Rising stress levels in hack and flak land

Last week The Times played a cruel trick on four of its hacks, one the commissioning editor is still cackling about (I know these people).

It asked them to take tests which would determine their biological, as opposed to their chronological, age

One healthy young woman is indeed just that. One bloke who should be a heart attack candidate is also basically fine – there is no justice.

And one 32 year-old, who by his own admission looks about 15, is shocked to discover that his body is really 62.

James Marriott’s own diagnosis? “I am pleased to report that I am a healthy weight, the consumer of a balanced diet, a heavy sleeper, a moderate drinker and an intermittent jogger. If my lifestyle has one flaw it is probably stress.”

Yep, that will be it.

For science editor Tom Whipple the news was worse still. A trim looking 42 who likes to go ice-climbing, he has a biological age of 71.

This doesn’t mean he is about to die, the doctors assure him. Just that he is basically already ill and is only going to get more so as he chronologically ages.

By chance, I had similar tests done myself when I turned 50 (nearly two years ago).

I’m ok, but the doc’s main verdict was this: your numbers read like every journalist your age I ever see. What does that job do to people?

I think the flak trade is less unhealthy than hackery, but I’m not so sure. The strains upon PRs look in some ways higher or at least different to those on journalists.

We get to tell people to get stuffed once in a while, which I have always found very relaxing.

PRs can’t really do that – they are abuse absorbtion machines.

Anecdotally, I hear of more and more flaks being signed off sick.

It’s progress that they feel able to say that they are not well.

In the hack trade, saying you need help is basically still seen by management as a sign that you can’t cut it, even if to colleagues it is plain as day that the hack needs an arm around the shoulder and some time off.

Two main things to learn from this.

1)    Don’t work for the features desk. Beneath that jolly exterior lurk hearts of pure darkness.

2)    Adverts for PR and journalism courses should carry the following disclaimer:

If you are lucky enough to get one of these highly sought after jobs, they will make you happy 25% of the time, miserable 25% of the time and ill nearly all of the time, whether you know it or not.