Go to Work

I decide to go and see what's changed at my workplace. I'm currently interning two days a week at The Star, a local paper, to give me some experience in journalism. I was hoping to be able to shadow some reporters, maybe even get a few stories of my own, but I've been there nearly 8 months and the closest I've come to doing actual journalism is searching Google for images for the reporters to use in their articles. I usually go in on Wednesday afternoons, so I'll be expected there today anyway. It seems like as good a place as any to begin exploring this new world.

The paper isn't far from the coffee shop, and it only takes me about ten minutes to walk there. It's a shabby building on the corner, a bit dilapidated, and smelling of stale coffee and printer ink, but I kind of like it. I walk in and straight past Imogen at the reception desk. I'm about to push the door open to head into the main office when she calls out.
"HEY. It's staff only back there. Who are you?" I hesitate, confused. Imogen knows me, I've been working here for almost 8 months. Then I see that she's addressing Muse, who has been silently following me this whole time. Oh, damn, I'd forgotten about Muse, of course she wouldn't be allowed in.
"Don't worry about it." She says to me softly. "I might go and explore this world myself. I'll be waiting back at the coffee shop if you need me. Well, technically I'm everywhere, so if you want to go back to the Studio, just let me know. I'll hear you." She walks away, her blood-red hair swaying gently with each step.

I proceed inside to the main part of the building. It's a large open-plan office with about a dozen cubicles. The floor is burgundy and dusty, straight out of the 1980's. There's a small staff-kitchen off to the side, with linoleum floors and a coffee-machine. A door at the far end of the room is open, the editor's office. Just glancing around, I can already see one major change, there are more female reporters than I remember. I can't see Peter or Richard anywhere, in fact, I seem to be the only man in the place. Instead, at Richard's cubicle, there's a slender brunette woman who I've never seen before. She's talking to another, taller woman with sharp eyebrows and black hair pulled back into a tight bun. This second woman, I do recognize; it's Vivian, the paper's editor. She's a stern woman, in her early 40's, and not a pleasant person to be around at the best of times. She is an excellent reporter though; intelligent and eloquent, and unafraid to write about sensitive or controversial issues. She notices me now and breaks off her conversation with the brunette.
"Ah, Mike, I was wondering when you'd get here. I've had a hell of a morning. Two of my best reporters just got poached by The Sun and another one left to become a writer for a TV soap opera. I need a coffee, ASAP. You can bring it to me in my office, I've got something to discuss with you there anyway." She saunters away, and slams the door of her office. I scurry off to make her a coffee. It's never a good idea to get on Vivian's bad side, she has a towering temper.

I open the door and set the steaming coffee down on Vivian's desk. She takes a sip through pursed lips.
"It's too weak. Less milk next time." She says, without looking up from her work. I stand there awkwardly for a few minutes. She still hasn't looked up. I clear my throat. She glances up and sees me standing there. "Why are you still here?" She snaps.
"Uh. You said you had something to discuss with me." I say, nervously.
"Oh. Right." She says brusquely. "I'm really tense about the events of this morning, and stressed about the future of the paper. I need a massage. Come and give me a shoulder massage while I tell you why I called you in here." I've never been asked to give my boss a shoulder massage before. It's a little weird, but I suppose that's a consequence of this new world, women feel more assertive and confident. I shuffle around behind Vivian and begin to slowly massage her shoulders. I'm close enough to smell her shampoo. It's some kind of flower, lavender maybe, whatever it is, it's rather intoxicating.
"Mmmmmmhhmm." Vivian purrs, almost like a cat. "Good. Now, I didn't want to have to do this, but it seems I have no other choice. As I said, I've lost reporters today, but I still need to put out articles. NOT LIKE THAT YOU IDIOT, KNEAD WITH YOUR THUMBS" she shrieks, interrupting herself. I switch to the new technique. "Better. As I was saying, I need help. I don't really want to, but I don't have a choice. I'm going to get you to write me an article this week." I stop massaging for a sec to give a little fist-bump to the universe. It's about bloody time I got to do some proper journalism. Vivian continues, her voice a lot sterner now. "I want to make something clear. I used to work for a national paper, I have a lot of clout in this industry, and if you disappoint me, I can ensure that you'll never work in this industry, so you'd better do a damn good job."
"Yes ma'am, I will." I reply. "So, what am I writing about? I've got a few good ideas. I heard a tip that someone in the mayor's office was taking money to turn a blind eye to illegal dumping of industrial waste. I could also do a political column; I think the government really missed the mark with their latest budget proposal. Maybe I could even do something light-hearted like volunteer at a soup-kitchen and share my experiences." It all comes out in a rush, I've just been so eager to do some proper journalism.
"ENOUGH!" Vivian says sharply. "I already have an article for you to do. I need my proper reporters for the real stories like the ones you just described, so you'll be doing an article for our sports column. Our local netball team The Starlings are playing their rivals The Phoenix tomorrow night. The two teams hate each other, so it's always a bitter rivalry. I need you to go and watch the game, take notes and write a short article (no more than two paragraphs) about it. Try and get a few quotes from the players and coaches as well." I'm disappointed. A netball game? It's not what I was hoping for. I don't even like netball. Oh well, I suppose it's better than nothing though, and if I do a good job, maybe Vivian will give me more opportunities in the future.
"Okay. I'll do my best. Thank you Vivian." I reply.
"You can stop that now." She says. and I stop massaging her shoulders. She does seem more visibly relaxed. "I'm finished with my coffee as well, you can take the cup back to the kitchen and wash it, then go get me lunch from that Korean place I like." I nod, grab the cup and begin to leave. Just as I reach the door, Vivian says, "Oh, and Mike. About that article, there may be a slight catch."