What I’m trying to say is that I hate fish. Hate ‘em. I don’t like the way they look, I don’t like the way they smell, I don’t like the way they taste. I don’t even like the word “fish”. So when my boss came to me and asked me to make a television promo for our fish story, I was less than optimistic.

No doubt, the story itself is incredible! If you didn’t catch it, click here and pay close attention. It’s well worth it.

I also ask you to watch it because I’m selfish. Last Monday, I spent nearly two hours locked in a garage at WCNC tossing raw dead fish into a bucket of ice just in the hopes of getting the perfect shot to entice you to watch.

The smell? Let’s just say if all of the runners from last month’s Boston Marathon ran into that garage and took their shoes off simultaneously, the smell wouldn’t be as bad as fish flesh slowly baking under a few camera lights.

Oh and it gets better. At one point in my quest for the perfect shot, I noticed that one of my fish was donning a strange, yellow jelly-like substance. No idea what it was. Tartar sauce perhaps? Well nonetheless, here I am scrubbing fish jam off a dead perch that’s never seen this level of pampering. Gee, would mom and dad have been proud their baby boy!

But despite the smell, despite the goo, once again my job surprised me. I actually had a pretty darn good time. Flingin’ fish wasn’t all bad. The story turned out great and hopefully the promo got some folks to tune in. Sure it wasn’t my favorite assignment of all time (that was when my boss asked me to watch Rocky and Bullwinkle for a spot I was working on. That’s another blog for another time).

So in the future you may not catch me with a giant yellow rain coat and a box full of fish sticks, but if the story calls for it, I’ll gladly give it a try.