Par for the course in journalism:
"Yes, sure, I'd love to have you interview me. Let's meet at X date/time, at my place."
Things go well. Subject A - an internationally known politician - is chatty as all hell, but I keep the conversation on topic with the strength normally used to steer tugboats through hurricanes. And they always say a chatty interview is better than having to wring every single word out of someone.
At the interview's conclusion: "Oh, can you send me a copy of this?"
One of the maddening things about journalism in this country is that people often expect to get to see a copy of their interview for approval. If they don't approve it, we'll print it anyway, but with the disclosure that this is an "unauthorized" interview - yes, even if we have the entire thing recorded. We've uploaded .mp3s of interviews before for this very reason, but the hassle is so great that we usually just let them read the damn interview, if they ask.
"Sure, I'll send it over tonight."
Typing up the Q&A from the dictophone, I email it immediately, and receive a reply a few minutes later. "This is too long. Can you trim it some?"
Keep in mind this politician is expected to read legislation that can be upwards of 50,000 words, and I've just sent an 1,800 word interview. I trim it to 1,500, and send it back.
"This is still a little on the long side. Can you trim it some more?"
My response? "No. I'm dropping the interview. Best of luck in all your endeavors."
Now this politician has blanked us out, doesn't acknowledge me in the street, and still pretends to be "fighting for the people" and whatever.
I wish I could say this didn't happen often, but it does - people who need the publicity, even from journalists who are on their side, essentially biting the hand trying to feed them because of their own ego and vanity.
