I, have never actually worked this hard in my life. I don't remember working this hard at the money desk lor, although I was there for so long. (ok fine, 6 months is not THAT long in the great scheme of things. But it's actually pretty long considering..my life span.) Then, there was slightly less freedom, I suppose - I had to come in by a certain time (note, BY a certain time, not AT), and I had to account for where I was most of the time - but I don't recall having to be this responsible. I certainly don't recall thinking about my stories on the MRT, or brain-waving in taxis, or arm-twisting my father into helping out with contacts.
I also certainly don't remember running out from an event to take a call from some petulant MP, scribbling frantically into a notebook like one of those weird reporters. I don't recall having to come up with angles myself - those were always supplied by Ignatius. I don't recall having to actually do any kind of "legwork", or investigative-type things..all the information I needed used to be found in the press release.
Never needed to cajole people to talk to me; all those corp comms people are so nauseatingly eager-to-please.
Never needed to raise my voice at rude taxi company bosses; they were always so pleasant!
And certainly never needed to think about what angle to take on a butch named Ryan.
And I don't recall ever feeling so unequal to the task set before me as I do now. And to think the worst is yet to come! 100 cm down, about A THOUSAND MORE TO GO.
With an editor on leave, and no one really to moniter our comings and goings, one would think that life would be super slack. Unfortunately, it's more like being dropped into the deep end with your uhm, waterwings, somewhere in Australia.
And I'm treading water like a bitch.
