I am not exactly sure how to picture the executives in Denver who run the company which runs Examiner, but they must laugh at a miserable sow like me behind my back. Aggregating all these articles and reviews is real work for me, but with the commission I am receiving, I am little better off than I was trying to pretend I'm grateful to be a literary journal contributor. First, after popping my cherry on "how it works", I get derailed over newsworthiness. Editing on the cheap, despite having driven myself like an ox. I can't even fight with a Communications Director, talk with some live harried ferret who is probably receiving minimum wage. I "contact them," and get scheduled mail generated critiques. Then they can't love me enough. Then I chilled my heels because after 30 articles the commission barely buys me a coffee.
They have their administrative grief, struggling to meet the standards to stay in Google's news feed. This isn't my fault. I was a real journalist, but photography requires physical dexterity I have to leave to others, and unlike a respectable media outlet, Examiner doesn't partner an imagest with a content provider.
Now they're nagging me. I can't even lose my temper and have a good blow and quit. With every other journalistic enterprise, I had a contract. I once made 50 cents a word. Examiner is nothing more and nothing less than a vanity driven ass wiping exercise, and if I unsubscribe, throw a tantrum, they just reabsorb my estimated payment, and I wind up in negative number territory. Labor hours, lost productivity on what I'd rather be doing. This is all a fucking joke.
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