The fledgling journo

Monday 29 June 2009

WHY I QUIT A NEW JOB AFTER 2.2 DAYS – A TRUE TALE IN 3 CHAPTERS

Chapter three: resigned to a speedy resignation

Of the three days, this was by far the best...
9am-11am: Having decided upon the course of action most beneficial to my mental state, I entered the office of doom, emailed my editor the classic ‘we need to talk’ message and endured a brief wait, before going for a painful (but thankfully, fairly brief) conversation with him, in which I told him I wanted to leave.
11am-11.05am: I was instructed to speak to the editor in chief about my resignation. He came hunting for me - a big hulking man, who probably eats babies for breakfast. He barked me into his office and then made me participate in an even more painful conversation with him.
11.06-11.07am: He told me to get my stuff and leave.
11.07-11.09am: I got my stuff and left.
11.09- ongoing: Overcome by a feeling of euphoria, freedom and rebelliousness. Employment schemployment.
The only downside to the day's dealings? The realisation that I had left a well-stocked lunchbox in the office of doom's fridge. Proof you can't have your cake and eat it too.

The moral of the story? Just because it's pretty much IMPOSSIBLE to get a job in these cash-strapped, gloom and doom times, that doesn't mean you should settle for a job you hate. Don't give up on finding something better. I left a job after less than three days, found another in less than a month and love what I'm doing now. Also, don't take a job you don't think you'll like. If you know you're not interested before you accept an offer, it's highly unlikely you'll discover an interest in it once you've signed on the dotted line. I knew I'd hate the job discussed above but took it because I was sick of being broke, sick of living at home, sick of borrowing money from long-suffering parents. If you've battled on this far, you can battle on a bit longer. Wait for something you actually want to do and keep yourself busy with other stuff in the meantime, anything, as long as you keep writing and don't take on a job that sucks up your soul, chews it up a bit, shreds it into little pieces and then spits it in to the gutter. Not to be over dramatic or anything.

WHY I QUIT A NEW JOB AFTER 2.2 DAYS – A TRUE TALE IN 3 CHAPTERS

Chapter two: shouting, students and 3000,000 unanswered questions

Day two saw a rise in both my productivity and heart-rate...
9am-10.57am (and then 10.57-11am): After a morning of reading incomprehensible emails, I had a news meeting from 10.30-10.57am (timings are crucial here, as you will see). At 10.57am, my editor said, "Sarah, write about the Moot in Vienna, it’s an easy one for you. Call the Head of the International Blah Blah Blah in the Middle-East and Africa and interview the team of students from Tunisia who are there competing. Just ask them about a few questions - how it’s going, what their hopes are etc. I said you'd call him at 11. It's 11 now. Call him. "
11am- the end of time: I had a minute to look at a Wikipedia entry on this competition. I had no idea. I then had to call this guy (in my silent office, by my silent desk of silent colleagues) and conduct an interview. The guys I spoke to had thick Tunisian accents. The phone kept cutting out. They asked me to repeat things. They asked me to shout. I shouted. It was awful.
The end of time – the end of dignity: I had to call them back sometime later (I lost track of time and my memory is still a little hazy from the PTSD) and repeat the entire process. Room still silent. Phone line still laughably (if this had been happening to another person, in another life) baaaad. Told by my editor to write up article by 4pm. No lunch break. Got it to him at 3.45pm, having spent the day in a manic, non-stop mode (I only realized this later in the day, when I heard myself actually GOBBLING instead of eating like a human being). Semi-happy with what I thought was a fairly decent first attempt.
The end of dignity – the end of my tether: My editor went away, read it, then got me to sit next to him as he fired about 3000,000 questions at me. The conversation went like so:
Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. Editor: What did they say about X? Me: I didn't ask them that. In a silent room.
The end of my tether – 6.39pm: I was then told to revise the article. No positive comments. I stayed til 6.50pm, again, everyone else had gone, just my magazine team there. In a rare moment of social outreach earlier that day, some guy had sent me an email inviting me to a welcome lunch. I replied saying I couldn't because I had a telephone interview, but could meet tomorrow. Another member of my magazine team emailed a reply saying I wouldn't be able to do lunch tomorrow because of briefings and put (I quote): 'very soon you will realise you only have a life on Tues and Thursdays.' I was there on Tues and I saw no sign of life, neither did I feel like I had one.
7.23pm: Missed my train home, bought a gigantic bar of Dairy Milk which I don’t even like, contemplated buying a Maccy D’s cheeseburger and decided to jump in front of a train. Cue five minutes looking around for a train to jump in front of. Owing to our shitty public transport system, they were all late/out of service/AWOL, meaning I had to accept extended time on the planet and the prospect of another tomorrow.

WHY I QUIT A NEW JOB AFTER 2.2 DAYS – A TRUE TALE IN 3 CHAPTERS

Chapter one: Silence, boredom and lumber prices

Day one - a lesson in human endurance and office-based despair...
9am-all day: Listening to the deafening, deathly, oppressive silence. I think I counted four words spoken in eight hours. Make that three actually - I think one was a sneeze.
12pm-5pm: Battling panic attacks about losing my vision, after attempting to read about arbitration. Stuff so dull I swear the words actually started leaping off the page, jumping, swimming and blurring before my bamboozled eyes.
12.05pm, 3.52pm, 4.07pm: Jumping in my (death-trap) chair at the rare sound of talking, only to slump back into a dazed depression as the words turned to lumber prices, expropriation, the ICSID, derivatives and, well I don’t even know what.
5pm-5.40pm: Watching the rest of the office trickle out between 5pm and 5.30pm, whilst my team continued to slave away over at their computers, having started before 9am. At least I was prepared for this (my editor had told me in a meeting that morning that: 'For some reason, our team always stay on later than everyone else.’) Hooray. I love being on the team that stays on unpaid later than everyone else.
6.30pm: Sent home 'early' because my colleague was too busy to show me the thing I was waiting to watch, which I’d already been shown earlier.
6.45-8pm: Train ride home. Notable only for my mood of doom and gloom and my sudden insight into suicidal and psychotic mental states. I didn’t even do pre-dinner food porn on the way home. That’s saying something.