UBERS BACKGROUND

CHECKS REVEALED TO
BE EVEN MORE
EXTENSIVE THAN WE
THOUGHT MONDAY,
AUGUST 3
Uber announces Monday
that a lack of stricter background
checks on drivers is due to the
fact that the process would be
Just too hard. CEO of Uber,
Travis Kalanick, admits that
since its launch in 2010, more
attention has been paid to how
Cool the app looks than how
safe the drivers are. Kalanick
was quick to point out that
although there is an absence of
background checks, he has a
team of highly trained
researchers devoted to hiring
only the best drivers. Intensive
care is taken when examining
the Facebook pages of each and
every applicant. For young
people these days, its all about
aesthetics, Kalanick goes on,
Thats why weve spent most
of our resources over the past
year choosing the right font - at
first the U in uber was just an
ordinary U, but now its
cooler looking. After checking
the app icon on my own smart
phone, the U is, in fact, pretty
cool. But, is it so cool that the

history and safety of the drivers

dont even matter? Yes says
Kalanick.

According to employee
and registered sex offender Kurt
Scott, the application process
can be Pretty hard. After
getting ahold of the online
application I can see what Kurt
meant. From questions like
How old are you? to Do you
own a car? its clear that the
application process can be
grueling. When I asked to see
Kurts drivers license he swiftly
withdrew and expired Wendys
gift certificate from his wallet
with a proud expression across
his face.

Acceptance Speech
My name is Evin Code and I am one of the senior editors at NBC.
Its an honor to be standing here today receiving the Walter Cronkite
award for excellence in journalism in front of my colleagues and others
who Ive looked up to in this career. I would like to thank our producer,
Subrata De, who followed me on all of those journeys to the far corners of the world.
Also Steve Capus the president of the number one nightly newscast on television who
upholds such high standards in the world of broadcasting. This award is intended for
those who play the most powerful role in informing and reconnecting the public to civic
life and with our audience consistently growing each week its clear that we are informing
the largest portion of America of the events they need to know. Though I cant take all the
credit for this prestigious award. My colleagues are nothing short of amazing; they each
bring a different set of skills to the table that contributes to the success of the entire
station. From my humble beginnings at a small newspaper in Fredericksburg Virginia, it
has been an incredible and arduous task to achieve the status I hold today. This award is
the highest honor I have earned thus far in my career or will ever earn in this field. My
name now stands amongst those of men and women I grew up wanting to be, thank you
for that.

Personal Essay
The once annoying bumps on the debris-strewn streets leading
into Palmyra fade out of consciousness as my head is filled with
thoughts of what is to come. This once magnificent place has become
a dismal shell of a city. The bus comes to a halt outside the Palmyra
hotel where Im scheduled to meet with Wyatt, who I met about two
years ago at a small newspaper company in Maryland where we were
both interning. I recognize him immediately upon walking through the
doors of the lobby despite an intense anxiousness almost acting as a
disguise. He stood next to a photographer that hed traveled with
here. His name was Max and was noticeably taller and lankier
compared to Wyatts stocky build. After a brief greeting, they informed
me that were waiting for a local man to guide us through the streets
and lead us on the safest route towards the site of the fighting that had
taken place just the day before between members of Isis attempting to
take the city and Syrian forces. After dropping off my luggage in our
room, I left the building with them equipped only with a Nikons, a voice
recorder and a pad and pen. The man was waiting for us outside of the
building and introduced himself only as Adnan and was eager to leave.
Between each obstructed alleyway I tried to fit in as many questions as
I could which Adnan only seemed to mutter bits of semantics in
response until I finally gave up. Abandoned cars and bicycles lined the

streets and sidewalks as if the owners had just vanished. Walking out
in the open was unsafe according to our guide so we mostly navigated
through shops and other apartment style buildings. The closer we got
to the center of the city the more signs of life there were. Adnan
warned that we should move slower to avoid making noise. Upon
opening the next door into a shop or house, the harsh ring of a childs
scream pounded against my eardrum. I ran in behind him to the sight
of a boy stumbling over his own feet running into another room. I
followed as Wyatt opened the door into the boy the boy had
disappeared into. Inside sat the boy, clutched in the arms of what
appeared to be an older brother. Their dirt stained cheeks glistened
with tears as I took a step toward the corner in which they sat. Adnan
said something in Arabic that seemed to calm them down until the
flashes of Maxs camera in the dark room startled them again. Adnan
began translating our questions to them. They were cousins who lived
together nearby with their parents until the invasion the day before.
The older one of the two did all of the talking as the younger boy
pressed his face against his chest. I handed them a bottle of water out
of my bag, which I could tell they desperately needed. After asking
what had happened to them I could tell what he was saying mustve
been terrible by his trembling voice and the tears that came with every
word he choked out. They awoke in their beds in the black of night to
shrieks of neighbors and the sound of gunfire. The entire family hid in

one of the bedrooms where they waited and prayed for the nightmare
to end. After waiting awhile the voices seized but the sounds of
gunshots persisted. They younger boys father stepped out to look
outside while a faint sound of footsteps grew into the stomping of
boots directly outside. Suddenly they heard the crack of the wooden
door slamming against to house followed by the young boys father
shouting for them to run. The two boys mothers demanded them to
climb out of a window and to keep running. Immediately after escaping
the house they heard a torrent of shots explode from inside of their
house accompanied by a fleeting wave of shouts from their loved ones.
The boys ran until the dust in the air permeated every corner of their
lungs and they found refuge in the building theyre in now. We left
them with as much water as we could afford to spare and set off
towards our destination even more apprehensive than when we began.