SCOTT HOLLIFIELD / Stafford County Sun
Published: March 19, 2008

Oh, no, I thought. Here we go again.

The last time I tried to convince youngsters I was part of an exciting profession, I was a few tables away from a military recruiter who brought what appeared to be a deactivated rocket launcher. Guess who was a bigger hit-

"As we say around the newsroom, Billy, the pen is mightier than the deactivated rocket launcher. Billy- Come back. You can have a free pen!"

It made an amusing column back then, but I vowed never go to another career fair unless the company provided me with an actual, working rocket launcher to impress kids.

"Deactived- Not quite, Billy. As a small-town journalist, I come locked and loaded. See your bus over there- Well, champ, it looks like you'll be hoofing it for a while. Fire in the hole!"

Unfortunately, due to declining newspaper ad revenue and an overall downturn in the economy, my requisition for a rocket launcher was put on hold, as was my requisition for fire to put in the hole and the hole itself.

But elementary school guidance counselors are quite persuasive, so I found myself again - launcherless - at career fair. This year, to my lament, it was EXTREME CAREER FAIR.

Those of us relegated to indoor booths had to negotiate a parking lot filled with the aforementioned helicopter, a racecar, a fire truck, an ambulance, earth-moving equipment, a police motorcycle and a drug dog.

I brought my large, bound editions of newspapers from 1988 and 1973, so kids could laugh at the funny hairstyles, and a laptop that died 45 minutes into the five-hour event.

"Had I fully charged the battery you would now see a digital version of the front page of today's paper instead of just a dark screen. Billy- Come back. You can have a free pen!"

The first group of what would be 600 students entered the building. Obviously, these were the ones who were forced to go inside before being allowed to see the racecar and the helicopter. My first customer was a fifth-grade girl.

With as much enthusiasm as I could muster without a rocket launcher, I told her about my job. She nodded politely as I explained how de

declining newspaper ad revenue and an overall downturn in the economy had severely limited my presentation.

"That's interesting," she said when I finished.

But we were just going through the motions. We both knew she'd rather be petting the drug dog.

And so it went for five hours. There were lulls that allowed me to go outside and see the helicopter, but mostly it was answering questions from students before they moved on to something more exciting.

As before, the big,

hardbound editions of old newspapers did get a little attention and helped me salvage at least some self-esteem.

"What's that-"

"Old newspapers."

"Are they heavy-"

"Yeah, but I flew 'em in on my helicopter. I parked it out front."

"Nuh-uh. That's the Highway Patrol's."

"Oh, yeah. Mine's in the shop getting the rotors greased."

"Are these from all the way back in the '90s-"

"Older than that that even."

"Was there TV back when these were made-"

"Yes, but nothing quite as good as SpongeBob."

The last group of students eventually filed through, I packed up my old newspapers and dead laptop, walked through the parking lot and took one final look at the chopper and the racecar and the drug dog.

With a decline in newspaper ad revenues and general downturn in the economy, I thought, how's a working man like me ever going to make it without a rocket launcher-

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