A Lottery with International Consequences
How does a small Norwegian magazine become an international publication? Apparently, it starts with a yellow coffee mug, a lottery, an overworked journalist, and a coffee machine that finally agrees to cooperate.
Ulrikk clenched his jaw as tightly as he could to suppress a yawn. The result was an awkward grimace and a faint pop in each ear.
Ever since RABAGAS went international, there had been more double shifts and more nights spent on the editorial office's beanbag chair. He and the coffee machine had even reached a sort of agreement after the second day: if it behaved itself reasonably well, Ulrikk would stop ordering coffee deliveries to the office. These days the machine limited itself to a couple of complaining squeaks and a short hiss of steam when a cup was ready, and that was manageable for a journalist's budget.
It had been at the Monday editorial meeting, about ten days earlier, that Hampus decided RABAGAS Magazine should also be published in English.
It hadn't been an easy decision. It meant a considerable amount of extra work and a healthy dose of ridiculous responsibility that he had feared would steal time from the journalism itself. At the same time, no one could honestly claim it came as a surprise. The idea had been on the table for quite some time.
So the editorial staff held a lottery to decide who would become responsible for the international edition of RABAGAS Magazine.
Dag was automatically excluded since he was still banned from using any electronic service other than email. Jonas didn't get his name on one of the slips of paper placed inside the almost-clean yellow coffee mug they used as a ballot box either. The official explanation was his lack of seniority. Jonas didn't seem particularly bothered by it.
That left Ulrikk, Ragna and the boss himself, Hampus Fickelton.
The atmosphere around the table was surprisingly tense. To a dramatic finger drumroll from Jonas on the edge of the table, Dag was given the honour of drawing a folded yellow Post-it note from the yellow coffee mug.
It was Ulrikk.
Their already overworked jack-of-all-trades journalist was, to a triumphant fanfare performed entirely by Jonas, appointed Editor of RABAGAS International.
From that day on, Ulrikk barely saw his own bed.
But now something was finally beginning to happen.
The website was ready. The most important articles from the past six months had been translated into English. Everything had been linked, tagged and indexed.
Now they were ready to start publishing new stories—and to send them out to readers in far more places than just Norway.
Ulrikk opened the front page one last time and pressed Refresh.
It looked exactly as empty as it had five seconds earlier.
In a way, that was reassuring.
In just a few hours, it would become a global magazine.
