Sometimes, well actually more times than I care to admit, I’ve been having so much fun in London that I tend to forget that I still have homework to do. In my convergent media class, I had an assignment to write a story and interview people to get quotes. Doesn’t sound to hard now, does it? Umm…yeah right.
For my story I decided to interview British people about their point of view on the BP oil spill. In theory it wasn’t difficult. Step 1: go up to random person. Step 2: introduce myself as an American student journalist covering the BP oil spill for a class. Step 3: persuade them to let me ask them a few questions to get their opinion on the BP spill. Seemed pretty straight forward.
So, as I was sitting in Starbucks in the late afternoon, I started looking around for someone who looked approachable. That’s when I spotted this young guy who looked like he was in his early 20s sitting by himself. I rehearsed my intro a few times in my head, and tried to build up the courage to go over and talk to this complete stranger. After about ten minutes of psyching myself up, I finally was able to drag myself out of my comfy, safe lounge chair and approach the young man.
Me: “Hi, there. I’m a student journalist from America covering the BP oil spill. Would you mind if I ask you a couple questions?”
Him: -curtly-“Yes. Now is not a good time. Sorry.”
Strike one. Feeling dejected, I returned to my comfy chair. A few minutes later, an older woman comes into Starbucks and goes to sit down by the young guy. He got up and went in line. Great, another opportunity. This woman looked nice. I took a minute to mentally prepare myself for another go.
Me: “Excuse me, Hi. I’m a student journalist from America doing a story on the BP oil spill. Would you mind terribly if I ask you a few quick questions?”
Her: -sharply-“Can’t you see I just sat down? I’m meeting my son here and I just arrived. Sorry.”
I looked up and caught eyes with the young kid who I had just tried to interview and realized that this was his mother.
Strike two. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Now I was really feeling stupid. I had to get this story done by the next morning, and so far I had zilch.
Seeing I wasn’t getting anywhere at Starbucks, I decided to go back to the dorms and see if I could get any of the college students to talk to me. I walked into the courtyard and spotted a couple sitting on the stairs talking. Already I was batting 0 for 2, but I thought for sure the third time would be the charm. Again, I had to take a moment to gear myself up for my approach. As I approached, I heard them speaking in a foreign language. Uh oh. Not a great sign.
Me: “Hi. Do y’all speak English?”
Them: -suspiciously-“Yes.”
Me: “Oh wonderful! I’m a student journalist from America doing a story on the BP oil spill. Have you heard about it?”
Them: “Um, just a little.”
Me: “That’s okay. I was just wondering if I could ask you a few questions about your opinion on what’s going on. Would that be okay?”
Them: “Sure, I guess.”
Me: “Terrific. What do y’all think about the way BP is handling the oil spill and do you think they should be held fully responsible to clean up all the damage to the environment?”
Them: -silence. Blank stares-Uhhhmm…we don’t really understand.”
Me: “Oh. Sorry. Uhm…where are y’all from?”
Them: “Spain.”
Me: “Oh, cool! Are y’all here on vacation?”
Them: “No, we are here learning English.”
Me: -to myself: oh crap-“Oh, well thanks anyway. I really appreciate y’all trying to help me out.”
Strike 3=out.
Now I was feeling pretty frustrated. Interviewing people was really hard work. It’s not easy approaching complete strangers out of the blue and trying to get them to talk to you. Especially when there’s a language barrier. But I had to give it another go since my story was due the next day.
The next morning, I got up early to go back to Starbucks hoping to catch someone relaxing and enjoying a morning paper. I walked in and found a middle-aged lady who fit the bill. She was sitting by herself with a magazine and a cup of coffee in no apparent hurry. After half an hour on my computer doing some research for my story, I finally decided to talk to this lady.
I got up and walked over.
Me: “Hello.”
Her: -suspicious and stand-offish-“Yes. What do you want.”
Me: “Well, I’m a student journalist from America covering the BP oil spill and I was wondering if I could ask you---“
Her: “No. I’m very busy. I’m starting a new job today and I’m trying to finish this magazine before I go. Can’t you see I’m very stressed.”
This time I was getting really ticked. I went back to my chair to do some more research, feeling very irritated by the cold treatment I had just received. As I was doing my research I noticed that that lady did not move from her table. For over an hour she sat there reading her magazine and sipping her coffee. A friend even came and sat down with her for a few minutes. Now I was really pissed. All I needed was a two minute interview, and no one was willing to talk.
By this time, my deadline was fast approaching and I still had virtually nothing to write about. I can’t even put into words how stressed I was getting. But as pissed as I was, I really could understand how these people felt. I know I hate when people approach me out of the blue and start asking me questions. My parents always taught me never to talk to strangers. I was great at ignoring interviews and giving the cold shoulder, but to be on the receiving end of that kind of treatment was aggravating when I had a big story deadline looming on the near horizon. Just as I was about to throw in the towel, I remembered something—the pub.
What better place to get interviews than at the corner pub. It was perfect! In London, people flock to the pub after work to unwind with a beer and socialize. If I waited until after work when people had a few drinks in them, they would probably be very willing to talk. The thought of this gave me hope that I could still get my interviews and pull this story off.
That evening I went down to the pub which was bustling with people hanging around talking, eating, drinking, and laughing. I spotted a group of people hanging around outside. Okay, here goes, I thought. I can do this. This time, I will get the interview.
Me: “Hi, I’m a student journalist from America doing a story on the BP oil spill, and I would love to get your opinion on the matter. Could I ask y’all a few quick questions?”
Them: -laughing-“Y’all??? You really say ‘y’all’? Sure, ask away!”
Jackpot! Finally, finally I had found a group of people who not only were willing to talk to me, but actually happened to be in the oil business and know a lot about the story. They talked to me for almost twenty minute and gave me tons of great information for my story. I was so relieved! I had persevered through the rudeness, language barriers, and general aggravation of talking to strangers to finally get some awesome info. Mission accomplished. Yay.
But I discovered just how hard it is to interview people and that I absolutely LOATHE it. Sure makes you appreciate those who do it for a living and have the guts to ask the really tough questions. I guess I need to work on this area a lot more. Afterall the more you practice something the easier it gets.
So til next time,
Cheers Y’all.
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