Many editor teams have managing editors. Only one of them (ours) has Leyda. When the team first met Leyda, we noticed she was more of an introvert than anything else, but being an introvert has its perks. First of all, you can decide how much to open up, and if you’re resilient enough, your privacy will be thoroughly protected. Second, your sudden “friendly” workplace bullying of a certain section editor will carry four times more weight than if anybody else on the staff said it.
Leyda has a tendency to draw on the whiteboard and there are two things you can conclude upon seeing her results: she’s a talented artist, and she’s definitely popped a Grateful Dead teddy bear sticker on her tongue before. Although the latter is allegedly false, you can understand why I think otherwise. I have a right to keep my suspicions.
Do not let Leyda’s professional behavior and eloquent speaking fool you. She is very much aware of what is going on around the room. Yes, even when her eyes are locked in on a rough draft article like a praying mantis locked in on its next meal. How do I know? There is no humanly way you can deduce what type of work I’m doing at four in the morning based on whatever caffeine substance I was consuming at the time. Pair that with the audacity she has to say something akin to, “It’s elementary.” The end result? Insult to injury by implying you’re as predictable as a frat bro with an unattended case of White Claws.
Working alongside Leyda for practically a whole year has included the following:
Deep sighs and shrugs when you do something out of left field. Usually comparable to that of an aunt seeing her nephew experience a dumb fall that rides on the line between America’s funniest home videos and the six o’clock news.
“I can’t wait to see what ungodly time you post the article for edits.” For the record, it was indeed past two in the morning.
“Due to my psych class”
An uncanny knowledge on medieval weaponry, warfare, and torture.
A fight or flight response to the mention of Artificial Intelligence Art (it’s always fight, run.) You can counteract this by triggering her flight response with country music (use the blandest, boom-boom-clap beat-iest, most forced and fakest southern accent country possible).
“I don’t vibe with tambourines.”
I don’t really know what else to put in here besides that she’s perceptive and she’ll probably complain about my writing on this like usual since it’s technically not originally written in AP Style.
That’s it. That’s Leyda in a nutshell except the nutshell isn’t really a nutshell but an empanada I didn’t properly close or bake…
There is no nutshell.