Kishore Singh: Please call me also!

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For some weeks now, every time I come home from office, my wife asks, "So, did you get any calls?" I get many calls when I am at work, and many more when I am not, but these are not the calls my wife is referring to. For some time now, the fourth estate has been in a maelstrom of excitement. Those of you who read the headlines and not the bylines may not have noticed that the news is being reported by different names that disappear almost as soon as they appear on these pages.

With more magazines, newspapers and tabloids being launched, the only way to cobble together a team of journalists is by poaching on those that have existed for a while. And the only way to do it is to lure them away by offering them higher designations and more lucre.

So, a correspondent today could be a feature writer next week in a just-launched publication, a bureau head a fortnight later in a soon-to-be-launched paper, and might well return to the fold a month from now as resident editor.

All this is very well, but it's created a new caste system in offices, and between colleagues "" those that have got calls, and those that haven't! "I got two last week," reporters tell each other as they pass by in office corridors. "I got three," some might venture, while another looks crestfallen and sighs, "I got just one, and even that was only from the neighbourhood rag."

The haves fall into three categories "" those that succumb to temptation and turn in their resignations, those that decide to stay on (why?), and those who merely pretend they have received calls but have decided to stay on nonetheless.

But it is the have-nots who suffer the most, because they are either not good enough to be considered for hiring by other editors, or because they have been ignored for reasons that (to them) defy reason! Therefore, they pretend they have been at the receiving end of calls, but have decided not to move on for now. So, when they do receive a call, it is very embarrassing for them to say yes because they've already bragged about staying on "" so they do, even though no one believes they've been offered a job in the first place.

Meanwhile, rumours are rife. They're paying what for that office rookie? The person you thought nobody would hire turns out to be the first one to be picked up. The one you thought was the scribe you'd remain stuck with for the rest of your life, changes three jobs in as many months.

Over drinks at the Press Club, hacks compare salaries with skills, and can't understand why theirs adds up to a minus value, while everyone else seems to have gained plus value. When junior colleagues metamorphose into seniors at the next new publication, it's a bitter pill to swallow.

"Have you had any calls?" my wife asks me anxiously at the end of every day. "Oh, lots of them," I sigh defensively, even though I know what she's implying. "Don't worry," she says consolingly, "you'll get a call too!"

This morning, I hear my mobile buzz while in the shower, so I shout to my wife, "I've been expecting a call. Can you please answer the phone and say I'll call back in ten minutes." I can hear her when she says into the phone, "My husband is busy, but it's alright, you can talk to me about his job."

A moment's silence is followed by a shout of rage: "No," she says sharply as she slams the phone shut, "we don't want a personal loan." Perhaps she will stop asking me about calls from now on.