Up the Mountain: Part III, The Expert That Came Through

So here I am back at the bottom.

All of UGA won’t email me back, and yes that includes both the school of social work and counseling, except for the one guy from the Gwinnett campus who never followed up when I responded back. And oh yes, I also emailed professors from both Georgia State and Georgia Southern. I guess no one was intrigued enough by my interest in “exploring barriers to accessing mental health services in rural areas.” I did a quick literature search, but couldn’t find any recent articles; the professors and doctors seemed to have retired or disappeared into the ether since the publications.

I’ve got nothing it feels. Amanda’s certainly not enough. So I do another search, on one of my most invaluable reporter’s tool-– google. I find the Georgia Rural Health Association. I’m no longer laid out flat. I’m sitting up a bit. I call the office, and I explain who I am and ask if there is anyone who would be willing to talk to me about blah blah blah, hopefully you know what I’m working on by part III.

“Yes, that would be the executive director,” the lady on the phone says. Hmmm, I think, do executive directors really talk to you?

“She’s working on a grant that’s due Friday right now, so if she’s doesn’t call you back then give her a call in a few days.” My draft deadline is tomorrow, but so many experts have brushed me off, that really I’m just going through the motions. And plus the economy is bad and everybody knows funding is being cut, so go get that money Ms. Executive Director. I’ve started to get comfortable down here at the bottom.

But I ask for her email address anyway, because that’s what you do, right? You follow-up, attempt to reach people through multiple methods. I send a quick email identical to the message I left over the phone.

It couldn’t have been more than 2 hours before she emailed me back this simple, yet beautiful question, “When’s your deadline?” Nothing else, not even a signature.

I carefully craft an email back, explaining that I have a draft deadline tomorrow morning. Yes, it’s just a draft. But I had nothing besides Amanda. With that, all I would have had on my paper would be a giant TK, the reporter’s notation meaning “to come.” I was still chasing my entire story! But my urgency need not be her urgency. My values tell me to not expect anyone to inconvenience themselves on my behalf. I detail a few questions, asking her to give me a couple of paragraphs in a conversational tone (or how ever much she has time for), always the last resort for interviews. But I figure that this would get me started and I could schedule a follow-up phone interview later to fill in the holes.

My phone rings a few hours later. “This is Marona speaking,” I’ve learned to answer since I started giving out my business cards to what seems like everybody in the world.

“This is Katherine Cummings from Georgia Rural Health Association,” says the caller. What? I’m caught off guard. It takes me a second, before I get it together enough to thank her for calling me and to go into it’s-time-to-get-what-you-want mode.

“I don’t even have time to write an email,” she says. “I’ve just spent the whole morning out of town.” She’s venting, but I have no complaints. After all, she’s called me back so promptly.

“Well do you have a few minutes right now?” I ask. “It won’t take more than about 10 minutes.”

She agrees. I don’t have to work very hard, because once again, she’s calling me. I ask her if she wouldn’t mind giving me a minute to put her on speakerphone record the interview, explaining that it would speed it up. A minute passes. I can’t get my recorder to work! Technical difficulties right now? Is this really necessary, I ask Mr. Recorder. But yes, the show must go on.

She’s talking. I’m sorting through the most crucial questions. I’m writing. She’s talking. I’m thinking about what to ask next. I’m writing. I’m reminded of my short memory. I’m writing. It takes me a split second to realize my best option is to fix the recorder. I zone out for a crucial 45 seconds of my 10 minute interview that is already about a minute and a half under way. But finally Mr. Recorder begins to work and I capture the rest of the interview, with plans to do a more extensive interview.

Later as I begin to write, I find that from those 10 minutes (actually more like 8 if you subtract my recorder struggles), I have enough solid quotes for my article. I’ve hustled an interview with a willing expert, and maximized my 8 minutes.

Now I have Amanda and at least one solid expert witness. I’m inching my way back up.