Our newspaper is, paradoxically enough, small enough that I frequently DO get overtime.<p>Here's an example of how it works: We have a four-person copy desk, with a part-timer who has no set schedule because she had a baby a few months ago. Two weeks ago on a Thursday, the situation was this: Rex, the desk chief, was pulled off the daily newspaper cycle by the publisher to work on our annual Winter Visitor's Guide tab. Henry, the second-in-command, was on vacation. Keri, who works next to me, was on the daily cycle but also had to spend the first half of her shift finishing the Food section and the TV Guide. I had the day off. Barbara, the part-timer, agreed to come in but couldn't get a baby-sitter till 6 p.m. (The shift usually starts around 2:30 p.m.). Rex, who controls the budget, at first says, "Well, we're just going to have to get by ... I'm already over budget. I'll jump in on the daily cycle in a pinch if I have to." Then around 7 p.m., everybody's swamped and way behind for the first color deadline of 9 p.m. Keri goes to Rex and says, "We need help NOW." Rex then decides he just can't jump off the Visitor's Guide, which also has a looming press deadline, and so calls me at home to ask if I'll work OT. But I'm at the movies when the call comes in, and when I get home at 8:30, there are four increasingly frantic messages on my voice mail. I call back and say, "Sure, I'll come in ... but for double-time, not time-and-a-half." Rex says, "Okay, okay ... just get in here, goddamit."<p>A variation of this happens virtually every day. This is just one snapshot of life in a journalistic M*A*S*H unit, where we sew up pages like war-torn bodies and ship 'em back out to the front lines as fast as we can with a tragically shorthanded staff. Is your newspaper anything like this?
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