The Trials of a Journalist

I HATE my life. Okay, so that wasn’t a good way to introduce myself to you guys but HONESTLY! Things have been so frustrating lately! But, let me introduce myself more properly. Hi. My name is Athena, I’m 24 years old and I work as a journalist. My area of speciality is ‘Politics.’ Don’t ask how THAT ended up being my speciality. It had something to do with me writing about a politician whose public propaganda about being independent was completely ridiculous considering the fact that he still lived with his mother. But that’s neither here nor there. I was born in Washington, USA and had always dreamed of being independent (Nowadays I usually dream of sleeping) and I currently have a deadline to meet and I have no story. Does it sound like I’m in trouble? Here I go… This is how this particular situation came about:

“ATHENA!”
I jumped guiltily from my desk where I was pretending to be deeply engrossed in my work when I was actually daydreaming about a cheese hamburger with a big can of Pepsi accompanying it.
“Yeah?” I called back.
My editor, Chris , hurried into my cubicle and paused for a minute to catch his breath.
“My dear child, why must you sit so far away from my office when obviously you are one of the best reporters I have and have to constantly talk to you? We really must consider moving your cubicle closer to my office.”
And risk being pulverized by your frequent bouts of insanity? No thank you! I thought but outwards I gave a non-committal nod and motioned for him to continue.
“Through my various connections and sources across the world, I have come to know that Philip Andrew, one of the prominent Democrat Party members will be staying in the Plaza suite for a few days before leaving for a conference in some undisclosed location. Your job is to find out what he’s doing, where he’s going and what his reaction is towards the current political issues and the decisions taken by our president. So hurry up and get on with it!”
Chris stopped talking and whirled around to stomp out of my cubicle when he paused and said, “Oh and you’re working with Ryan on this one.” Saying this he swept out of the office.
I stared after him in shock. Ryan? Ryan McGrew? The one person in the world who thinks that ‘All men and women in the world are players and he’s the one controlling them?’ Naah! Can’t be. Must be Ryan from Gossips section, but why is he into politics now? Whatever! At least he doesn’t call me….

“Hey baby,”
I cringed and looked up to see tall, dark and stupid Ryan McGrew smirking at me.

I’m so doomed.

I trudged out of the Plaza suite with Ryan in tow.
“Well, that was a complete waste of time,” I muttered despondently.
“At least you got to spend time with me, baby,” Ryan replied.
I turned back and glared at Ryan, “Its Athena. Not baby. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull? Never mind! I don’t want to even know the answer to that question! What are we going to do???”

“I suggest a hoola hoop dance followed by tango and then run screaming to the nearest airport and board the next flight to Iceland and live there for the next fifty years praying that Chris won’t hunt us down in fury because of our inability to get a story.”

I paused next to my car and glanced at Ryan. “Man! You think he’ll be that mad?? I mean, come on! We can get other stories you know…”
“Sure, we can,” replied Ryan dryly. “Let’s write about atmospheric pollution! About how the world is becoming polluted due to more and more politicians opening their mouths. Or better yet, we’ll write about the bomb explosion that’s going to occur in our lives when Chris finds out that we haven’t got a story to write despite the fact that the deadline is now three days away! Listen baby, buck up and face the jazz, ok? We’re doomed and we know it. So lets just part ways and fulfill our lifelong dreams and we’ll meet up three days later to report to Chris and let him murder us, all right? Now, I seriously got to go. Ciao baby!”

Ryan turned and sauntered away in the opposite direction. I stared after him fuming. Many people have wondered why I get so annoyed by him. I mean, he isn’t that bad to look at, to which I reply that I can see auras and his aura screams HE’S A JERK!  And I have proof for all these accusations:

1.          He calls me baby which might have been flattering if it weren’t for the fact that he actually treats me like a three year old baby.
2.          He listens to Jazz music. JAZZ?? I mean, AAAGHH!!!!!!!! Normal, sane and young people don’t listen to jazz! We listen to pop, R&B, rock or metal! Ok, this doesn’t make him a jerk…just proves that he’s an alien from outer space.
3.          He’s Ryan McGrew. Do you need any other further proof?


So here I am, dear friends waiting outside the Chris’s room and praying to GOD in earnest. While I was doing so, Ryan walked up and sat next to me. At that particular moment Chris banged his door open and came towards us with a fierce look on his face. Ryan and I got up and as I opened my mouth to describe our hopelessly, beyond help situation, he started talking.

“I know you both must have created that masterpiece of an article by now and I have just one thing to say, FORGET IT! The London Times got one of their reporters there before us so there is no scoop!!”

I sent a fervent prayer of thanks up to GOD.

“Instead I have a new assignment for you Athena,” Chris continued.

OH MY GOD! Did he just say only ATHENA? As in NO Ryan? HA! In your face McGrew!

“I have come to know that the Government of the United States of America is actually dumping wastes into the sea,”

Like DUH! Isn’t that what everybody’s doing?

“So your job is to go undercover and investigate what are the wastes, how much quantity is there, is it within the environmental safety limit and write a smashing article about how the politicians are contributing to this by using refrigerators which releases CFC and how they are not using environmentally friendly fuels!”

I stared at him in shock. But all of us use refrigerators and diesel!, I thought but squashed down the thought immediately. Hey, at least I’m alive! And NO RYAN with me! So, I can survive this.

“And since this is an undercover assignment, Ryan is going to accompany you,” Chris concluded then dismissing us turned and walked towards his secretary probably to scream at her for not making his coffee have less caffeine or something.

Wait. Did he just say Ryan’s name with me?

I turned to see Ryan smirking at me.

Oh no!!! And why is this an undercover assignment?


Great! Now my life is complete! Here we are, both Ryan and me, all alone with only the birds as our company in……. the garbage barge.

Ugh, could life get any worse?

“Hey babe, look! Someone threw away a perfect pair of socks! Why would they do that?”
I glanced back at Ryan. And saw him holding a pair of bright yellow men’s socks.

Some desperate girlfriend or wife must be the culprit.

I shrugged in reply.

Whatever.
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You know what? Life isn’t so bad. In fact, it’s great! I have a story, I got so irritated with Ryan calling me baby that I accidentally made him fall into the sewage water AND some guy actually got a picture of it! Yes, my friends, let me assure you that my life is perfect now! Nothing can ruin it!

Wait. Why is Chris coming towards me and Ryan SMIRKING??

‘Nothing can ruin it,’

Did I have to say that?

Famous last words.