Whenever the usual gang of Hong Kong media reps gets together—a handful of writers, editors and columnists—we start moaning about our respective jobs: the long hours, the bad pay, and the constant stress of looming deadlines. We swap stories about difficult clients, demanding bosses, publishers, and editors. Off the record, obviously.
We all have our tall tales (well, lengthy ones) about the more memorable characters we’ve encountered. Looking back at 2008—Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—how did any of us at Prive Asia survive that year?!
It’s been years, but whenever I reflect on one particular chapter of my career, I still shudder a little. On the plus side, that was where I first encountered the term “trauma bonding.” A group of us—writers, photographers, makeup artists, sub-editors, layout editors, and art directors—found ourselves bonding over the sheer intensity and unpredictability of the toxic environment.
Everything in life teaches you a lesson. I came away with seemingly infinite patience; every subsequent job and client felt like a breeze by comparison. The wildly chaotic atmosphere I experienced there was the kind that could fill an entire oral history on vanity publishing. I’ve reached out to several former colleagues to compare notes, and I’m slowly collating material for a longer feature piece. The first draft will, of course, go straight to the lawyers—as I like to say, I have a nut allergy.
It was tragic at the time; it’s oddly comical now. As the saying goes, tragedy plus time equals comedy.
To pilfer a quote from a sitcom; "Whenever my friends and I talk about who works for the craziest bitch, I always win."
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