Today in Frank Bruni's blog, the New York Times restaurant critic analyzes the difficulties of his job. Actually, he points out that he's not complaining about the "job" itself, just the fucking people he has to deal with while trying to accomplish it.
I make those calls at whatever hour of the morning the reservation line opens. I hit redial if the line is busy, and I hit redial another 20 times if the situation doesn????????t change, and I feel the precious minutes of a life tick away. Such is the boundless, nonstop glamour of restaurant criticism.
So, there you have it journalism students and restaurant aficionados. Even if you try to escape being a "journalist" by taking some theater critic, music reviewer, or other such artsy beat, you will still have to make phone calls. And inevitably get put on hold, ignored, brushed aside, and unappreciated.
Hey, if Jennifer Aniston's acting career doesn't really work out (which at this point seems likely) maybe she should just try to become a restaurant critic for the LA Times or something? Oh, wait, that would require her eating something at some point. Never mind.
Sorry, Right Number [Frank Bruni, Diner's Journal]