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Opinion: We (still) have fun here

The possibility that our lives may change scares me
horace-and-eunice
Horace (left) and Eunice, the unofficial and not-at-all-upsetting mascots of Pique Newsmagazine.

Several years back, when Pique Newsmagazine and the Whistler Question were still two separate entities, and the world around us felt like a much different, somehow more stable place, we adopted a recurring phrase here in the newsroom.

It came about as we attempted to subtly convince a potential reporter of how cool and attractive our workplace was.

“We have fun here,” we told her, in a message accompanied by a short video of a small-scale, newsroom Nerf gun war.

The phrase stuck, even if it was often deployed ironically. But it was true.

In my 35 years on Earth I have worked a whole lotta terrible jobs, heartily disliking most. This is not one of them—and it’s because of the people.

Our little newsroom was weird and often out of step with perceptions of political correctness.

We cursed and called each other names; threw candy at each other’s mouths from across the room; hung photoshopped images on the walls next to our awards, and flying cats and year-round Christmas lights from the ceiling; adopted a mannequin body from the Re-Build-It Centre next door on a whim. Soon the mannequin had a horse mask for a head, and it was not uncommon for Horace (because what else do you name a mannequin with a horse head?) to sport a new outfit every other week. Eventually, someone added a female mannequin body to the display. We held a bake sale to fundraise for her head—a white unicorn.

Horace and Eunice, Pique’s unofficial mascots, have lived happily in the newsroom ever since, to the point that they’ve almost become part of the team—an odd-yet-endearing symbol of the punk-rock irreverence at play in the newsmagazine’s ethos.

Then COVID came along and changed everything.

There is one specific moment, about a month or so into our extended Work From Home days, when everything was awful and empty and uncertain, that will stick with me forever. I was laying on the couch in the middle of a lazy COVID afternoon when I was struck by the realization that what we once had was certainly gone forever—a most dismal and unceremonious end to the “good old days,” and proof positive that you truly don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.

Because our weird little newsroom went home one day and never really came back.

The pandemic proved a catalyst for many changes at Whistler’s community newspaper. We lost good staff, who were either temporarily laid off or left for new opportunities. We lost print advertisers, who left our pages and did not return. We changed from an all-hands-on-deck, paper-heavy production process to a streamlined, paperless endeavour carried out entirely on computer screens each week. To top it all off, our office was remodelled and reorganized to accommodate our new reality, so even the physical space we occupy was different coming out of the pandemic.

I’m reminded again of one of my favourite quotes from a Whistler local, upset over a development planned near their house: “The possibility that our lives may change scares me.”

Too relatable.

Change is not always easy, or welcomed, but it is an unflinching inevitability of life—and it doesn’t always have to mean doom and gloom, even if that’s how we might originally perceive it in the moment.

Because despite all the aforementioned changes our publication has undergone since COVID, the fundamentals remain solid—as evidenced by Pique’s showing at the 2023 Canadian Community Newspaper Awards, in which Whistler’s community paper was once again named the best in Canada in its circulation class.

As much as I’d like to take credit for the national recognition, it’s not that simple. Pique’s success is the product of a passionate, committed team—not just the one in place today, but those that came before as well.

I inherited an immaculately well-run ship from former editor Clare Ogilvie—the real driving force behind Pique’s current editorial accolades—from whom I also had the immense benefit of learning directly for seven years.

And Clare, in turn, took up the mantle from founding publisher and editor Kathy and Bob Barnett, whose trailblazing journalistic vision we have to thank for the unique structure of this publication—its personality, its attitude, and its design are what make it stand out in a (depressingly dwindling) sea of newsprint.

That legacy is carried on today not only by editorial, but by Pique’s amazing artists, designers, salespeople, and even its delivery drivers.

This week, Oct. 1 to 7, marks National Newspaper Week in Canada, so it’s not for nothing that we meditate on the business of local news—or change, for that matter.

Next week we say goodbye to reporter Megan Lalonde, who is moving home to Ontario after seven years with the Pique/Question team.

The relatively minimal turnover in our newsroom is a testament to the quality of the publication itself, but also the workplace culture we fostered for so long.

And yet, on a long enough timeline, change comes for absolutely everyone and everything.

So as familiar faces move on to tackle new opportunities, new names will move in to take their place.

Roisin Cullen, Pique’s Local Journalism Initiative reporter, is already doing great work up in Pemberton; you can expect to see another new byline in the pages of Pique in the weeks to come.

As with any period of change, you may notice some bumps in the road—I only ask for patience and understanding as we navigate this latest transition.

In the meantime, if you’re looking for ways to support local news during National Newspaper Week (and beyond), you can sign up for our newsletter at piquenewsmagazine.com/account/mailinglist; make a one-time or recurring donation; or, better yet, become a regular print advertiser in one of the best newspapers in the country. We hand-deliver close to 10,000 copies of this paper every single week—that’s a whole lotta tourists who will see your shiny new ad!

So, yes—change is coming for us all. No real sense being afraid of it, or lamenting the loss of the “good old days.” Best to just accept it and face it head-on.

At the end of the day, we still have fun here. We still do award-winning journalism here. And while the bylines may change, those two core tenets never will.