The residues of my mind are being devoured by the tension. There is vomit in my system that is dying to come out. I shouldn't have eaten that extra helping of my aunt's delicious pasta at lunch. This is as uneasy as I have ever felt.
2 days ago, I wrote a copy test to enter this newspaper. It went fine, I'd thought. Seeing a 60/100 on the answer sheet today made me think otherwise.
The editor and sub-editor were sitting across me and bombarding me with questions that I didn't feel like answering under pressure - Why did I go to boarding school? Why do I want to work in Bangalore of all places? What do I think of Calcutta's newspapers viz-a-viz Bangalore's? Why am I not pursuing further education? I heaved an inaudible sigh and answered them one by one. I think my tummy ache kicked in somewhere in the middle of the interview and I started talking more than I was supposed to. I was excited and nervous and curious as to what this seemingly neverending conversation would lead to.
I'm sitting on the sofa outside the editor's office typing this. I'm praying to a God I remember rarely and hoping I get this job. I am queasy as hell and wish the feeling would go away. But the editors are having a meeting in the conference room where I would pitch story ideas every Monday morning during my internship. My head is spinning and the world in front of me is going blurry and then coming back to focus. Make it stop. Just tell me already!
........................................................................................................................................
I was finally called into the office around 4 p.m. The sub-editor handed me an application form. "You can start your job as soon as the paperwork is processed," he said with a smile. I took it and thanked him and left the office grinning from ear to ear.
Yes, I'm going to start my first job as a reporter very, very soon.
Bangalore, land of hot chocolate fudge, I can't wait to explore you.
First job: ✓
2 days ago, I wrote a copy test to enter this newspaper. It went fine, I'd thought. Seeing a 60/100 on the answer sheet today made me think otherwise.
The editor and sub-editor were sitting across me and bombarding me with questions that I didn't feel like answering under pressure - Why did I go to boarding school? Why do I want to work in Bangalore of all places? What do I think of Calcutta's newspapers viz-a-viz Bangalore's? Why am I not pursuing further education? I heaved an inaudible sigh and answered them one by one. I think my tummy ache kicked in somewhere in the middle of the interview and I started talking more than I was supposed to. I was excited and nervous and curious as to what this seemingly neverending conversation would lead to.
I'm sitting on the sofa outside the editor's office typing this. I'm praying to a God I remember rarely and hoping I get this job. I am queasy as hell and wish the feeling would go away. But the editors are having a meeting in the conference room where I would pitch story ideas every Monday morning during my internship. My head is spinning and the world in front of me is going blurry and then coming back to focus. Make it stop. Just tell me already!
........................................................................................................................................
I was finally called into the office around 4 p.m. The sub-editor handed me an application form. "You can start your job as soon as the paperwork is processed," he said with a smile. I took it and thanked him and left the office grinning from ear to ear.
Yes, I'm going to start my first job as a reporter very, very soon.
Bangalore, land of hot chocolate fudge, I can't wait to explore you.
First job: ✓
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