I am never bored and that is entirely thanks to the Facebook group Roep u Maar (RuM). It is a meeting place for journalists making calls and potential interview candidates. A friend recommended the group to me when I was doing a piece for it Quote had to write about the disadvantages of a second home. I hardly knew anyone with a second home, so the group was a godsend. In response to my call, in which I wrote that I was concerned about the downside of such a house, I received many personal messages from people who owned a holiday home and wanted to tell me something about it.
So far so good, but then I got them on the phone. Yes, they did indeed have a second home, in Umbria or the Algarve, which was wonderful. The cons? Did the piece really have to be about that? That was a very difficult question, they simply didn’t have an answer to it. Yes, a house like that cost a bit, but it was worth every penny. Could I do something with that?
It turned out that people were happy to be in a magazine, as long as they decided how.
RuM only became really interesting when I stayed in the group as a spectator. It’s not the people who respond, but the calls themselves that are fascinating.
“Hi people, for a well-known national magazine I am looking for women (24 to 45, because of the target group) who would like to have a social life.”
“For a triptych in a weekly magazine I am looking for friends or relatives (25-45 years old) of someone who was once missing. It is important that the missing person is found again later.”
“Wanted for an interview in a weekly magazine for women: a woman who has been cured of cancer in recent years, who is now pregnant and will give birth in 2024. It will be a positive interview with photography.”
A certain Jennifer responds to that last call: “Of course it worked or did it require medical intervention?” The answer from the journalist who placed the call: “Both is allowed.”
Do you have or did you have a shitty life, and can we use that to sell magazines?
That method is quite understandable. Last year I saw that Coen Verbraak was writing a new article Volkskrantseries ‘Never the same again’, about the oncological surgeon who got cancer himself, or about the woman who had to arrange her husband’s funeral instead of their wedding, then that was also the first thing I read. Human interest, that’s what it’s called, but the dividing line between human interest and sensationalism is thin. Maybe that doesn’t matter much: there are people who, for various reasons, would like to tell their story and there are people who want to read it. Everyone satisfied.
And yet, when you look at RuM you cannot escape the impression that every form of suffering must be dealt with. RuM is currently in the end-of-year mood. A public broadcaster is looking for parents of a child who “set off fireworks with a painful outcome.” A major news site is looking for people who want to talk about a New Year’s Eve that they never want to experience again (“my New Year’s Eve from hell”), for example because “there was an accident with fireworks”, or for other reasons, it doesn’t matter. if only it was terrible. And then there is the monthly magazine that is looking for someone who celebrates New Year’s Eve completely alone. “Did your relationship end just before the holidays? Or would you like to spend New Year’s Eve with your friends, but are they busy with their own lives? Maybe you have lost a loved one this year, and you are in a festive mood.” Yes, or maybe all your loved ones died during Christmas dinner, just as you were standing in the kitchen. Just saying, we’d love to hear from you.
In any case, there is less to gain from RuM than it seems. The journalist who is still looking for lonely New Year’s Eve celebrants will soon receive people on the phone who will say: “I’m celebrating it with a lot of people, because I am incredibly popular and all my friends are still alive.” Can you do something with that too?”
Tessa Sparreboom is a Dutch specialist and former editor of Propria Cures.