MANY years ago, just as I was about to have a Caesarean section, the anesthesiologist poised a long needle at my spine, and my obstetrician said: ”Be careful what you say in front of her. She’s a reporter.”
I assure you that at the time I didn’t have a notepad in hand, and my mind was far from work. Basically I was terrified about having my first child and of the size of that needle. I was far too intimidated to suggest that both doctors focus on their own work instead of mine. But it has since amazed me how we view other people’s professional lives.
By now I am used to sitting at dinner parties and in the middle of a discussion about someone else’s child being a bad sport in soccer, being asked, ”Are you writing this down?” No matter that I have a fork poised in midair, not a pencil. People evidently imagine that reporters are on duty 24/7 and that the most insignificant interchange will be recorded for posterity.