I know, it's not much of a revelation, since I've not posted anything since a rather catastrophic falling out with Blogger about three weeks ago. However, today, Friday 27th July, I am off to the Olympic Games to work as a volunteer.
As you may or may not know, there are pretty tough restrictions on what anyone who has any involvement with the games can say on social media. I will be publishing a day-by-day account after the Paralympics close, but until then I will just have to censor myself. Feel free to guess the missing words.
I may have told you in person that I'm going to be working as security, but I shouldn't have done that. Firstly, it sounds a little bit too sexy for a job that mostly involves telling people how to queue in order and figuring out ways of mentioning to fat people that they won't fit through scanners without ending up with an enormous fist in your face. Secondly, and probably more importantly, security is a bit of a dirty word at the moment, what with the whole omnishambles regarding G4S. I wouldn't worry about that, incidentally- from what I've heard, the military are doing a much better job than those halfwits. Instead of security, then, I must say Venue Entry.
From 0630 on Saturday morning, I will be posted at the Olympic Park, which, by the way, is gorgeous. Though, when I saw it, my body temperature was about a squillion degrees and so I may have been suffering from delirium. I will do my job as I have been instructed: with a smile on my face.
Incidentally, for a would-be journalist, censorship is an absolute pain in the arse.
I am not allowed to talk to journalists, which I need to do because I have no contacts. I am not allowed to tweet my location live- as if I could, what with my mobile network being as rubbish, if cheap, as it is. I'm allowed to say that. I am not even allowed to publish any photos of me in uniform- until after the Paralympics are over, anyway.
I'm not complaining though, not really. The London 2012 Olympic Games has taken a lot of flak from both press and public over the last few weeks. Barely has there been a mention of the IOC's verdict- that London is the best-prepared city in Olympic history.
I will be proud to work at the Games. I will be part of history, no matter how small my role. And I will be there- maybe not to witness the golds, but to hear of the successes at the beating heart of it all.
So: all you olympi-haters can just suck my imaginary dick.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Friday, 27 July 2012
Saturday, 14 April 2012
Journalism: Exposed
Journalism has a bit of a gloss on it. Not least because the people we get our information from are journalists. Journalists write books, make television serials, documentaries, and most importantly, report current affairs.
Nobody ever wants to believe they're doing something other people can do. So journalists, with the power to tell large numbers of people something, and for them to believe it, can essentially say what they want. In particular, they can say what they want about journalism, because only journalists know what that actually entails, and even if anyone else did find out, they're not in a position to tell anybody.
So as things are, nobody knows anything about journalism because journalists are basically allowed to believe their own hype.
Not any more. I'm blowing the lid on journalism. No longer will it be swathed in mystique, starring noble lay detectives who will do anything for the truth. No longer will it star larger-than-life antiheroes, with an ego the size of the moon and a conscience that can only be seen under an electron microscope.
Nepotism aside, before starting work as a journalist, you must qualify. Before you can qualify, you must undergo a period of work experience. This is not as a means of ensuring you have the necessary skills. It's to thin the ranks.
Having just spent the best part of a week working at the Oldham Evening Chronicle in my former home town, I can speak with authority on the subject.
The first massively disappointing thing about journalism is that, if you've ever worked in an office, as most of us have or will for an enormous chunk of our lives, you've experienced the bulk of it. It is office work, in a grey, windowless environment, where lunch hour is the cue to run and find something vaguely exciting to stop you going mental. Such as a car park, or an escalator.
At the Chron, I had a desk, with a phone and a computer. The phone was not ringing incessantly as story after story came in. The only time it ever made a noise was to tell me I'd accidentally knocked it off the hook. The computer was not top-of-the range, with twin monitors, one with my current article loaded up, the other with a rolling barrage of breaking news. It was an Apple Mac, running OS 9.
For anyone unfamiliar with OS 9, you may want to go and find an abacus, and try typing up a 300-word article on that.
To access the internet, I had to go to another computer, which was shared by all the writers.
Yes, not exactly what we'd all been led to believe. Not once was I asked for a skinny latte/scotch by the editor. Though, I don't think anything about me suggests I have the temperament to stand for that kind of treatment on work experience.
When it came to chasing leads, there certainly were an awful lot of chases going on, and ninety-nine percent of those were of the wild-goose variety. I made phone calls, nobody was there. When people were there, they didn't know anything. When they did know something, they weren't allowed to say anything until they'd spoken to PR. When they'd spoken to PR, they told me I had to go through someone else, who was either on holiday, didn't know anything, or had spoken to another journalist but a few seconds earlier.
I also got a chance to go to court, which I can't say anything about or else a magistrate will come and get me.
Joking aside, it was an interesting experience, and though it did take all day to get to the case we were there to see, I saw things I'd never seen in my life before.
Journalism is largely fruitless. It's not characterised by writer's block because usually the gratefulness of finally getting the pieces of a story together will force it out of you. It's not characterised by sucking up to the boss, nor throwing away the rule book or any of that. Those are plot devices. It's real life, and it's boring.
Or it should be. It's just not, though. Maybe I'm just mental, but I enjoyed it. It's the feeling of finding a needle in a haystack. It's seeing the words "by SACHA TORREGROSA-JONES" on a real-life news article. Knowing someone's going to read it, be moved by it in some way.
One of the people I met working in Oldham had previously worked at a fashion magazine, and assured me that things were infinitely worse there. Journalists were only expected to write a single article per week, and did very little else. No wonder Ugly Betty was cancelled.
I was never bored. Not for a second. I was thrown in at the deep end and expected to keep myself afloat, and I like to think that I did. Journalism isn't for everyone, I see that now. I see no reason why it can't be for me, though.
Incidentally, I have been offered a placement at BBC Focus in September. As ever, I'll keep you informed.
Nobody ever wants to believe they're doing something other people can do. So journalists, with the power to tell large numbers of people something, and for them to believe it, can essentially say what they want. In particular, they can say what they want about journalism, because only journalists know what that actually entails, and even if anyone else did find out, they're not in a position to tell anybody.
So as things are, nobody knows anything about journalism because journalists are basically allowed to believe their own hype.
Not any more. I'm blowing the lid on journalism. No longer will it be swathed in mystique, starring noble lay detectives who will do anything for the truth. No longer will it star larger-than-life antiheroes, with an ego the size of the moon and a conscience that can only be seen under an electron microscope.
Nepotism aside, before starting work as a journalist, you must qualify. Before you can qualify, you must undergo a period of work experience. This is not as a means of ensuring you have the necessary skills. It's to thin the ranks.
Having just spent the best part of a week working at the Oldham Evening Chronicle in my former home town, I can speak with authority on the subject.
The first massively disappointing thing about journalism is that, if you've ever worked in an office, as most of us have or will for an enormous chunk of our lives, you've experienced the bulk of it. It is office work, in a grey, windowless environment, where lunch hour is the cue to run and find something vaguely exciting to stop you going mental. Such as a car park, or an escalator.
At the Chron, I had a desk, with a phone and a computer. The phone was not ringing incessantly as story after story came in. The only time it ever made a noise was to tell me I'd accidentally knocked it off the hook. The computer was not top-of-the range, with twin monitors, one with my current article loaded up, the other with a rolling barrage of breaking news. It was an Apple Mac, running OS 9.
For anyone unfamiliar with OS 9, you may want to go and find an abacus, and try typing up a 300-word article on that.
To access the internet, I had to go to another computer, which was shared by all the writers.
Yes, not exactly what we'd all been led to believe. Not once was I asked for a skinny latte/scotch by the editor. Though, I don't think anything about me suggests I have the temperament to stand for that kind of treatment on work experience.
When it came to chasing leads, there certainly were an awful lot of chases going on, and ninety-nine percent of those were of the wild-goose variety. I made phone calls, nobody was there. When people were there, they didn't know anything. When they did know something, they weren't allowed to say anything until they'd spoken to PR. When they'd spoken to PR, they told me I had to go through someone else, who was either on holiday, didn't know anything, or had spoken to another journalist but a few seconds earlier.
I also got a chance to go to court, which I can't say anything about or else a magistrate will come and get me.
Joking aside, it was an interesting experience, and though it did take all day to get to the case we were there to see, I saw things I'd never seen in my life before.
Journalism is largely fruitless. It's not characterised by writer's block because usually the gratefulness of finally getting the pieces of a story together will force it out of you. It's not characterised by sucking up to the boss, nor throwing away the rule book or any of that. Those are plot devices. It's real life, and it's boring.
Or it should be. It's just not, though. Maybe I'm just mental, but I enjoyed it. It's the feeling of finding a needle in a haystack. It's seeing the words "by SACHA TORREGROSA-JONES" on a real-life news article. Knowing someone's going to read it, be moved by it in some way.
One of the people I met working in Oldham had previously worked at a fashion magazine, and assured me that things were infinitely worse there. Journalists were only expected to write a single article per week, and did very little else. No wonder Ugly Betty was cancelled.
I was never bored. Not for a second. I was thrown in at the deep end and expected to keep myself afloat, and I like to think that I did. Journalism isn't for everyone, I see that now. I see no reason why it can't be for me, though.
Incidentally, I have been offered a placement at BBC Focus in September. As ever, I'll keep you informed.
Monday, 6 February 2012
How to Love Mondays
I currently love Mondays. This is not because I have been visited by James Reed. This is because I don't work, and have nothing to do particularly.
However, I am trying to get a job. More specifically, I am working on my dream job of becoming a writer/renowned genius/unicorn-riding ninja. Unfortunately, the number of "useful tools" on the internet is so vast that they all are made useless. Let me give you an example by telling you the state of my web browser this morning.
I opened my emails. My emails suggested I look at a job that had just become available at the BBC. This reminded me that I still hadn't posted off my application to Focus. I opened the Focus website. As part of the application for Focus, I had to include my term dates. The Liverpool University website opens.
Next, an email from my mother reminds me that I haven't posted anything on Fiverr yet. Annoyingly, Fiverr wants an example photo of my work. I'm a writer. I have to now take a photograph of a piece of paper. Whilst not taking a photograph of a piece of paper, I remember that I haven't checked People Per Hour for a while. I suggest to potential employers that they google Sachtastic or Sacha Torregrosa-Jones.
I then realise that I may have made a fatal mistake. I google Sachtastic. Luckily, my website sprouts first, followed by, annoyingly, Roblox. I try to delete my Roblox account. The people at Roblox kindly inform me that there is not currently any feature for deleting my account. I wonder how this is legal and resolve to do something about it later.
The next link is for something called Scribd, which I signed up to last March and promptly forgot about. This would probably be a useful tool if I ever had time to write anything which wasn't instantly devoured by one or other of my projects.
So, my browser window is now a mess. Happy Monday.
Far from having nothing to do, I've suddenly uncovered all the things I should have been doing when I was in university. I also have to email all the publications I telephoned last Monday to tell them, in writing, why they need me to work for free for them for two weeks.
I'm also supposed to be revising my stripy little socks off for University Challenge, going to ASDA, doing my electronics tutorial and apologising to the editors I already have for not sending them anything recently.
I want to know how I ever coped before I had Mondays. I love Mondays. They enable me not only to get things done, but also to realise how much I'd forgotten needed doing.
However, I am trying to get a job. More specifically, I am working on my dream job of becoming a writer/renowned genius/unicorn-riding ninja. Unfortunately, the number of "useful tools" on the internet is so vast that they all are made useless. Let me give you an example by telling you the state of my web browser this morning.
I opened my emails. My emails suggested I look at a job that had just become available at the BBC. This reminded me that I still hadn't posted off my application to Focus. I opened the Focus website. As part of the application for Focus, I had to include my term dates. The Liverpool University website opens.
Next, an email from my mother reminds me that I haven't posted anything on Fiverr yet. Annoyingly, Fiverr wants an example photo of my work. I'm a writer. I have to now take a photograph of a piece of paper. Whilst not taking a photograph of a piece of paper, I remember that I haven't checked People Per Hour for a while. I suggest to potential employers that they google Sachtastic or Sacha Torregrosa-Jones.
I then realise that I may have made a fatal mistake. I google Sachtastic. Luckily, my website sprouts first, followed by, annoyingly, Roblox. I try to delete my Roblox account. The people at Roblox kindly inform me that there is not currently any feature for deleting my account. I wonder how this is legal and resolve to do something about it later.
The next link is for something called Scribd, which I signed up to last March and promptly forgot about. This would probably be a useful tool if I ever had time to write anything which wasn't instantly devoured by one or other of my projects.
So, my browser window is now a mess. Happy Monday.
Far from having nothing to do, I've suddenly uncovered all the things I should have been doing when I was in university. I also have to email all the publications I telephoned last Monday to tell them, in writing, why they need me to work for free for them for two weeks.
I'm also supposed to be revising my stripy little socks off for University Challenge, going to ASDA, doing my electronics tutorial and apologising to the editors I already have for not sending them anything recently.
I want to know how I ever coped before I had Mondays. I love Mondays. They enable me not only to get things done, but also to realise how much I'd forgotten needed doing.
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
Back to Business
A little update on my life.
I have become employed, and as a result, am getting straight back into social media for a number of reasons.
Firstly, and most importantly, as a creative outlet. The job I start in September is in residential marketing and sales. This job involves a lot of hours, a lot of legwork and very little gain. I can cope with that, though. All I need to do is keep my university life, my work life and my home life in perfect balance.
At the moment, I'm working in a lettings agent's, and thoroughly enjoying the intense customer service experience. I'm one step away from answering my own 'phone with "Good Morning, Sacha speaking; how can I help you?", all the while grinning like a fool in the hope my smile somehow makes its way down the line and makes the caller want to buy stuff from me.
I expect, after a fortnight selling door-to-door I will be utterly fluent in salesperson's spiel and, without a blog, utterly incapable of addressing anybody in any other fashion. So the blog returns, to begin with, on an approximately weekly basis.
Secondly, hungry for power and status as I am, I'm looking to do a little networking. Aside from developing my interpersonal skills through the medium of sales and marketing, I'm looking to ultimately move into freelance journalism and possibly the golden grail of published authorship.
As everyone who ever told me to get my head out of the clouds and concentrate on a real career path will know, any kind of media career can be tricky to break into. It takes time, dedication and a fair measure of being in the right place at the right time. However, by successfully networking, and by getting my name out there as much as possible, I hope to be in as many different places as possible at a number of different times, and thus begin to live the dream.
This will be a long journey, however, and I will keep you posted.
Finally, it's because I need an audience. Because of my own vanity, yes, but also because writing for an audience differs so greatly to writing for oneself.
So, I call on you, my audience, to give me the greatest, and most detested gift that can be given to a writer- your criticism.
I'm still looking for an angle to take in my blogs- sideways rambling has served me well up to a point, but with employment and the associated need for direction comes the feeling that this can't last forever.
I have become employed, and as a result, am getting straight back into social media for a number of reasons.
Firstly, and most importantly, as a creative outlet. The job I start in September is in residential marketing and sales. This job involves a lot of hours, a lot of legwork and very little gain. I can cope with that, though. All I need to do is keep my university life, my work life and my home life in perfect balance.
At the moment, I'm working in a lettings agent's, and thoroughly enjoying the intense customer service experience. I'm one step away from answering my own 'phone with "Good Morning, Sacha speaking; how can I help you?", all the while grinning like a fool in the hope my smile somehow makes its way down the line and makes the caller want to buy stuff from me.
I expect, after a fortnight selling door-to-door I will be utterly fluent in salesperson's spiel and, without a blog, utterly incapable of addressing anybody in any other fashion. So the blog returns, to begin with, on an approximately weekly basis.
Secondly, hungry for power and status as I am, I'm looking to do a little networking. Aside from developing my interpersonal skills through the medium of sales and marketing, I'm looking to ultimately move into freelance journalism and possibly the golden grail of published authorship.
As everyone who ever told me to get my head out of the clouds and concentrate on a real career path will know, any kind of media career can be tricky to break into. It takes time, dedication and a fair measure of being in the right place at the right time. However, by successfully networking, and by getting my name out there as much as possible, I hope to be in as many different places as possible at a number of different times, and thus begin to live the dream.
This will be a long journey, however, and I will keep you posted.
Finally, it's because I need an audience. Because of my own vanity, yes, but also because writing for an audience differs so greatly to writing for oneself.
So, I call on you, my audience, to give me the greatest, and most detested gift that can be given to a writer- your criticism.
I'm still looking for an angle to take in my blogs- sideways rambling has served me well up to a point, but with employment and the associated need for direction comes the feeling that this can't last forever.
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