And so today was my final day…
The final chapter.
The dead end.
The last Rolo.
I purposely arrived fashionably late so as not to exceed my now established reputation.
On getting into the reception, I made a beeline for the pile of freshly printed Chase Posts to see my article starring up at me from the front page!
Ahh the buzz.
It’s better than sex!
…no really it is.
I arrived into the office to find a stranger in my swivly chair.
I had been replaced already and I had not yet finished my last day!
It turned out the stranger was an ‘Adam’, and a very friendly one at that. Apparently he does every Thursday at The Post while completing a NCTJ college course.
He even chatted to me about what kind of things he’d learnt and even gave me a short tutorial in shorthand, which was about as legible as hieroglyphics to me!
I suppose I could allow him the use of my swivly chair for a while…
I came bearing gifts (although I did consider eating them to myself on the sight that I had been ‘replaced’…But i’m too nice. I joke.)
I had purchased two boxes of Thorntons choccies and a card for the team to show my appreciation of their ‘taking me under their journalistic wing’ once again and giving me a super placement experience.
After the ritual ‘oh you shouldn’t have’ (while clutching onto the box for dear life), I soon settled down into an unfamiliar swivly chair, while the previous looked at me from the other end of the office.
I felt like i was committing some sort of chair adultery.
It was emotional..
I did get side-tracked for a momento, with a story a fellow work experience girl was doing about Kate Walsh slagging off the area she was born and bred (Cannock) in NOW magazine.
She was quoted as having said that she went to a ‘rough school’, and lived in an area where no one wanted or cared about furthering themselves both academically or occupationaly. Apparently there was no room for progression.
Tell that to Pritchard! (a local architect, worth about 500 billion, and who purchases a new Aston Martin every time he builds a new set of offices!)
Better yet, tell that to the legendary Fay Bray! (the love child of an Umpa-Lumpa and Jordan, and famous X-Factor contestant last year. [by ‘famous’, you understand I mean sang once and never made it any further!])
So pftttt! Take that Mrs!
I fart in your general direction.
Your mother was a hamster…
And your father smelt of elderberries!
After helping to track down what was apparently the only copy of that particular issue in the country, it was time for my food review in local bar, Bank.
I met up with my boyfriend who often takes advantage of the perks of dating a journalist, and we sat down at our specially reserved booth.
After scouring the menu, I opted for a Chicken Tikka wrap and a side portion of their award-winning chunky chips.
And believe me, they were chunky.
We’re talking Dawn French ‘chunky’, but they were most certainly a few sins!
I’m never going to Heaven.
Oh well, at least i’ll be going to Hell fat and contended.
Adam, on-the-other-hand, opted for a heaving all day brekkie.
Well, if it’s supposedly the most important meal of the day, why not eat it at lunch time aswell I say?!
Having stuffed my face with a free 2 course meal and drink, I rolled back to the office, where I proceeded to type up my findings and have a general chit-chat with Charlotte.
The time soon came around where it was apparent I should make a hasty exit before the school rush incurred a 20 minute tail-back from the island, in which time I would microwave in my car, and perspire more than Michael Jackson in a playground.
I bid my farewells, and warned them I may be back before they know it if my 3 week London placement didn’t happen.
As I walked out of the office for the final time, I pictured myself as one of the evicted on ‘Over The Rainbow’, where the loser is stripped of her sparkly slippers, before being cruelly hoisted up into the air on a cardboard moon, while she warbles ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’.
Except i had no sparkly slippers to hand back. In fact the only thing i handed in were my solitary two remaining articles…
And the only thing being ‘hoisted’ was my trousers, that I couldn’t wait to bin when I got home as they’d played havoc with my crotch. i.e. the crotch of them was round about my knees!