The blue hue of the progress bar on sliggishly crawled on screen as the number ticked over to 67%. Early 2000’s community news room tech were still using USB 2.0 external drives to transfer footage. This didn’t bother editors much, gave them time to brew a coffee, have a smoke, engage in some idle chit chat with busier colleagues, usually distracting them from an important task - yet knowing their attention would mostly be unwanted, it was a brief few minutes of socialising before staring at the screen with muffler style headphones on for another few hours.

The producer was frantically tapping the end of their ballpoint pen on their notepad, this would go on for about 6 seconds, then they’d scribble some gibberish in what looked like a foreign language on the page, chew the end of the pen, then get back to the infernal tapping.

If the editor put his headphones on now it would seem rude, he didn’t care, but he knew it would be unprofessional to do so, even if this segment’s producer is the same one who complained about his last edit not having “enough effects”.

The hell does that even mean, “not enough effects”, this guy who does the lifestyle bit, wants more light flashes, 3D text and transitions for the same of transitions - I wish he’d transition his way out of my booth. These were the internal ramblings of the editor, too passive to say anything, too emotionally immature to confront the issue with a simple question.

“We’ve cutting it fine, we’re going to have to skip my intro, just use lower thirds to introduce me and lets get into the meat of the story, I’ve got all the time-codes for ingestion” - the producer demanded, progress was only at 68%, the software hadn’t even been loaded up yet - in these days you wouldn’t disrupt a file transfer out of fear of the machine crashing, corrupting the data on the drive and having to stare at Window’s synonymous blue screen of death.

“As soon as it done, I’ll double click and we can start, how long is the VT?” Asked the editor, mumbling as if half-expecting his colleague to have to ask him to repeat the question.

“1 minute 20, they’ve going to run the interview with the ambassador which cuts 40 seconds off my piece - at least I get second billing, better than yesterday where they dumped me last before the weather”. The producer heard him loud and clear and responded with a loudness as if he wanted to make the point he was dissatisfied with the way he had been treated the day before.

“You know if news pieces are more eye-catching they get better slots, you’re going to have to add more wipes, and make sure the quote is 3D”. Again it was his demanding attitude that was building tension in the room.

“I think the news order is by relevance and priority of story, not by how shiny it is”, the editor clapped back in a condescendingly honest way.

“Audiences don’t know what they want, thats why we’re here to give them packages that excite them - it’s all about the editing”, the producer didn’t want to turn this into argument, especially not since they had 12mins to turn this around.

The editor responded with “I don’t think it’s just the editing, it’s the story and whether it’s important enough for the audience to not switch channels, it’s also the shoot, the quality of the interview questions, and the framing on the story, so really it’s all about production - us editors can also polish a tur…tape so much”. The editor was trying to be quick witted but having bottled up these feelings for weeks now, was slowly revealing how he really felt.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’d rather be sitting next door, getting this cut by her, she’s faster, knows how to cut a good story, uses effects and graphics to compliment my work, but I don’t have a choice in who edits, and you don’t have a choice but to edit for the 6’o clock. Let’s just focus on the edit and get this aired”. The producer had hit him with some truths there, she was faster, she loved throwing effects and graphics on everything, but I guess that’s the general direction it’s all headed, but hey, that was kind of out of line to make a comparison like that.

“Listen, I’d rather be editing the weather today, rather than your puff piece promoting another fair or running a promo for a retailer, but fine we don’t need to talk, the sooner you’re out of here the better, I’m due a cigarette break after this”, said the editor, his voice becoming louder and incredibly clearer the more he spoke.

“You know they’re bad for you right, you’re wasting your time, and money on destroying your health”, the producer almost seemed concerned, until he finished his sentence “I don’t really care, but clearly smokers aren’t even selfish enough about themselves to stop, instead they’re selfish because they leave everywhere smelling like an ashtray”. He responded as he put the lid on his biro and stuck it into his satchel, then stared at the screen, avoiding eye contact, and witnessing the progress hitting 74%.

“I couldn’t care whether you cared or not”, muttered the editor, also avoiding eye contact.

This was to be the longest 10minutes of their day, once this stage was over it would be another 7minutes of quick cuts, dragging preset lower thirds, and applying a handful of Star Warsesque wipe transitions, and hitting export.

The good this is saving to the server took a few seconds, so they’d definitely make the news in time. However the way they’d started out, neither was sure they wouldn’t be walking out the room with an incoming disciplinary for saying something out of line to each other.

*Knock, Knock* a knuckle tapped on the door, and the head of the anchor popped in through the head size gap. “Hey guys, it’s her birthday today” he whispered, pointing to the wall behind them both, “can you two do me a solid and pick up a cake and some coffees once your piece is with play-out, we want to sing happy birthday the second we go to end card - take this and thanks guys”. He placed two £20s on the table and before they had settled on the table his head popped out and the door closed.

The evening was shaping up to be even more painful for the both of them. Another 10mins they’d have to spend together, and all for the editor next door, they were bound to have an argument on the way out or on the way back in with the cake.

What if they ended up dropping the cake, what if the machine crashes mid way through the edit - a rarity, which only happens when you really don’t want it to. But today was one of those days where neither of them wanted to be in the same place, at the same time together. Fate, the 6’o clock news and birthday cake had bound them in a tense existence, together, repressively holding back on how they really felt, but letting enough out to let the other person know they despised them. Over what? Wipe transitions and 3D text. this was the news. This is what the millennium had ushered in, passive aggressive arguments over technological enhancements to infotainment.

Little did they know this was just the beginning of a miserable future for news media and work place toxicity. They were pioneers. Miserable, millennial pioneers in steering the world into an ironically unnecessary and spiteful future.