Have you thought that...

... with regards the recent MP's expenses scandal, those members previously under media-scrutiny must be more than a teensy bit grateful to Michael Jackson for hanging up his dancing shoes?

And that while the masses are becoming increasingly reluctant to leave their homes for fear of catching "killer" swine flu, the politicians have their feet up on their tax-payer funded footstools, in their tax-payer funded homes, safe in the knowledge that anything they feel like whacking on expenses at the moment will fade into media obscurity.

All thanks to a popstar and pig flu consuming the front pages. Never has there been a better time to hide a story.

A late night rant...

According to one low circulation women’s magazine, one in six children aged 5 – 14 in the world are child labourers. Or 158 million to be exact.
My everyday reading material may not be of a particularly high-brow nature (Marie Claire may be considered a bible by some but a reference point of the literati it is not) but I admit to being entirely ignorant of this fact until today. Is this just me?
I consider myself to be fairly well versed on the current crises around the world. So perhaps my ignorance of this problem is symptomatic of a wider predicament? Are the executive again lulling us all into a false sense of security, shielding us from the terrible truths to further their own gain? This is surely nothing new, we are by now used to governments at best protecting us, at worst deceiving us and preventing the stark realities of the modern world from becoming common knowledge.
And, to cite another instance where the government have been less than truthful, why is there not utter uproar at the latest scandal involving MP’s and their ridiculous expenses allowances, a topic that has received relatively little coverage considering the amount of public money this eats in to? Two million struggling to find work (did I mention that I’m one of them?) and yet these elected politicians claiming tens of thousands to furnish their flippin’ homes and indulge their husband’s penchant for porn is no biggie. I don’t get it.
It seems we’ve become so utterly despondent, so hopelessly aware of the fact that our attempts to create change will bomb, that we have simply given up. As a collective we’ve stopped shouting (with those few that do being portrayed as raving hippies a la the recent G20 protests) and favour instead a seething silence. And as the current fiscal crises escalates, this gloom will surely give way to further feelings of despondency .

I just don’t see it ending well.

Nobody said it was easy

Just when I was contemplating sacking this journo lark in favour of pursuing a career at Aldi's (company car and £40k management salary can't be sniffed at), 'ping' went my email inbox with a response from a publishing company with whom I'd recently applied for a job.
This was not my dream job. Nor even a job in the sector that I dreamt of working in. But with Coldplay's 'nobody said it would be easy' lyrics on a loop in my head, I remember that any illusions I previously harboured about the transition from graduate to Marie Claire being a swift one were promptly dispelled upon beginning the thankless task of job applications.
Ahhh... job applications. Currently consuming my every waking hour (discounting nicotine breaks of which there are many) and getting me nowhere fast. Until the arrival of said email.
Interview arranged and having completed the necessary research on this small, "rough around the edges" fledgling publishing house, I'm feeling good as I arrive in Aldgate in my newly-purchased Primark couture.
The offices are certainly not going to win any design awards but the director with whom I meet is simply lovely and over the course of the next 40 minutes, manages to restore my faith in the me-me-media and bring me out of the despair in to which I was fast sinking (80 fruitless job applications will do that to you).
I don't think I got the job (there were over 70 applicants, some of whom are currently on Reuters payroll - ungrateful swines). I'm not sure I want the job (proofreader). And it's almost irrelevant whether I get it or not (though my two overdrawn bank accounts may indicate otherwise). I came away with my confidence revived, once again believing in my abilities as a journalist (something that had begun to ebb away somewhere between job application form #2 and #80), and with a new-found drive to be where I actually want to be, not just be wherever will have me.
As I left she handed me a £20 note, told me to go and buy six magazines I REALLY want to write for and then use the chutzpah and self-belief that had come across in my CV to pitch my ideas until one is commissioned. Of course it won't be that easy and the coming weeks will no doubt continue to be plagued by tantrums, feelings of despondency, and Jeremy Kyle. But I will get to where I want to be.

Musings of a job seeker...

One of the best pieces of advice recently imparted to me was; “Your first job may not look like you’d expect it to.”

Aspiring Carrie Bradshaw’s may have designs on landing their first job at Vogue but the reality is that there’s probably more chance of Victoria Beckham being papped in Primark.

The tried-and-tested route of applying for job after job, spending countless days completing lengthy forms and, if you’re lucky, attending interviews may pay dividends for some but for many will prove fruitless (there’s good news to come I promise!).  So, do what any good journo would do…think laterally or to coin an all-too-often-used phrase, think outside the box.

One great thing about women’s magazines is that (surprise surprise!) the workforce tend to be female-dominated and what can women do that men can’t? Arguably, many things but most notably perhaps, they get pregnant! So, bang out an email to these mags, offering your services in the event they need maternity cover. Or holiday cover. Sick cover. Or just someone to make the drinks when the coffee machine gives up the ghost!

The point is that your primary objective should be to make yourself known as that person who is willing to do anything and importantly, do anything with a smile on your face as believe me there’s many that won’t.

Having recently completed work placements on two well-known magazines I was astounded by some fellow workies’ attitude.  When asked to make tea / collect post / walk the editor’s dog, their faces resembled that of Pete Doherty’s upon being told that drug stocks have dried up.

In the immortal words of Sheryl Crow, no-one said it would be easy, but anyone still under the misinformed illusion that the magazine market is a easy nut to crack should pack their bags and close the door on their way out. There will be times when you want to bellow “But I’m not here to be your lacky, I’ve got a degree and I want to write goddammit”, but compose yourself. The Anna Wintour’s and Piers Morgan’s of this world didn’t just waltz out of uni halls and into the editorship, they would have paid their dues and earnt their stripes before they earnt any dollar so you’re in good company.