Why my new job is the shiz

N.B Seeing as I’ve had a new job for over a week this blog post shouldn’t come as a surprise. I’m just a bit lazy.

N. N. B Come payday, I vow to get Siany hammered on cocktails for sending me the job application in the first place. Thanks Sian! x

I have a job at a lovely company called Webjam in a lovely corner of London. Here’s why it’s the cat’s pyjamas:

  • I only work until 1pm, meaning I can visit exhibitions, shops and museums  during the afternoon. Or I can nap.
  • We get up to 15 different types of fruit delivered to our office.
  • The room is a lovely temperature.
  • I won’t get laughed at for putting serious thought into what web browser I use.
  • Ditto Twitter client.
  • No-one minds when I bother them persistently for help over Skype.
  • That is because they’re all lovely.

Five weeks, three magazines, one summer.

Last year in a rare spurt of organisation, I emailed over a dozen magazines about work experience with the aim to fill my July and August with internships. This meant that I’d be spending my entire summer working full-time for free. I didn’t really think the whole thing through. That said I’m glad that I let my ambition get in the way of common sense. Yes, I had no money and missed out on loads of summer fun (I haven’t had a proper holiday in two years) but the experience I gained was invaluable. My CV also looks rather awesome.

Seeing as I blog about everything nowadays, I thought it a good idea to do just that. But I’m also aware that certain things should be left unsaid – I don’t fancy getting sued. So I’m just going to do a brief overview of my three placements.

More! Magazine [two weeks]

I spent the night before my internship at more! poring over the last issue seeing as I hadn’t read a copy since…ever. My first few days in the office were spent trying to tell everyone apart; in their “on-trend” skinny jeans, blazers and bobbed hair some of the staff looked alarmingly similar. But despite my refusal to spend more than eight minutes deciding what to wear in the morning, I wasn’t shunned by them. In fact, everyone was rather lovely.

I blogged about my two weeks at more! here.

Shortlist [one week]

My Shortlist internship is proof that good things come from tweeting in bed at 10am.

They said this:

“We need an intern to help out in the Shortlist office for two weeks. DM for details”

And I said this:

“If I wasn’t interning at Time Out next week I’d *so* apply for that.”

Then they asked me if I wanted to come in for the week! As a friend said, “This is why you must never – NEVER – take you eyes off
Twitter. Srsly, why are you reading this right now? READ TWITTER!” Sage words.

Time Out [two weeks]

I actually worship Time Out so I was very excited about doing work experience there. I wasn’t disappointed. They really made an effort to give interns work related to their interests and experience; I was placed on the team producing material for students new to London. They let me scribble lots about places I like (and talked me through the edits they made to my writing), play around on Quark and visit art galleries. *And* they bought me a massive bar of Toblerone to say thank you. I heart them.

The ironic thing is that after getting all that valuable experience, I don’t think I want to work for a magazine. In the last year the amount of time I spend reading magazines and newspapers has dwindled to virtually nothing; I read blogs instead and I like working online. Call me a snob/geek, but it bothered me working in offices where people didn’t *seriously* think about what web browser to use. And who knows what state the industry will be once I finally graduate?

But I digress. I did some fun things, I did some boring things and I learnt a tonne. But I’m so glad it’s over – working for free sucks.

Stuff I don’t know about because I’m too young

day 37- Red by TheOnlyAnla.
day 37- Red by TheOnlyAnla.

Jelly shoes! I kind of remember them

One of the things that I love about my London friends is that they’re all a few years older than me. It means we go to cocktail bars instead of Wetherspoons and talk about literature instead of the telly. But it also means that I can’t add much to conversations about nostalgic reminisces simply because I’m too young. In my innocence I’d ask for a brief explanation, but a simple question like “what’s Funhouse?” is often greeted with a silent pause, a gasp and a “Man, I’m old.”

So to prevent people groaning when I say I was born in 1988 (“1988? That’s like a week ago!”) here’s the stuff I don’t know about because I’m too young – don’t say I didn’t warn you:

Corey Feldman. Indiana Jones. The original packaging for sherbet dib-dabs. Chicago (band, not musical). The twins from Funhouse. The Rocky Horror Show. The Milky Bar Kid advert. Cherryade at the school disco. Free Mandela. Pat Sharpe. Any John Hughes movie.

Alex’s Hangover Breakfast

My hangover breakfast consists of the following:

- 2 or 3 or 4 fish fingers (fried, not grilled)

- Tinned chopped tomatoes with lots of salt and black pepper

- Scrambled eggs with lots of salt and black pepper

- Buttered toast (wholegrain with real butter)

- Coke or orange juice

It’s something that I’ve cooked after every night out since I was about 17 and 90% of the time I feel much better afterwards. The good thing about this breakfast is that it’s much better for you than a greasy fry-up, but it does involve quite a few saucepans going on at the same time.

And that’s right, there’s no bacon. That’s because I don’t eat pork, but my pig-eating friends still love this breakfast. Anyway, everyone knows that fish and eggs are the best thing for a hangover. So there.

What should I do for my birthday?

In a couple of months (on November 19th, to be precise) I turn 21. I’m not usually mad about throwing parties – I haven’t had one since I turned 14 – and most of my birthday ‘gatherings’ since then involved my best friends, a scary film and homemade vodka jelly in my mum’s kitchen. Great fun they were too. But it’s my 21st and, seeing as I had a very quiet 18th, 19th and 20th, I think I should do something involving more than 10 people.

I’ve already asked the Twitter hive mind for suggestions and there were some really good ones. But I think I know what I want to do and it involves the following:

  1. People who I like
  2. Tipsiness (preferably of the champagne variety)
  3. High heels and a pretty dress
  4. A very late night
  5. A nice place for us to chat

That sounds all well and good but there are a few problems, like the fact I can’t organise for toffee and OMGWHATIFNOBODYTURNSUPANDILOOKLIKEACOMPLETEIDIOT.

Let me explain.

I don’t know a great deal of people in the capital and I can’t expect my impoverished student friends to travel from their various Midland campuses to thatLondon for my sake (that’s fine, as I’ll be having a separate shindig in Derby). But I honestly don’t think I know and like enough people in London to fill out a room in a pub. There are around 20 people (at a push) who I’d want to see, and that’s not really enough for a party.

Now I’m confused again. Ideas on a postcard, please…

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