When I found myself in front of Northcliffe house, which is also the headquarters of the Independent and Daily Mail, when I saw people going in and out through revolving doors, people going up and down in the transparent lifts, screens spread around everywhere displaying the latest news, my only thought was ‘Where is the toilet?’
On my first day, the first problem concerned the appointment time. They told me to be there at 8.45. I checked my watch and put it in accord with Greenwich Mean Time. Well, my watch said 8.35, the clock of the Standard, outside the building, said 8.40. Now, the problem was: which clock should I follow? The answer seemed obvious: “Watch the Standard, stupid” But my experience as a tourist has taught me that although there are many clocks around London, most of them are wrong. So, I decided to watch mine and that turned out to be just a ticket.
The first task I was appointed with was an article about groin waxing. Well, as a journalism student at Cardiff University, I have been taught how to write and cover issues like global crises, the credit crunch and insurgency in the 21st Century. There was no course like: “How to write hair removal features”, not even as an optional module. While doing that I really struggled to remember any chapter in my English Language books containing vocabulary related to depilation.
One of the most frustrating things about work experience is that sometimes there’s nothing for you to do, officially or otherwise. And you find yourself staring at the computer or just looking around. That’s the moment to have lunch.
At the very beginning I would have a full dish of pasta, continuing the habit I had in Italy. The problem is that after a dish of pasta you’re not really able to do anything other than sleeping. Therefore, I cut out the pasta and I turned to fruit and yogurt. Eating it in front of the desktop, as most of the journalists I’ve seen working there do. For a person who has grown up consuming long lunches with all the family around the table, with my father giving one hour speeches everyday – and you had no choice but to listen to him because he would then ask questions – finding myself eating in front of a screen was quite disorientating. And this is something that I have to keep to myself, because my father really wouldn’t understand.
The dress code was another issue that worried me. I was told to come wearing smart/casual dresses. I thought they meant smart or casual, or something mid way between smart and casual. In reality I found out that it meant smart and casual. In other words, you wear two different dresses on the same day. I guess, one to be comfortable working at the office and another one for official duties, like interviews or conferences. I saw many journalists arriving at the office wearing trainers and t-shirts in the morning then disappearing and coming out dressed in an elegant suit with a jacket and tie.
In that kind of situation you can feel quite intimidated, you have no idea how things work. The fact of not being a native speaker of English didn’t help. Since I have been living in the UK, one year or so, I have discovered that I have become much more visually oriented to compensate for the lack of verbal understanding that any foreigner abroad experiences. I mean that because you don’t catch words, particularly jargon and idiomatic expressions, you watch carefully instead. The natural background chat of a work environment becomes like music with unknown notes. The only notes I could immediately understand were the sighs made by journalists while writing articles. These sights indicated ideas that seemed effective when initially thought of, but seemed to lose their magic when written down. However, printing them in the paper seemed to salvage them a little.
At the Standard I looked at two things in particular: people and architecture.
There are students undergoing work experience. You immediately recognise us because we have to wear a pass at all times that says in clear letters: WORK EXPERIENCE. Attitudes towards the pass deserve a few words. I developed a personal theory about this which I think can be applied to cases other than mine. The way you wear the pass reveals your degree of self confidence.
On the first day I didn’t wear it. I just put it in my bag and forgot about it. The second day, when expectation levels rise, I felt I wanted to attach it to my forehead to make it as evident as possible. The third day I decided to attach it to my blouse – but could not help wondering: would it ruin my look? The fourth I put it on my skirt. The fifth I arrived at work with it in my hand, like a referee showing the yellow card.
Then there are people working there, I mean the journalists. They are the faces behind the words. Surprisingly, they looked calm and quiet. But then, if you push a wrong button, you can see and even touch the tension and the pressure of the journalistic environment in the UK’s capital.
Northcliffe House seems like a giant green house. Architecturally speaking, everything transmits a sense of transparency. This is almost overwhelming. Inside the building there is an indoor garden and a waterfall. There are little artificial lakes with real fish inside. I suppose the difference in this case is that it is the fish who are watching people working there; not the other way round. And those fish watched me for a while, as I entered and left brandishing my work experience pass and the expression on my face which said: “Don’t forget me”.
On my first day, the first problem concerned the appointment time. They told me to be there at 8.45. I checked my watch and put it in accord with Greenwich Mean Time. Well, my watch said 8.35, the clock of the Standard, outside the building, said 8.40. Now, the problem was: which clock should I follow? The answer seemed obvious: “Watch the Standard, stupid” But my experience as a tourist has taught me that although there are many clocks around London, most of them are wrong. So, I decided to watch mine and that turned out to be just a ticket.
The first task I was appointed with was an article about groin waxing. Well, as a journalism student at Cardiff University, I have been taught how to write and cover issues like global crises, the credit crunch and insurgency in the 21st Century. There was no course like: “How to write hair removal features”, not even as an optional module. While doing that I really struggled to remember any chapter in my English Language books containing vocabulary related to depilation.
One of the most frustrating things about work experience is that sometimes there’s nothing for you to do, officially or otherwise. And you find yourself staring at the computer or just looking around. That’s the moment to have lunch.
At the very beginning I would have a full dish of pasta, continuing the habit I had in Italy. The problem is that after a dish of pasta you’re not really able to do anything other than sleeping. Therefore, I cut out the pasta and I turned to fruit and yogurt. Eating it in front of the desktop, as most of the journalists I’ve seen working there do. For a person who has grown up consuming long lunches with all the family around the table, with my father giving one hour speeches everyday – and you had no choice but to listen to him because he would then ask questions – finding myself eating in front of a screen was quite disorientating. And this is something that I have to keep to myself, because my father really wouldn’t understand.
The dress code was another issue that worried me. I was told to come wearing smart/casual dresses. I thought they meant smart or casual, or something mid way between smart and casual. In reality I found out that it meant smart and casual. In other words, you wear two different dresses on the same day. I guess, one to be comfortable working at the office and another one for official duties, like interviews or conferences. I saw many journalists arriving at the office wearing trainers and t-shirts in the morning then disappearing and coming out dressed in an elegant suit with a jacket and tie.
In that kind of situation you can feel quite intimidated, you have no idea how things work. The fact of not being a native speaker of English didn’t help. Since I have been living in the UK, one year or so, I have discovered that I have become much more visually oriented to compensate for the lack of verbal understanding that any foreigner abroad experiences. I mean that because you don’t catch words, particularly jargon and idiomatic expressions, you watch carefully instead. The natural background chat of a work environment becomes like music with unknown notes. The only notes I could immediately understand were the sighs made by journalists while writing articles. These sights indicated ideas that seemed effective when initially thought of, but seemed to lose their magic when written down. However, printing them in the paper seemed to salvage them a little.
At the Standard I looked at two things in particular: people and architecture.
There are students undergoing work experience. You immediately recognise us because we have to wear a pass at all times that says in clear letters: WORK EXPERIENCE. Attitudes towards the pass deserve a few words. I developed a personal theory about this which I think can be applied to cases other than mine. The way you wear the pass reveals your degree of self confidence.
On the first day I didn’t wear it. I just put it in my bag and forgot about it. The second day, when expectation levels rise, I felt I wanted to attach it to my forehead to make it as evident as possible. The third day I decided to attach it to my blouse – but could not help wondering: would it ruin my look? The fourth I put it on my skirt. The fifth I arrived at work with it in my hand, like a referee showing the yellow card.
Then there are people working there, I mean the journalists. They are the faces behind the words. Surprisingly, they looked calm and quiet. But then, if you push a wrong button, you can see and even touch the tension and the pressure of the journalistic environment in the UK’s capital.
Northcliffe House seems like a giant green house. Architecturally speaking, everything transmits a sense of transparency. This is almost overwhelming. Inside the building there is an indoor garden and a waterfall. There are little artificial lakes with real fish inside. I suppose the difference in this case is that it is the fish who are watching people working there; not the other way round. And those fish watched me for a while, as I entered and left brandishing my work experience pass and the expression on my face which said: “Don’t forget me”.
This is an interesting story! I totally agree on the whole eating pasta for lunch, everytime I do I don't ever work as hard because I am sleepy.
RispondiEliminawow, did you meet a new york times journalist who got this written for you?
RispondiEliminaby the way, i paied more attention at my pass after a male colleague had to gaze at it for a whole minute to read my name. it was upside down on a tight lemon green blouse, at breast level.
miss BigBee