As a journalist, I can think back with stomach-knotting groans to the disasterous interviews I've had in my 25-year career. It is hard to forget the cantankerous, arrogant, controlling, seemingly psychologically damaged subjects and their abuse, treating me as if I were a bug that has crawled out of the wainscotting. Fortunately, of the thousands of people I have interviewed, they remain relatively few.

Usually the most bewildering part of receiving such abuse and disdain was that the subjects, or their PR agents, had actually sought out  the interview in the first place to promote some book, or show, or election campaign, or research study,  or product they were pushing. Helen Reddy was my first disaster - she was in Vancouver in 1982 singing a show with slow ticket sales and I was a 24-year-old summer student. Perhaps the fact the newspaper sent a junior reporter to interview her was proof how far her star had fallen. She knew the house was less than half sold and she took it out on me. I squirmed and gamely tried to pose questions thinking that if she might offer just one quoatable quote the last minute article might help spur sales. 

John Turner on his election campaign was another who seemed to delight in making me feel small and stupid and I was too young and inexperienced to try to take him on. But a few years later, when I had developed a respected beat as the Sun medical reporter, I wasn't so timid.  Once a noted surgeon at UBC had a new study to report and I went out to interview him. But he wouldn't let me ask a single question. He told me he would tell me what to write and began to dictate. What ensued was a 15-minute restrained but determined struggle for control between us.  At one point he said: "You just sit there and listen young lady. I will tell you all you need to know." That was it. I had enough. I got up and said: "I have decided. I won't be writing this story."  I turned and left. He phoned and complained to the Sun editors that afternoon, outraged about my unprofessional and arrogant conduct, but he was rude and condescending to my editors, too, and therefore I was vindicated.

All those horrible memories came back to me watching the interview that Jian Ghomeshi had with Billy Bob Thornton last week. If you haven't seen it, you must. It is about 13 minutes long, available through CBC's Q website, or all over Youtube or other blogger's posts. I won't link it here. Just google it and you will find it, hundreds of times.  It is impossible not to wince when watching or listening to it. You can see his bandmates wither, too. ( Gee, I wonder how long that band will stick together.)

Yet there is justice in the world.  It was a perfect example of  BBT cutting off his nose to spite his face. (Mothers who warn uncomprehending children about this self-defeating behaviour can now show them footage and say: "This is what we mean, dear. It is a very, very stupid thing to do.")

BBT comes off as a complete and utter arrogant jackass. And Jian, wow, Jian,  he is the cool, smart, hip and unruffled professional.  Canada's entire cred went up worldwide with that one display of intellectual integrity. I bet audience share rose, too -- and poster sales. He showed himself to be a journalist of the highest calibre - unruffled, professional, polite, honest, upfront and undeterred. If he is an example of Canada's unadorned potatoes, I can live on that dish.