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A
clock I will never see ticks over to 4am, and my
mobile phone kicks into gear. A loud, annoying
tune wakes me up from my four hour snooze. Having
no choice, I roll out of bed, and make my way to
the bathroom. In the cold, dark hours of the
morning, I try to pull on a pair of pants, doing
naught but praying they are on the right way, and
they are, infact, a part of pants.
After
a can of Coke for breakfast, I stumble out to the
cold street, and make my way to the train station,
hoping not to get mugged. You see, I am on my way
to work. But instead of going to a large, black
building with a secretary and with neon lights
above the window with the TyCorp logo, I am making
my way to a shopping mall, to clean a very large,
oily grilling machine. For you see, if I am not
typing up a new article on something cool and
exciting, I am whiling away the hours at Hungry
Jack's - a Burger King restaurant, trying
desperately to pay the bills.
Like
most would-be journalists, I have been forced to
pursue a life of annoyance, rather than follow a
dream of becoming the world's greatest writer.
This all comes down to the busy, tactless, bitchy
industry that is journalism.
Not
only do we have to compete with loud mouthed
bastards, but there are occasions where our
questions offend the client, thusly causing them
to lash out in often violent ways. The result? A
black eye, no story, and no money.
The
story is worse for website - journalists. As the
Internet is steadily converting to an archive of
cheap porn, the news world is getting corrupted by
stupid rumours and idiot 12 year olds who
discredit the entire profession.
You
see, there is very little money in this business,
but we still try! Go us.
-Ty
Editor,
TyCorp Revolution Australia.
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