The one-man-band's Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas,
and all thru the station,
the photogs were gone,
on permanent vacation.

Reporters all stared
at the equipment with fear,
and hoped a new job offer
soon would be near.

When out from the scanner
there arose such a clatter.
It was a big story,
one that truly would matter.

The reporter then loaded
the car she would drive.
The gear weighed one fifty,
she was just a buck-five.

She drove to the story,
and hoped things would jell,
one hand on the steering wheel,
the other on her cell.

It took her four trips
to set up the gear,
then she turned on her camera,
and cranked up the fear.

Was the video in focus?
Was the audio clear?
The interview subject
soon would be here.

Would her standup look good,
and the shot be in frame?
She did not want
to return looking lame.

The man started talking,
she pressed the red button.
The lights started flashing,
but then she got nothin'.

The levels weren't moving,
her camera stopped rolling,
the battery was dead,
the producer was calling.

"No Video! No Audio!
No B-Roll! No Nats!
This technical garbage
is driving me bats!"

She swapped out the battery
and answered the call.
Her mike gave out feedback,
her mike flag would fall.

She started to feel all stressed out and bitter,
as the producer reminded her about Facebook and Twitter.
Her camera was dead, her mike was still screaming,
she hoped against hope that she was just dreaming.

She started to tremble and kept on trying,
a photog looked over and thought she'd start crying.
He reached for her camera, and flipped just one switch,
then everything worked, without nary a hitch.

She smiled at the photog,
turned back to the story.
She'd ask a great question,
go home with some glory.

But the man had stopped talking,
he was no longer there.
She'd missed the whole story,
the cupboard was bare.

The photog came over,
gave her shoulders a rub.
He said, "Don't worry, kid,
I'll make you a dub."

"One person cannot
do the job of two.
It isn't your fault,
shooting is what I do."

He handed her the tape,
and wished her the best.
She gave him a hug,
felt a tug in her chest.

On that Christmas Eve,
as she watched the yule log,
the one gift she wanted
was a job with a photog.

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