A Stairwell

I had invited Mark to the newsroom so he could encourage our writers about all the positives journalism has to offer.

Now, as he started to leave the room, I wanted to talk to him about the polar opposite.

So I followed him to the stairwell.

I had worked for Mark at the Detroit Free Press during my junior year, helping him cover the Michigan football team. He’s part of the reason I sought out an internship at USA TODAY.

But he had since retired from sports writing, and instead moved into a public relations role for a local school district.

As I asked him if he had five more minutes to spare, I knew this was my ultimate chance to receive some clarity.

Soon, five minutes turned to 15, 15 turned to 30.

I confessed every reservation that I’d kept bottled up inside me.

I hated USA TODAY.

The prospect of constantly traveling as a beat writer horrified me.

I wanted to be able to turn work off when I got home.

I didn’t know if the jobs were out there.

If they were, I didn’t want go to Alabama, or Wyoming, or Washington and work in a town no one has ever hear of to get them.

The pay wasn’t worth it, and the job wasn’t stable.

I wanted to be back home, no negotiation.

He paused. He told me all of my concerns were accurate.

Then he told me a story.

On Thanksgiving, he received a push notification on his phone. Jim Harbaugh had tweeted something. As he sat at the table, surrounded by family, he descended into a momentary panic, thinking he needed to go find his laptop on a national holiday and write a story about some coach’s social media as he had done countless times before.

Then relief set in. He didn’t work there anymore. He put his phone away.

And after that story he admitted something — he had never been this happy before.

He had time for his kids. He was making more money. And work stopped as soon as he walked into his house.

He told me to call him if I wanted any more advice.

I wasn’t so sure I needed to.