listen to. For instance here’s something that will start a bragging fest that’ll last for ages. “I’m a Flooring Installer Dad, just like any other dad but cooler.” You’d be surprised how many people will pause and try to prove why their family and job status is better. Duly noted, Tim said as he said his goodbyes.
Go with family stories, huh. Tim was young and not ready for an exclusive relationship, so how would he relate to family life; let alone become a parent. The closest thing was his fur baby Endeavor. Tim gave him that name because once this canine set his sights on doing something, it was a done deal. How could I even think about family life if I can’t even subdue a 6 month lab and chow mix puppy. In an attempt to quell some of that resistance, Tim enrolled Endeavor into what he thought to be a respectable dog training class. He wanted to be able to use a few basic obedience commands to help calm Endeavor down. He came across a business that had a marquee on their building, “Dog Trainer, I make sit happen.” After speaking with the owner, Tim soon found out he had a thing for dog trainer puns. The owner handed him a business card that read, “Dog Trainer; call me when you need to get your sit together.” Perfect for what Tim wanted. Tim was so excited about having Endeavor trained that he offered to put an ad in the local newspaper to help get more traffic to the dog trainers’ business. He liked the play on words the owner used, so he stuck with that theme. His first motto was: “DOG TRAINER, CALL ME WHEN YOU NEED TO GET YOUR SIT TOGETHER.” The images he wanted to use were even more creative. They borrowed heavily on the existing marquee. He could choose one or all, but only one ad would be paid for by Tim.
However, Endeavor had other plans. He proved to be the undoing of the dog trainer’s doctrine and forever resisted their training. So, for now fatherhood was out of the question.
Undaunted by what looked to be a more tricky task than he originally thought, Tim decided to take a little breather and blow off some tension by going sprint car racing. That was his passion. Too bad he wasn’t as good as his ego thought he was. Nevertheless, Tim loved commandeering his powerful and fast sprint car. No matter what anyone said, just like his dog Endeavor, he was determined to excel as an amateur sprint car racer. So strong was his devotion to his sprint car racer dreams, that whenever he wrecked, the first thing out of his mouth was “is my sprint car okay?” Though his dreams of winning at sprint car racing eluded him, the encounter did give way to another idea to get an educational and out of this world story.
Tim had a couple of married friends who worked in the aerospace program in the town. Small towns attract businesses like that due to their out of the public’s eye status. They can work on hi-tech, secret data without the risk of too many prying eyes. Tim decided to see if this could be his big break. Science and space stuff has always intrigued the young and old alike. His aerospace engineer friends were more than happy to help Tim in his quest to impress his boss. So they gave him the tour of their workplace and all it entailed.
Tim’s response was, you’d have to be crazy to go into space. They responded in kind with, yes, a little crazy, but not so crazy when you have qualified professionals to plot your course. Jokingly, one said, “I’m an aerospace engineer. Crazy enough to blast you into space, smart enough to get you back.” Immediately the husband said: “I’m an aerospace engineer dad, just like any other dad only cooler.” Not to be undone, the wife came back with, “well, I’m an aerospace engineer mom, just like any other mom but cooler. Tim laughed and said, “I think I met your relative the flooring installer a little while ago. Tim asked how hard was it to get into aerospace engineering. His friend responded with, “Ah, to be an aerospace engineer; it’s not like it’s rocket science. Oh, wait, yes it is.” Tim gathered information, logged it for future use, told his friends they all need to get together for dinner and a movie and left to scan for more stories.
In hopes of inspiration, Tim went back to the news station thinking he could whet his appetite with an unfinished story that was pushed under a stack of more pressing news. “If you want to stand out in this business, you have to bring your own fire, Tim,” said the owner. Proving to be a little harder than you thought, huh?” “Not really,” Tim said. “As they say, check your source and recheck before reporting a story. I’m just following the path of the greats that went before me.” “Right,” said the owner sarcastically. I will tell you though, this town is forty eight percent male, so sporting news will always be a go to field. Just make sure the subject matter is unique and compelling.
Unique and compelling. Tim thought for a moment, and came up with the idea of interviewing his brother. He was into hang gliding. There you have it. A male and a sport. Tim’s brother was all too willing to get his sport in the limelight. Tim did his research online as he wanted to ask relevant questions and report on information that would hold the attention of fellow hang gliders as well as tickle the minds of onlookers. Unfortunately, Tim’s brother was equally un-wielding at hang gliding as he was at sprint car racing. Tim’s brother answered each question with ease; calming Tim’s fear of getting footage of his brother soaring through the air as he recorded the town from a bird’s eye view. True to form, his brother’s knowledge about hang gliding far outweighed his experience and he came crashing down in a cow pasture. Much to Tim’s relief, his brother was unscathed, however he couldn’t help but accept that he and his brother were genetically attached as he heard the scream “Is my glider okay” from his brother’s lips.
“Hang gliding is a little far fetched anyway,” Tim thought as he pondered toward a more suitable sport. How could I forget about the boating community. That’s the largest recreational sport club in the city.” Everybody and their cousin has a boat in this town and they’d jump at a chance to get exposure that puts them above their peers. So off Tim went to get his story. As expected, Tim could pick from the basic row boat to the high priced luxury yacht. It didn’t take long before Tim found his quarry. A just over middle aged gent with a penchant for yachts. Tim introduced himself and let the man know he’s a reporter for the local news media and he wanted to do a story on the boating community, specifically, him and his boat. Quickly, the man corrected Tim, “This is not a boat, it’s a finely sculpted sea craft fit for royalty.” Tim apologized and asked if he was interested in putting his yacht in the spotlight. The man jumped at the chance.
As any aloof owner, the man proudly regaled of his ancestral line of noble yacht owners and how he’s predisposed to be a great yacht man. He spoke of the materials used to build the craft, the power of the engine, the precise measurements of the navigational system and anything else that spoke of opulence. Finally, the man offered Tim an opportunity to take the yacht out for a spin. Though the man’s attitude and personality was off putting, Tim was eager to provide a story that would, if nothing else, fuel the disdain the commoners had for anyone who thought themselves above them. The sea trip began uneventful, yet, the yacht did perform as well as the mariner described it. As all braggers go, their egos are bigger than their sensibilities. With all the instrumentation aboard his yacht, the gentleman still suffered the same fate as another gargantuan ship from the past as his rudder and hull came in contact with the reef and met with a jolting halt. At that moment, the interview came to an abrupt end with the all too familiar statement, “Is my boat okay?” How the lofty have fallen. Tim began to wonder if sporting stories are worth the time considering the ominous risk of injury. What next? How about go karting for kids? “Is my go kart okay?” Surely roller skating is tame enough. Oh, no! “Are my skates okay?” The prevailing pattern, if nothing else, reveals that the gene pool in our little town is shallower than we think. With that note, Tim retired for the day.
With his deadline nearing for that juicy story, Tim decided to relieve the stress of searching by going night clubbing. He was quite the dancer. Whatever the music genre, Tim had the moves on the floor to answer its beat. Pair that with an awesome DJ and you have the perfect night on the town. Tim had such a good time at the club that he wanted to tip the DJ. Hey, buddy. You have a knack for the wheels of steel.” “Thanks” said the DJ. “This is a small town, but they do like to party, so I get my share of practice.” Tim said, “It must be a lot of practice, because your skills are impeccable.” “Yeah, I put in work to be good at my craft but I have to make time for the little one at home.” “Your wife?” “No, my kid.” “Wow’” said Tim. “A dad and a DJ” “Yeah, my namesake calls me DJ Dad. I would use it as a stage name if I didn’t think it would hurt me with the younger audience. Try this out for size: DJ dad, just like any other dad but cooler” “It has a certain ring to it,” said Tim. “Anyway, I was kind of stressed, but all this great music and dancing has mellowed me out. I’ll sleep real good tonight.” “The pleasure’s all mine. I’ll send the bill in the mail,” laughed the DJ. Tim left the DJ to his work and headed for home; but not before hearing drugged out partygoers in the VIP section singing, “Tis the season to be Molly or Tis the season to pop Molly.” That wasn’t his kind of party in any fashion, so as he left, he shook his head in disbelief over their audacity.
With Endeavor fed, taken out to relieve himself and put down for the night, it was Tim’s time for lights out. But first, he wanted to log his days’ progress or lack thereof on his VLOG site. It’s a way to vent as well as bounce ideas off the heads of his readers. Having shared his abysmal performance of the day with the net, he ended his video by saying, “Comfort food takes me to that quiet place where I can recharge and start fresh the next day, so I bid you ado as I self medicate with bacon. And resume in the morning, as I self medicate with coffee.” Little did he know that he touched a nerve that would change the trajectory of his career.
As promised, Tim held true to his quote, “I self medicate using bacon & I self medicate using coffee.” Having brushed of yesterday with a hardy breakfast, Tim headed out the door for work to begin another arduous day of searching for his big break story.
His cubicle pals didn’t spare any time and went in on him about his success with that juicy story. “Hey, Tim, you find that perfect scoop yet?” One turned to another colleague and said, John, don’t you collect stamps? That would make the perfect story. John came back with “I’m not perfect, but I am a stamp collector and that’s pretty much the same thing” as they howled with laughter. Tim, trying to hide his ire responded wittingly with “Stamp collecting; is that still a thing?” John, ever ready for a verbal battle came back with “It’s okay, stamp collecting is kind of a smart person’s hobby anyway.” With nervous laughter, Tim assured them he’d have the last laugh. He could never have known how right he was.
Tim’s boss was losing patience with his progress but admired his grit to hang in there. He had already made up his mind that he would keep Tim on whether he found a good story or not. Still, Tim’s boss wanted him to come to him and admit he couldn’t deliver on his promise. Tim’s boss knew the water hole that held that story had long since dried up in this town, so he pondered on a fit for his new employee. After much futile thought, Tim’s boss decided to go online and search for any social media presence that Tim may have had. While others did it looking for something negative, Tim’s boss was trying to see if Tim’s journalistic endeavors branched out over the internet.
And boy did they ever. Unbeknownst to either of them, the innocuous VLOG of the night before had developed a viral following of its own. Tim’s boss discovered that the last quirky quotes Tim stated before he signed off sparked a comfort food challenged by his readers. It started with a laugh by one of Tim’s viewers with a comment that went like this, “self medicate, huh? I self medicate with donuts. Frequently, I self medicate with chicken nuggets.” With that the shares and likes came in like a raging forest fire. The tagged was started to show what is the best comfort food to self medicate with. The next video posting led with “I self medicate using donuts, I self medicate using chicken nuggets, but I self medicate with chocolate, I self medicate with pizza.” Someone else shared it and began, I self medicate using pizza, I self medicate using chocolate, too. Then they came with their unique quote. “I self medicate with tacos, I self medicate with sriracha.” Each tag video had to start with repeating the last medicating comfort food and added with a new one. It went on like this as if you were reading a Dr. Seuss book. “I Self medicate using tacos, I self medicate using sriracha, too. How could something so childish gain an instant cult following overnight?
Not wanting to believe it, Tim’s boss left the VLOG site, went about his days’ work and took a late lunch. Upon returning, he logged back on only to find the tag alive and well. “I self medicate with pineapples, I self medicate with ice cream. I self medicate using pineapples, I self medicate using ice cream, too. I self medicate with oysters, I self medicate with cotton candy.” It was like an earwig on steroids. Whatever charmed Tim’s viewers, there was no stopping them.
Being an old schooler, Tim’s boss was somewhat hesitant about venturing onto the internet, but he knew it was the wave of the future and it looks as if Tim is unknowingly riding it like a pro surfer. If Tim could unwittingly come up with footage that consumed the thoughts of the public, it was a no-brainer to continue down this vein and hone his skills.
At the favorite watering hole, Tim was coming to the conclusion that the town no longer held any story that would catapult him to stardom, so he resolved to tell his boss he failed in this town, but maybe he could start a segment of reporting on neighboring cities. Tim hadn’t checked his on VLOG yet. It was just something he used to power down with at the end of the day. As he entered the news station, he first went to the restroom to practice in the mirror how he would engage his boss. Having nailed his response he headed to the boss’ office. He entered to seeing his boss look up, put a big smile on his face and walked towards him and put his hand on his shoulder.
Tim figured it was a gloat session about to happen. Little did he know that his days of a roving reporter were over before they started. Boss, I know it took me longer than expected to find that story, but… Tim’s boss stopped him in mid sentence with his own announcement. Tim, I have the perfect job for you. With the rest of the newsroom laughing at him, Tim thought the boss was going for the kill by telling him he could be the blow hard for the yacht club when the wind was calm. Instead, Tim’s boss hit him with the opportunity to head up a new department he was developing. Head Of Social Media. Head of social media? Tim was confused. “What do I know about social media, Tim scoffed. I have something like an online diary of sorts, but that’s the extent of my social media experience. Tim’s boss smiled and said, take a look at this.
“I medicate using pineapples, I medicate using cotton candy, too. I medicate with strawberries, I medicate with waffles.” It just kept on going. “What is this, said Tim” “It’s the start of your new career.” “What career. I’m going to be an anchorman.” “I don’t doubt that one day you’ll make a fine anchorman, but for now, a good journalist goes where the story takes him. Yes, this is a little strange. Who would’ve thought comfort food would spark an online sensation. I know cookbooks are evergreen, but comfort food ravings? Tim, the people have spoken. Get on this journey and see where it takes you.” “I don’t know boss, this is out of my league.” “Look, I know you weren’t prepared for this, so take the rest of the day off. Go home and sleep on it. We’ll talk again tomorrow.” Walking of confused, time shook his head and headed for the door.
Tim could think of nothing else. “How could an uninteresting VLOG set the course of my life?” As he turned in for the night, he signed on to upload his daily affairs. “I medicate using strawberries, I medicate using waffles, too. I medicate with chocolate chip cookies, I medicate with potato chips.” It wouldn’t stop. This night would prove to be a long a sleepless one. Confused, Tim was so outdone that he couldn’t concentrate so he chose not to upload anything and went to bed.
Shaken by yester night’s events, Tim regrouped himself and was determined to get himself and his boss back on the track of his journalistic aspirations. Now practicing in his home’s bathroom mirror, Tim lay out a scheme that would steer his boss’ intent back toward his dream of anchorman stardom. He planned on informing his boss of the fleeting nature of online fame and how he would be better suited for meatier news. As he formulated his plan, waves of confidence washed over him. Now to convince the boss.
On queue, Tim’s boss started in on his insistence of Tim accepting the previous mentioned offer. Tim responded with the fickle nature of the net and how online viewers would be on to something else in no time. The town may not have any big stories, but they still want variety. Tim’s boss asked him to log on to his VLOG from work. As he pulled the site up, Tim was right about the town wanting variety.
“I self medicate with DJing, I self medicate with sprint car racing, too. I self medicate with aerospace engineering, I self medicate with flooring installs, too. I self medicate with hang gliding, I self medicate with boating, too. I self medicate with stamp collecting, I self medicate with running, too. Stunned with mouths open, the VLOG morphed into different niches and genres of self medication puns. “It’s settled, you’re taking this position. It’s been bestowed upon you by your adoring public.” “I’ll make it easy for you. Your fans have given you opportunity to dive into each of these and pull a story out. You can go out and interview the ones who get the most likes on their idea to practice your roving journalism, but you have to take this position.”
With a look of utter amazement on their faces, Tim graciously accepted the position in the presence of his newsroom naysayers with his dreams of one day becoming that prestigious anchorman put on hold. No longer did he have to rove around for stories. The internet provided as many as he chose to cover.
Even though the internet gave Tim the freedom to source his information from online, he still enjoyed the company of face to face interaction. So he always frequented the local watering hole. As he sat checking his VLOG, he heard a familiar voice along with that unmistakable aroma. “Hey, buddy, I hear you drumming up stories over the internet. I would help you out with that but I’m kinda busy at the moment; cigars don’t smoke themselves you know.” At that, he turned, smiled and wondered where this exchange of words would take him now.