STRANGER THAN FICTION: SPEAKING TO STUDENTS NERVE-WRACKING EXPERIENCE

This profession has all kinds of fringe benefits that the general public doesn't know about. Really!

I'll be excommunicated from the Church of Newsprint for sharing the secret, but it's something I must do.

Our nicest fringe benefit is the press pass. That little gem will get you where you want to go, including into the male strip show at a local bar. The only trouble with using a press pass is that you actually have to do a little work once you get into the event.

A male co-worker and I went to the strip show to do a story on how the one-time event might compare with that controversial breast facility -- the politically correct term for it, I'm sure -- slated to open soon in Cape Girardeau.

"OK, let's get organized," the male co-worker said, trying not to look at all interested in the show. "I'll talk to the guys when they get off stage and you interview the women in the audience."

"Wait a second! What sense does that make?" I asked, looking VERY interested in the show.

"I think they would tell a man things about the job that they wouldn't tell you," he said.

The co-worker was right. The guys said a few derogatory things about women who go to see male strippers, and the women said a few things to me they wouldn't tell a man. Especially not if the women were sober.

But what does this have to do with the price of eggs? I'll tell you.

Another fringe benefit of being a journalist is having opportunities to warp the minds of the young reporters who will follow you. No sense making them wait until they actually get a job in the field!

So, every once in awhile, a teacher wants me to address her class about what I do for a living. This week it was a seventh-grade journalism class which asked not to be identified.

There is something about speaking to pre-teens and teen-agers that bothers me. Maybe it goes back to the days when I was one of them, already topping 6 feet at age 14. I got it all -- Jolly Green Giant, Lightpost, Treetop, Too Tall Jones, etc.

Now, as a 25-year-old professional, I could respond maturely to such remarks, saying something like, "Yo' momma!" But speaking to young people still makes me a little nervous.

I told the seventh-graders about my meteoric rise to success, which took me through Sikeston, Piedmont, Sikeston again and finally Cape Girardeau. I thought they were going to wet their collective pants with excitement over my poignant tale of love and desire for fame.

OK, not really. But they didn't dose off. I asked if anyone had any questions.

"Why didn't you write anything about Regina's House of Dolls?" a bright-eyed young lady asked. I know she's going to be a great reporter, because she said it with the connotation of "you spineless weenie."

Well, here it is, bright-eyed young lady: The idea of Regina's being here doesn't bother me; it doesn't thrill me, but it doesn't bother me. I don't have the physique to work there or the desire to drink there, so I'm not sure how it is going to affect my life.

The end.

Oh, almost forgot another fringe benefit of being a journalist. Another bright-eyed young lady asked me for advice about writing her column. She said her topic was going to be Valentine's Day without a love interest.

I think that's an excellent topic. Watch out for it in my next column, where it will be written from a 25-year-old's point of view.

Lesson one, seventh-graders: This is a dog-eat-dog business.

~Heidi Nieland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.