Temporary Ink
Yesterday, two members of the three folks who work on our insert crew were out of the office due to a rather nasty illness and for another, a funeral. As we have a limited budget (and few options sometimes), several of us went to the back and started stuffing papers. Now, in newspaper (especially small ones like us) inserts mean money.
Papers must be stuffed. Money pays the bills. I think you might be familiar with this concept.
So, with my sub-human superpowers, I proceeded to help (heck, the entire staff did at one point or another).I must say that it was actually quite enjoyable and we had gone to a new system to get the papers to the post office, so we all had to ponder on what it actually was that we were doing.
And after a couple of hours, the ink on my hands took a life of it’s own.
I miss that sometimes … opening up a paper still warm from the press and hauling out the wet-wipes to clean up afterwards. I know your paper’s worth the ink that gets on you reading it, though.
You are a dirty, dirty girl… heh heh.
Ah, battle scars.:-)
We used to have to do this at the Times-Gazette every single afternoon. Everyone from news and display advertising — except in later years, when advertising stopped participating. Anyway, when the new owners took over a few years ago they bought some sort of machine and the news department didn’t have to go back anymore.