When I was in college, my dorm flooded.
Let me explain: the rain was so bad and the roof so shitty and the building so old that water was pouring in from ceilings and light sockets. The dorm had drop ceilings, and saturated tiles were plopping out onto the floor covered in mold—this clearly was not the first time this had happened.
My mom called the news after she saw my room and heard the school had no plans to assist students who’d just lost clothes, textbooks, computers, personal belongings, and more. She was as furious as we were.
The school refused to let media into the dorm “for student privacy” and had the president make a statement about how it was just a couple of disgruntled students and everything was fine.
This was before cameraphones, so they assumed that was that.
Their fatal mistake was in forgetting the initial complainant (i.e., ME) WAS A JOURNALISM MAJOR. First year, but that was still enough to know what basic information a news story needed.
My mom smuggled me a camcorder in a basket of laundry. I interviewed people from my floor and the floor above complete with “I consent to be on video for TV purposes” verbal disclaimers, showed the moldy tiles and water dripping out of lights and my own room three inches deep in water. One of my floormates heard what I was doing and called me into her room and said “you should get THAT” and showed me a power strip she needed to unplug because it was sparking and couldn’t unplug because it was in a puddle of water. (We eventually managed to find a pair of rubber gloves to pull the plug out of the very damp wall, but it was a great visual. “Nothing wrong” my ass.)
My mom took the tape to the news station. They used my footage with the president’s statement.
In under 48 hours, the college said that if you’d lost stuff due to the flood, you should contact Res Life for assistance.
In under two weeks they announced plans to build new dorms and retire my building.
Local. Journalism. Works.