First press briefing!

I went to my first press briefing today as a bonafide member of the New York press corps. It was a relatively laidback event, and not even something we would do a story on. I knew what it was about, but I took it pretty lightly, and sauntered over to the place which was just a few blocks from where I work.

I reached there and made it up to the room where the briefing was. Standing in the elevator, I realized there was another reporter in the elevator with me. As we introduced ourselves and said which magazines we were from, a wave of panic hit me. "OMG," I thought. "That magazine has sent a real reporter, and my magazine sent ME? The Rock should have come! What was he thinking!?!?!?"

I calmed down somewhat, but as each real reporter walked in, I sank just a little more in my chair. Then another wave of panic. "OMG, I have to ask questions at the end. I have to establish that I'm a serious journalist. The whole reputation of my magazine is at stake here. If I don't ask questions, they'll all think of my magazine as the one that sent that stupid intern who didn't know anything and didn't ask any questions."

I was convinced that I wouldn't even be able to follow the presentation, and in an attempt to avert such tragedy, I kept my eyes glued to the presenter, taking them off only to jot down notes, as if by boring my eyes into her, I could absorb what she was thinking and saying by sheer osmosis, if by nothing else. She finished her presentation, and I realized that I had understood most of what she'd been talking about -- maybe not to confidently write a story about it, if I had to, but in my mind her message was clear. I didn't ask questions, but neither did some of the other reporters there, so I felt a load lift -- if I wasn't the only one that didn't ask questions, then they wouldn't remember just me, I convinced myself.

Then came the dreaded socializing. I was tempted to just leave under the pretext of moving apartments in a couple of days and needed to pack, but forced myself to stay, telling myself sternly that I needed to make contacts. And I was hungry. So I helped myself to some food and drink and moved out onto the rooftop.

And I was pleasantly surprised to find the whole small talk thing much easier than I did about two years ago when I endured multiple excruciating social events, sometimes for days when I was covering conferences, feeling like a complete wallflower and wishing almost without exception that I could disappear. I am still not very good in group situations, but I realized that I wasn't questioning myself a dozen times before making a simple comment or contributing to the general flow of the conversation. I even stayed longer than I'd intended to!

So, my first press briefing went pretty well. And I realized that, while in moments of panic, I might question my decision to leave a mediocre job in London, where I was, nevertheless, happy and move to New York, doing so did give me opportunities I'd never have had -- because now, I am a very tiny fish in a huge pond, nay, in an ocean, but better that than to be a big fish, even the ONLY fish, in a tiny pond. Because a big fish in a tiny pond isn't going anywhere unless it leaves the pond, but a tiny fish in an ocean has plenty of room to grow.