The interview from Hell - Part 2

The last part of the elimination process was a face-off with one of the lecturers.

Armed with my portfolio of cuttings I was all set to impress the hierarchy of journalism academia with my experience and knowledge.

Instead it was the final nail in the coffin for any chance of getting on to the course.

I was asked who my favourite newspaper journalists were. A plethora of television correspondents flooded my mind but any broadsheet reporters had temporarily left the internal newsroom.

I was probably expected to say Woodward or Bernstein or maybe even David Leigh or Nick Davies or Truman Capote.

I managed to stumble out: “Erm…Charlie Brooker…Hadley Freeman…”

I had Catherine Townsend (ex-sex columnist for the Independent) on the tip of my tongue but I held back.

I could hear the gates to the journalist’s Mecca slamming shut as I uttered those two names.

But it just got worse. My experience was picked apart. Student journalism didn’t “count” as experience.

Clearly, my three years of writing, editing, proofreading, commissioning articles, laying out pages using InDesign, liaising with PR companies, attending film screenings and interviewing people all counted for nothing.

My explanation for how I managed to get five months experience on a regional magazine* through sheer initiative was rewarded with a sceptical, glassy-eyed look.

Despite the magazine being published by an upmarket newspaper it appears my two days of flicking through the newspaper itself were prized more highly.

Nor did it matter that I was working as a news aggregator at a financial newswire at the time.

My job entailed finding existing stories which I summarised for readers in a daily news round up. But I wanted to report and break news instead of re-hashing copy.

(During the introductory talk I was told that graduates from the course went on to work at the company I was then employed at. I did mention this to the eliminator but it was of no consequence.)

To add further insult to injury, I was smacked with a wave of condescension when I told that I was “very enthusiastic” and that maybe I should apply for the magazine journalism course.

In my head I yelled “but I want to be a newspaper reporter”. I wonder if my face betrayed my seething frustration.

The battle was soon over and the lecturer had vetted out another wannabe. You are the Weakest Link, good bye.

As I left the interview room and collected my things for the journey home I felt incredibly hollow.

All hope of getting into journalism seemed to be extinguished.

I realised then that I may have to take the most obstacle-ridden path to reach my destination. Maybe that’s what makes the satisfaction of reaching a goal all the more sweet.


*I had ended up on the editorial team of the magazine while initially carrying out two weeks work experience at a national newspaper.

The first two days at the national I was sat at a desk and advised to read the paper. I was gruffly rebuffed when I asked a reporter if I could attend a press conference with them.

It was only after pestering my minders that I was elevated to the fifth floor to work on an under-staffed, under-funded magazine set for re-launch at the end of the week.

I spent the three months of my summer holidays from university there and a further two months after I finished my degree. It was the best experience I ever had. That was my summer of education and where I made life-long friends.