I swipe on my makeup, dry my hair and pull on a dress. Usually I go through a couple dresses before I find the one I feel like wearing for the day. Today is no different, as I try on one of my favorite purple dresses – than hang it back up because I realize it won’t be comfortable for a long day of sitting. I replace it with a sleeveless pink shirt and a pair of black pants. Glance at my watch – it is 1:57 p.m. Time to head to work. I go downstairs, grab a Diet Coke and plant kisses on each of my three children’s heads.
“Mommy’s going to work now, I love you, bye!” I call out, backpedaling and talking to our nanny with my eyes over their heads. After a week and a half she knows the drill.
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I walk upstairs and into my guest bedroom, which has become my home office / studio, close the door and take a deep breath. There is no commute time to transition from “mommy” to “journalist” – another small tidbit about working from home that I had never considered.
I slide behind my desk and take another few breaths, trying to reset my mentality. Then I take two steps forward, power on the lights, flip the camera on, a long press on the button that transmits my signal back to WRAL (called a LiveU), twist my body oddly to take two backwards steps over the cords and cables covering my floor and sit back down.
It is 2:15 p.m., and I am officially at work.
Monday was my first day co-anchoring a full newscast. Last week, I did a little bit more each day as we worked out some of the kinks with the lighting and internet signal, but Debra Morgan and Gerald Owens did most of the heavy lifting. Monday was the real deal.
My stomach flips. I’m nervous but ready.
To say this is odd is a huge understatement, and I’m certainly not alone. Thousands if not millions of Americans are now finding ourselves adapting to the new normal, adjusting our daily routines, improvising to make meetings work. Instead of a 3 p.m. editorial meeting in our conference room, about 12 of us now jump on a Skype call. It’s jumpy and bumpy and jarring, but we are all making it work. Instead of breezing by my 4 p.m. producer’s desk to talk about the newscast on my way through the newsroom, I now intentionally call her to discuss any issues. I text Gerald – “Did you see C5? Check the language on that one. How are you buddy? Miss ya!”
It is so different. Gerald and I have always been a really great team. We genuinely like each other and have a blast every single day. Our desks are near each other, so we trade jokes and stories and ideas all day every day. I miss our routine – but now it happens over text. Again – it is different but we are making it work.
3:59 p.m.: I’ve called the station to make sure the shot is up. My microphone is working. I’m prepared and know the newscast backwards and forwards. But it is news and anything can happen. I plug in my IFB, which is the earpiece we wear on set. It is how producers and directors talk to us. I could use a cordless earbud, but quite frankly it is comforting to use a piece of equipment I’m used to wearing on the set. It makes it feel more “normal” and for the moment I’ll take it.
Five minutes into the 4 p.m. newscast I hear my producer say, “Toss it to the presser.” Gerald is reading a story but immediately stops and tells the audience we are going to a press conference from the state coronavirus task force that we’d been waiting for. We both take notes during the 30-minute presser (I don’t have to be standing next to him to know what he’s doing by now – that’s just what we do). When it ends, I wrap it up quickly and toss back to him.
It is like re-learning a dance … trying to figure out each other’s rhythm and cadence without actually being in the same room. It is strange and different … but a new kind of challenge I’m finding interesting to take on.
The news is awful. Minute after minute, hour after hour, fresh press releases and headlines reveal more horror and fear. As a journalist, it is my job to weed through the overload of information, discern facts from fears, and do what I can to give my community the tools it needs to survive this tidal wave.
I try to compartmentalize now more than ever. Because when I have to take a break to use the bathroom, or get a water, or grab dinner – I will step outside of this room and immediately be confronted with my other reality – three kids, a puppy and a husband. The kids don’t really know what’s going on, only that they can’t play with their friends. For the most part I want to keep it that way.
So, I compartmentalize, multiple times a day. And I’m starting to get used to it. I don’t have a choice. No one does.
Throughout the day, start to finish, I think about those on the front lines, those who are going into the heart of this crisis and risking their lives. I am unquestionably one of the lucky ones. I am at home, with my family, maybe going a little stir crazy but still working and safe and healthy. I am bowled over with gratitude for those who are leaving their homes to staff grocery stores, hospitals, police stations, fire stations, gas stations, pharmacies and other essential places. We are safe at home because they are risking their lives at work – and I don’t forget that for a second.
I’ll check in again soon. In the meantime, stay safe and stay healthy.