What I’m about to confess happened when I was starting out as a cub reporter. Even now, nearly eight years later, it’s hard to write about what I did, what I said. I should probably just pretend it never happened. But maybe it’ll serve as a cautionary tale to other cub journos.
I’ve sworn on television before. I dropped the F-bomb. Three times. In one sentence. On live television. Breakfast television. With children watching.
A proud career moment this definitely was not.
I didn’t even realise I was on air at the time. I was covering a flash flood that had hit the Gold Coast, and had just finished a live cross to the Today show. I’d just turned 23, was new to the show and live tv, and this had been a difficult cross. My earpiece had terrible feedback and I could hear myself on three second delay. Very off putting. I’d also been awake for 24 hours. I was tired and cranky.
After struggling through four and a half excruciating minutes of live tv, the sound director told me over a crackling earpiece that I was ‘clear’.
But my real misery was yet to come.
I wandered over to our tech, who was operating the link truck. We’d known each other for years and had a good, very blokey, rapport. He smiled grimly, as I started whining, exasperated…
‘Oh mate, we’ve gotta sort this f*@king earpiece out. I can’t f*@king hear myself f*@king think’.
He nodded sympathetically. He’d dropped a few choice swear words himself before the live cross. It’d been a stressful morning for everyone.
My phone suddenly rang. It was my Chief of Staff. ‘You’re in big trouble, young lady.’. Was I ever. Every word I said had gone to air.
I was mortified.
Viewers took to the Internet to unleash their viciousness. ‘That foul-mouth should publicly apologise for her expletive-ridden rant! What a waste of oxygen! Sack her!’