Beginnings

The first thing you see at the office is a series of ‘what ifs’ hanging in the air. As I pushed open the door, the air currents pushed the air back to the airconditioner unit hanging over the office, as large as a university tutorial room. The feelers of the streamers screaming “Happy X’mas” arched backwards into a sine curve as the roots still held on to its renegade ends surrendering to the bristles of the cold air. I sat on the armchair waiting for Ms Alsright, the editor. Instead of letting it abduct my body into its ergonomic incline, I put half of my butt on the seat.

I could feel my thighs sweating under the blast of the air. No one seemed to have this problem, snuggled in their spiffy jackets, the computer screen enshrined in their eyes. No doubt they were rushing to beat the deadline. I would be different. My goal would be to meet the deadline. Not as daunting as it seemed. I had successfully done it twice consecutively. The first time was of course the piece I wrote accompanying my resume. I had no experience in writing at all, or any work experience for that matter. The most recent piece of writing was an exposition my third-year Human Resource lecturer demanded. I can’t remember the topic – it was three months back - but I could remember him commenting on the short length with a flip of the pages and a raised eyebrow and lowered lips. Anyway the past is past. I have redeemed myself with an extra piece of work done ahead of requirement. This I can remember clearly: it was an imaginary piece about the new top ten actresses on television. It got me the prized interview three days after I had emailed my application in.

I told May, unabashed TV fan who declares her love for celebrity couple Josh and Bria every alternate hour. How exciting it was! Imagine interviewing them! Those magazines never do justice to them. Why won’t they ask them the relevant questions? Instead of asking them if they were exploiting their ‘coming-out’ to coincide with their first big-screen foray, shouldn’t they ask about whether their holiday sojourn to Bali is an engagement trip? Or maybe the wedding itself? Oh gosh, why didn’t the press think of it?

May congratulated me on landing this job (“It’s just an interview, May.”) To her, there are no other better job than working for Star Weekly, the top (according to May) TV entertainment guide. A journalist (“Are you sure people won’t think of me as just a gossip writer?”)  has to stretch to the ends of her wits to unearth all those earthly bits about actors and actresses so that we mortals may take comfort that they drink Milo too. “This is the best thing you’ve done since I know you.” Trust her – she’s an authority on my life since our history dates back to those times in the diapers.

Anyway, I could see such adoration in her eyes for me in my new career – a first in our relationship - that only one word could describe (my new calling): Brilliant




“Less than brilliant, though,” Keith emphasized the last word with a cursory glance scanning my face before letting his eyes fall on my manuscript again. “Though I must say your story angle is not bad for a novice.” This time, he drawled the last word.  “But,” (unexpectedly stressing the beginning of his sentence), “it’s a big risk for us. You know, the training... We didn’t put in ‘2 years’ experience’ to take up ad space, you know. We have other applicants waiting in line so...”

“So Keith, I think we will give her an assignment to prove her mettle.”

I was grateful that Ms Alsright saved me from sinking into that wastepaper basket-load of oblivion.
Hello, Eve,” Ms Alsright jolted me out of crafting my memoirs in my head, thrusting her hand at my chest. “Welcome to the team.” Flitting between the tables arranged at different angles from one to the other, she rattled off my colleagues’ name. I tried to keep up with her while attaching each handshake with its owner’s tag. Almost instantaneously after a smile and handshake, they all twirled around and disappeared into their armchairs again in a well-rehearsed drill.

If Ms Alsright isn’t around? Would these people save me with their mentoring instinct? Would I live to write another day or spend another day writing resumes?