by Rachel Pugh15. Shelby’s Tuesday Determination
On a late Tuesday afternoon, deadline day for the paper, one of our account executives decided to battle it out with our then-General Manager, Kristie Grier. They argued for a while in her office, and then he stormed through the office yelling, “I quit!” Stressed staff writer Shelby Rohwedder responded, “It’s Tuesday. Do you have your shit done first?”
14. Steve’s Pregnant Stomach
When my office was situated near Graphic Designer Steve Husted’s cube and Tuesday’s stresses would leave me feeling frazzled, I would often request “the stomach.” This would result in Steve standing outside my door and protruding his stomach just beyond the door’s frame, seeing what looked like a 4-months-along pregnant belly.
13. Michael G’s Burning Down Businesses
One Wednesday morning, I got a call from a restaurant in Scranton. The owner asked, “Rachel, do I need to bring the fire marshal to my place?” Confused, I checked his ad. The restaurant, which was now introducing French fries to its menu, stated this: “Don Tomaso’s — Best homefires in town!”
12. Planet Weekender
One year for the St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Scranton, the Weekender made a huge paper mache “planet” on a flat bed. Unfortunately, it was very windy that day and the entire “planet” lifted, blowing off the flatbed and rolling over the head of a little girl and hit a classic car. Kristie Grier gave the little girl a Weekender T-shirt as an apology.
11. Joe Student’s Sweet Scent of Bewilderment
Former Account Executive Tiffany Stine and I attended a business expo in Scranton. One of the businesses gave an air freshener, which smelled of rotting pine trees. We decided it would be a good idea to tie it to the bottom of former Editor Joe Student’s chair. He quietly sniffed around his desk and was confused by the awful smell he could not escape. Tiff and I sat in approval.
10. Mike Lello the Bear
This past Halloween, the staff had a party. One costume was a bear, a big brown bear worn by Weekender editor Mike Lello. The randomness of this giant bear suit served as a hilarious night of events, mainly involving a bear dancing around the club with a beer in his hand.
9. I hate Band-Aids
I have a serious phobia against Band-Aids. Several years ago I walked into my office to find a picture of me from the fifth grade placed in just about every corner I looked. What was the adhesive, you might ask? Band-Aids, some accented with ketchup, thanks to Damion Pick and John Popko.
8. Model of the Year Party Throw-Down
Then-Account Executive Katie Gross came running across the ballroom yelling my name. I ran back to the scene with her to see our then-Staff Writer Leslie Martin swinging in defense of an intoxicated guest. I kicked the drunk out and calmed Leslie down.
7. The Vomit Shield
After a promotion, Katie Gross and I decided to go out. My friend, who had drunk a bit too much, accompanied us. As I drove with friend riding shotgun and Katie in the back seat, I noticed my friend put the window down. Before I could ask if she needed me to pull over, I heard what sounded like rain. But it wasn’t. It was the sound of puke ricocheting off Katie who was shielding herself with my friend’s leopard-print coat. Luckily, Katie had gotten cold from the window being down.
6. Dirty Bands
On a late Tuesday night at the office, I got a call from our former Account Executive Jenelle Price who had just dropped off an ad proof to the Chicken Coop in Wilkes-Barre. She was laughing uncontrollably and relayed, “John from the Chicken Coop just called me. He said, ‘I think we have an error with the band’s name.’” The band Rub Yer Soul was to play that weekend, but Jenelle had difficulty reading John’s handwriting when he sent the ad. The proof he received? Saturday Night — Rub Yer Jock.
5. Tiff Takes on the 5-0
One St. Patrick’s Day Parade, we got a limo to take us to and from the parade. That meant a designated driver. As we gathered outside our designated area for departure, Tiffany was taking a phone call and standing in the road. A cop yelled at her telling her to move. Tiff answered with, “I’m on the phone. You’re being rude.”
4. AKS Laughs at the Ill
Just recently, I was walking through our parking lot and saw our music columnist Alan Stout. He was laughing hysterically while pointing at a group of people walking down the sidewalk pushing a baby carriage. He said, “See that girl? She was just walking, projectile vomited and just kept on walking. She didn’t skip a beat. The proof is over in the grass.” We have no idea what that was about.
3. Nikki’s Model of the Year Moments
Year 1: Staff writer Nikki disappears with Tiff and goes back to the room we reserved. Someone spills pizza sauce. When asked, I ultimately get blamed although I was nowhere near the room. Year 2: Nik disappears and goes home with her mom. Year 3: Getting giddy towards the end, she repeatedly asks, “Rachel, please don’t fire me.” I answered every time, “I won’t, Nik.” I’m still not sure why I would have.
2. Tiffany’s Motorcycle Ride
A couple of years ago, a bunch of Weekender employees were hanging out at the now-closed Club 77. Out of the corner of my eye, I see long red hair flying in the air. It belonged to Tiffany Stine and was flying in the wind because she was on the back of a mini motorcycle. That’s all I know.
1. My favorite — The Blue Football
Account Executive John Popko, former Graphic Designer Damion Pick and I used to be the last ones in the office. Religiously, Damion’s computer would crash, forcing him to take a break before it rebooted. To pass the time, he and John would toss around a mini blue football which would often end up in my office if one of them missed. I told them if the football landed in my office I was going to destroy it. Getting cocky, the two of them would purposely toss the football into my office. One night I prepared for it. I heard the tossing of the football begin, so I stood directly next to my door. As I predicted, the blue football came tumbling in. So I pounced on it — a full body tackle. Caught off guard, Damion panicked and instinctively jumped on the fumble as well, only I was underneath him. John stood on the sideline horrified. I possessed it, and so when the boys left, I cut it into tiny pieces and distributed it evenly over both of their chairs. The following night I heard another ball toss. It was the mini blue football, carefully super-glued back together by Damion.
Here’s to 15 more years of moments that should get us all fired. Work hard, play hard and keep all the memories tucked in a special back pocket. I’m grateful my pockets are full.
w
