Staff Meeting

The chief editor just told another editor her hair looks good in a sidepart. "Less fluffy than usual". Fashion, baby.

The hours. They're long. I mean, they start pretty late - I need to adjust my system to having time at home before nine am that is not spent sleeping. Otherwise, I'm so early that it doesn't even matter when I miss my subway stop due to composing risky texts. I even had time for a quick picture of the picturesque water situation at the wrong station. And today I got let out early because the editors were having prosecco anyways and were so kind to not make me work either.


The work. The first day, I was only packing boxes of specific clothes I had to find off racks of stuff that is hung in absolutely no apparent or even hidden kind of order. I swear I have had every single one of those items in my hand and I still can't remember where anything is. I'm itching to flipping reorganize that whole room in every way possible. Alphabetically, by use, length and color. Just give me a week. That day, I seriously wondered whether I am making enough of a difference in this world by doing this, but I blame those thoughts on my aching feet and back (a bit of existencial pleading never hurts. It makes your skin glow). Anyways, my tasks get more fun each day and right now I'm happily cutting out little purses and hats to go with some flatlays. If only the phone would never ring - I don't have my phone voice on spot yet, so I refuse to answer even though that's probably something an intern would do. But seriously, how do some people sound like they've been trained in a calming callcenter for years when they're speaking on the phone? It must be a God-given gift.

The desk. It's big and it's next to a huge window and there's all the good stuff on it (magic scotch tape and markers and little post its of which I use twelve a day just because I can). And a mac computer - when did those take over the world? And most importantly, why? Nothing follows intuition and everything's on the wrong side. The only positive thing about it is the giant screen behind which no one sees me checking my texts while I chat to the editors about annoying people who are on their phone all of the time.

I wish I could show you a picture of my precious paper cutting work but I believe I signed something like "I won't publish anything I see or hear" that sounded pretty serious.
Good thing I'm not a vlogger then.

Did I just laugh out loud to the TV or was I just thinking laughter? Is this what living alone feels like?

Hope you're good.

Love,

Rosy Smith