Offices that only a journalist could love

There is something inspiring about an ugly building. I don’t mean high-concept ugly, like the Brutalist tower, but a purely temporary and functional place, if barely any—the Meadowlands, the halls of the Knights of Columbus, your malls. These are pranks, however our Pranks. Among my dear dumps are old newsrooms. It was my first Trentoniana tabloid newspaper in New Jersey that is still going strong, although its former headquarters, where I used to work, now houses a gypsum supply company. It had thin carpet, old computers, and too much space for too few people, like Severance’s macro data optimization floor. Here was a building without pretense: tan brick, very few windows. The parking lot was surrounded by a barbed wire fence. It looks, I think, like a place where you could store plaster. It could have been worse. In the newspaper’s former building, the newsroom was located on the third floor, above where journalists boiled lead in barrels. It got so hot there that some reporters worked shirtless. A few blocks away on Perry Street was a competing newspaper, the… times Trenton. the Trentonian He hates times. the times It had a slightly larger building, with a larger sign, neon red, in the blocky gothic font of the logo. The building still exists. For a while it was a warehouse for concrete products.