Bitchy Intern

Bitchy Intern’s Diary: Edge of Anonymous Twitter – Existential crisis #452

Monday July 7th 10.44AM

Existential crisis #452: Who needs to re-assess their priorities more? The people still devoting endless hours of their lives to Farmville and other delightful imaginary internet games?

Or me? For getting a nosebleed for every time I log on to facebook to find that four long-lost acquaintances (and usually at least one extended family member)- has somehow still managed, to send me an invite to grow imaginary turnips?


Covering letter to potential employer, 10.50AM

Good God- I’ve been waiting for something like this to pop up for a year and a half.

I am currently an intern for the second biggest national newspaper, **********, however was previously in-house features editor for **************, published by ********, but owned and managed by **********. I was not only responsible for interviewing the celebrities, I was also relied on for content writing, turning around press releases, organising competitions by working with huge brands (Reading&Leeds, Brothers Cider, Nivea, Go Outdoors, Two Seasons, Topshop, Forever21, Lush, Jack Daniels). In the end they sold the company and I moved to doing PR for my current position at ********** but my heart is actually in the creative field and I’ve been searching for something, anything, to get back into paid editorial.

After writing/journalism, my next big vocation and one of my hobbies, though nothing I’ve ever taken seriously, has been script-writing and video editing, but just for fun. After watching 30 Rock, I began to take it more seriously and have been working on my own projects. That makes me sound well and truly silly, but I promise you- it was Tina Fey that did it. Tina Fey. And her wonderful night cheese.

I’m on ************** writers list (the the blood sweat and tears of ******** and his partner, *********) which has been the most successful break in local publications I’ve seen for a long time, and is arguably the go-to in ********** for the arts and culture side of ******** currently. I write for *********** under a pseudonym and, though I haven’t published anything with him yet- the editor of ************ has always said anything that I want to write and push through SS, he’d be happy to do it for me and to just send it over.

My main advantages as an in-house employee are in my hands on experience of working for a magazine in the past. I was originally hired as telesales and slowly clawed my way up to “Social Media and Marketing Manager”; which loosely translated to “The bosses right hand woman.” I’ve had experience in everything from advertising space sales, to chasing late advertising payments, to magazine distribution (nationwide, 250,000 copies- single-handedly), to writing and editing my own 15 page sections, organising photoshoots where I’ve sourced models and photographers to work for free- and also had all the companies lend me their clothes, for free. I’m also exceptionally good at knowing which phone calls to send through and which ones to take a message from. That was a joke. Sort of.

I’m currently applying for freelance work but unfortunately, unless you want to be a bid writer or you live central London, it can be a little sparse. Other than that, I am a freelance social media account manager, where I manage up to six brands at any one time- posting for them on their accounts and making sure they are always showcasing themselves, or relevant content to interest their customers.

I was also runner up in Marie Claire’s Inspire & Mentor campaign for journalism, I actually lost out to another local ********* journalist, who I now know and worked with during my internship at ************* (**********). The features director of Marie Claire (***** ********) however, still endevours to coach us all, and she is still one of my references.

I was personally mentored by ****** ****, who was a well known newspaper journalist for years before becoming a lecturer, who is another reference for me. Just a quick google and you’ll find him on Twitter. If you wish to ask of me, he’ll reply with his telephone number or e-mail very quickly.

My greatest interests in ******** are catching the things nobody else has caught on to yet. I actually live on *********, so when the rumours started circling about Prince playing the secret gig in the *********, I was hooked on twitter ready to grab my coat and run out of the door. I immediately informed all the magazines I write for as to the rumour, in case there was a scoop to catch. Unfortunately it was a false lead, but it’s the best example I can give you for the interest and passion of my work. It is mainly music, but I adapt to all things. I regularly harass the ******* to try and give me details for secret appearances and their sudden lock downs so I can blog about it, but they seem tight lipped as of yet.

I will crack them.

My CV is almost the same as my LinkedIn profile, though should you add me on LinkedIn, you will be able to click through and directly access my work for various publications and see my full list of expertise.

I am interested in copy writing as well as possible writing for broadcast, as you so indicate in the job description.

I also have blogs- but they are very informal. One, is an old one, that I used for documenting things I had written, whether interviews, fiction, non-fiction or nonsense. I also have another, written under a pseudonym, which I choose not to disclose because- well, pseudonym. However I can send over excerpts of drafts, for you to see my informal discourse and grasp my sense of humour, which can take anything from ten minutes to two years as I have now learnt through previous employers. (That was a joke.)

(Sort of.)

This seems like a great opportunity to making my main vocation writing again and I hope my enthusiasm screams through this letter. Or desperation. I’ll take either. I really hope to hear from you.

Thank you so much if you managed to read this far,

My inner child really does appreciate it,

Bitchy Intern xoxo


 11.55 AM – Frustration

E-mail me. E-mail me. E-mail me. I know you’reall at fucking work and have been for the past three hours. I know you’ve read my e-mail and put it low on your priority list. However if you bothered to read how much experience I have you would realise I would cut your to-do list in half and actually deal with the majority of your low priority e-mails, you barbaric fuckwits.

I have the hospital in two hours. I should get fucking ready.


Wednesday, July 9th 12.38PM – Instagram Comments from my Indian friend.

Bio: “On going proof that I’m not dead.”

“How have I just seen your bio?!”

“I changed it recently.”

“I gathered! However it completely coincides with when I text you asking if you’re still alive.”

“Haha. I can text again now!”

“Oh that’s good, your response time is usually about 3 months later via text.”

“Such truth. Much feeling. Many angered.”

“It’s fine, by the time you replied my bar mitzvah had already been and gone.”

“Mazel Tov!!”


2.42 PM- Reply from job e-mail

Hi Bitchy,
Thank you for your application to join ********’s growing creative force. Especially thank you for your enthusiastic covering letter, which brightened up my morning.
Was it a bit long?.. (sort of) – sorry couldn’t resist.
We are holding a launch party for our new magazine *********** at ******’s in the city centre this Thursday and would like to invite the best candidates along for an informal chat ahead of interview.
Please see invite att. Are you able to attend? You can bring a friend.
Kind regards
Editor in Chief

8.02PM – Conversation about me being off sick

“MY name got brought up? Let me guess. They all think I’m dead?” 
“No, actually, they’re nervous. Paranoid. You could pop up at any moment like a hidden tiger. It’s tense. Everyone is watching their back, they’re all waiting for the moment you strike back.”
“They think I’m dead don’t they?”

“More or less.”

12.44AM thoughts, peach schnapps just poured.
I don’t mind the fact that my roots are taking over my whole head, for once. Means I have some time to look the “underneath” me in the eye when I look in the mirror. You know, I didn’t have any real desire to be Blonde. And a year prior to me doing it, I would have sworn I would never dye my hair. It was just one week too many, of having a very crowded mind. One thing led to another and a few Blonde streaks turned into me compulsively bleaching my entire head at 1am in someone else’s house. Barely slept, stared at myself in a mirror for half an hour. Made a decision, wrote a note on a pizza box and by the time they woke up, I was gone. Full blown crazy, three years ago today.People ask me about it all the time, ask me why did I do it, that my hair was lovely, that they think I should go back brunette, when am I going to go back to brunette… I grimace. I really hadn’t done it for any aesthetic reason, or that I thought I looked better blonde, because I really didn’t. The truth is the act was so compulsive for a while even I didn’t know why I’d done it. But now I know.

Sometimes, when something happens that is so huge it changes you, it’s incredibly hard to integrate with the real world again. Pretend you like the same things you did before. Chat about relative bollocks. Actually, it’s enfuriating. For a year, maybe two, I had walked around dead amongst the living. Going through the motions. If I could have shown how I actually felt in a physical form I would have been half dead, carrying war wounds. But no one could see it. It’d be difficult to look in mirrors. Because for everything I’d been through, there were no marks. No physical signs of change. And it killed me to have to look like someone I wasn’t, anymore.

Sometimes I have dreams where I look in the mirror and I see myself as I am now, but with my hair as though I’d never touched it. Just me, a sink and a mirror. Absolutely nothing else, not even walls. Then of course, I wake up and realise I’m starting to give Cruella De Ville a run for her hairstyle. Life is life.

1.04AM – Memories of being a Waitress

I was working the door of the restaurant with Kerrie, it was actually so busy they’d put two of us on host. The queue for tables was literally out the door. I’d had hungry people getting arsey with me over pizza for three odd hours and then, this family of five finally made it to the front of the queue and said “Excuse me, can we please be seated as soon as possible? We’ve got a film to go and see” and I said, “There is a forty minute wait at the moment, is that okay?” And they said, “No, not really, we’re in a hurry you see, could you not just-” So I said, “There is a queue system I’m afraid, we can only sit people down in the order that they leave their names. Would you like to wait?” They said, “Fine.” I said, “Could I take your name please?” And they said, “Rushin”. There was about a five second silence, while I stared at them, waiting for someone to laugh, but no one did, I looked at the family- and then to Kerrie, who just stared at me blankly, and then back to the family who also just stared at me blankly- and I put my hands on the host stand and silently convulsed with laughter for about five minutes. I was laughing too hard to explain the joke.”

1.18AM – On my life, with anonymous twitter
I had reason to believe my boyfriend had found my little safe place. I spoke to him, at great length, about how I wouldn’t be mad, I’d just be sad- and maybe a little embarassed. They get the same me, that you do- and I imagine the first question on their lips would be ‘so why did you feel the need to speak to 142 complete strangers?’ I’m still not sure how to answer that one. All I know is that it has helped. Somehow. In some strange way I feel just a little more myself again. Whether it’s because we need somewhere to blurt things without judgement, or, whether finding a bunch of people who like all the same things you do is as comforting as it would be in real life.
This entry was published on July 9, 2014 at 12:31 am. It’s filed under Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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