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There are always new stories, new photos, new columns, new layouts, new headlines, new opportunities for something not to be the best it could be and new staff member scapegoats. We're always starting anew and we've got printed proof of it. We hold people amazingly accountable - someone didn't get that interview, missed a deadline or misspelled a name - whatever it was, you can count on not getting away with it. Drank too much over the weekend and did something stupid? Someone on staff knows about it, so now we all know about it and you're never going to live it down with us.
We pour so much of ourselves into this and take so much pride in our work; the inevitable shortcomings or missed opportunities don't go unnoticed. Unfortunately, we don't adequately acknowledge all the things that go right day after day and all the efforts that exceeded expectations.
For these same reasons, we also don't thank The Hatchet enough. Probably because we don't frequently feel compelled to say things like, "Thank you Hatchet, for keeping me up until 3 a.m." Or, "I really appreciate you, Hatchet. I would so much rather be spending time with you right now than accepting that invitation to have fun with my friends." We feel like The Hatchet owns us, and it's only natural to complain about your keeper. And although we tend to complain more than we compliment, each of us has a deep-seated dedication and admiration for this place. There's no other reasoning on the side of sanity that would keep us coming back. We just don't say "thank you" enough (I know I don't) or focus on what everyone does to make The Hatchet happen.
As graduation nears for us seniors, we're all forced to think more about what being here means. A few recent discussions with staff members at The Hatchet's G Street townhouse have given me an even greater appreciation for something I already feel indebted to. These discussions have centered around a mutual feeling of awe when posing the question: what do you do after leaving here? How do people fill the void in time and commitment when their time as a Hatchet staff member is over? Obviously, whatever post-graduation plans we have should come to mind. But, for some reason, it doesn't seem as though anything could compare. The only conclusion I've been able to muster up is that I'm going to need a hobby. And so I've decided I'm going to take up hip-hop dancing. Seriously.
