I'd be lying if I ever made the claim that I've ever shaken my homesickness since first arriving in London almost three months ago - I haven't - but I'd also have to say that I have, in many ways, acclimated myself to the city, to the point where I often find myself forgetting that I’m an ocean’s width away from my hometown in central New Jersey.
That being said, today offered the blaring reminder that I am, in fact, a foreigner to this country. To say it was easy to get myself out of bed to go to work on Thanksgiving Day, only the greatest holiday ever invented, would be a flat-out lie. I moped the entire way to Gloucester Road tube station, and whenever Christmas songs dared to turn up on my iPod shuffle, a pang of instant homesickness would stab me out of the blue. It’s not so much the turkey dinner, or the American football games, or even the day off from work that I missed out on this year. It was just the fact that it served as another painstaking reminder of just how far away home really is… although, upon second glance at my calendar, I suppose it’s not very far at all.
Nevertheless, I was not in the happiest of moods when I stumbled into work, particularly when a full hour had passed before a single person (of a group of journalists!) remembered that it was Thanksgiving. They all turned to me and apologetically wished me a happy holiday, before stacking nine hours’ worth of work on my desk.
Needless to say, it was a challenging day. But my morning homesickness eventually faded into determination and false hope that I’d be sent home early for the day. I wasn’t, but the idea kept my attitude positive, even as I pursued a horribly challenging story covering a Japanese-based engineering company. The story itself wasn’t necessarily a difficult topic – I didn’t have to deal so much with pre-tax profits and adjusted earnings and everything that goes in one ear and comes out the other at the day’s end. It was the fact that there was no story – and, with just my luck, this was the one time that my editor asked me to write a longer feature. Seriously? Of all the times I dug up sources and picked up the phone and harassed analysts, with no understanding of what exactly it was I was harassing them about… of all those times, THIS was the time that they wanted me to write a full-fledge story? Oh boy, Happy Thanksgiving.
On another note – yesterday, halfway through the day, my other editor walked over to my desk with his usual quiet disposition and said to me: “Alyssa, I wanted to let you know… there’s an office Christmas party on December 11th, and you’re more than welcome to come.” Christmas party! Not only am I not fired, but I’m coming to the office Christmas party? Honestly, you’d think the captain of the high school football team had just asked me to my senior prom. I was so happy and so relieved that last week’s fiasco had not only failed to persuade them to fire me and thus destroy my grade-point average, but they were still considering me a part of the office! I caught myself before I replied, “You bet your bottom I’m going to be at the Christmas party!”
Aside from the overwhelming urge to climb to the top of the tallest building in London’s bank district and mull over my options a few times, I have to say that, bad moments aside, I do actually have a love for this internship. I don’t take back what I said about not wanting to become a financial reporter, but I don’t necessarily hate my job, and I do find parts of it to be very rewarding. Last Friday, while working the features desk, they entrusted me to not only write my own stories and edit their work, but they actually let me place a page using Quark, a program that I proudly list under the “skills” section of my resume, yet one that I also have hardly touched since my former position as senior editor on the high school newspaper staff. Nevertheless, I remembered enough to get by, and lo and behold, come Monday, there was my page, exactly as I had set it out with all of the edits that I had chosen to implement. Alas, a sense of accomplishment and a return of confidence!
Before I finish off this post, I also need to back-track as I failed to mention an important cultural experience I had a few weeks ago on Armistice Day. While I realize that the day is the same of the American equivalent, veteran’s day, there was a moment where I really earned a renewed sense of respect for British culture – and that was the moment of silence. Grant it, there have been a number of times during which I wish there had been a moment of silence in our newsroom (particularly when I’m on the phone), but it was absolutely impressive, not just how everyone quieted in time for the national reflection, but how everyone had actually prepared beforehand. In an office where phones are constantly ringing off the hook, every single reporter hung up from their phone conversations, no matter how important, and told those on the other line, “I apologize but I will have to call you back after the national moment of silence.” And, in return, not a single phone rang during the entire moment in which we gathered around the television for BBC’s coverage of the day of remembrance.
Being that I can still recall September 11, 2002, the first day in my 20-year memory during which our President implemented a national moment of silence - a tradition which, unfortunately, seemed to fall through within the next year or two to follow - I was absolutely moved by how dedicated every single individual in my office had been to commemorating an event that happened over 90 years ago.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Just what you want to be, you will be in the end
DISCLAIMER: Excuse the format, lameness and lack of contractions in this post... the truth is, we're required to write blog posts for class and being that I'm SO exhausted (and quite tired of looking at computer screens all day), I decided to be lazy and copy & paste my entry for class into this blog... I'll eventually go back and add photos and be really-super-obnoxious and re-publish all of the photoless posts later. But until then... enjoy (or don't, since this is a class assignment)... ALSO, I realized that I had the name of my organization in my original class entry - but being that I'm too lazy to reword things, I'm putting in asterisks where I named the paper. HAHA. Sorry =) Needless to say - not one of my better posts. Bear with me.
When I first walked through the doorway, towards the receptionist’s desk in front of the ******* newsroom, I was more nervous than I had probably ever been for an interview, let alone an interview for an unpaid position. Although I may have been through the routine before a number of times in attempts to brace myself for the real world of declining readership and the rise in online journalism, for whatever reasons, I was absolutely shaking in my boots as I sat on the couch waiting to meet my soon-to-be editors.
Despite all of the pep talk that I had heard from our advisors prior to my interview, I somehow knew in my gut that mine would hardly incorporate a laid-back environment or talks over tea and biscuits - let alone a trip to a nearby pub. Nevertheless, it came as very little surprise to me that I was greeted with an empty board room - and what could have served as interrogation lights in a penitentiary - and a one-on-one session with each of the two news editors. While they seemed very nice, they were anything but shy about their expectations for the intern position – nor did they cover up the startling statistic that two of their last five interns were fired.
Being that I still have much to learn about life in the United Kingdom, coupled with the fact that had I still been in the United States I would still know very little about financial news, I was completely certain – and still very much afraid – that I would become another statistic for them to tell their future applicants.
That being said, a lot has already changed. On day one of my internship, I walked in the door at 10a.m. sharp, which is what I was told to do, and yet editors and reporters were creeping through into the newsroom as late as half-past ten. I must have been there maybe six minutes before the head editor, **let's call him Bob**, turned to me and said, “Do you want the BTG story? You can take the BTG story” and walked back to his desk on the other room. The first thought that popped into my mind was, of course, “What in God's name is BTG?”
I am not exactly sure how I not only managed to get through that first day, but also, how exactly nine hours, with no lunch-break, managed to fly by so quickly. And, more importantly, I am not sure how it happened, but I not only wrote that BTG story, it gave me my first byline in their paper the next morning.
I tried to remain stealth about hunting down a copy of that Friday’s paper in a frantic search to see my name in print. I had written before for a national U.S. publication, with roughly the same circulation rates as *****, but there was something so rewarding about seeing my name in print… in a foreign newspaper… discussing a topic for which, just 24 hours earlier, I had known nothing.
As I’m writing this post after having finished only five days of my internship, I have already had several bylines in their paper, I have been sent out twice to collect a dozen interviews on financial and banking topics and – oh, yes – I have even been humbled with compliments by my editors. While each day has, thankfully, allowed for me to look back in retrospect with pride for my accomplishments, every single day has been a complete and utter challenge.
My internship has already taught – or at least reminded me of – several things. The first, being that I am an American, and while I have not ever really forgotten this, there have already been countless times where something t that would be common-knowledge for anyone and everyone in the newsroom remains something blatantly foreign to me. While everyone has been very helpful and understanding thus far of our cultural differences, there have been little moments that serve as a reminder that my lack of background knowledge in both the British financial world and British culture can be fairly humorous at times. It came as a bit of a reality-check for me when I walked into the office one day and proclaimed that I had stayed up the whole night to finally have the chance to see my favorite American baseball team had win the world championship, and yet about half of the people in the room had never even heard of the New York Yankees. That being said, I contributed nothing to the same reporters’ conversation about football a few hours later.
The second lesson that I have already learned from my internship is simple: I am not a kid anymore. Now, grant it, I have realized this a long time ago, but I have realized that, had I taken on an internship in a financial daily newspaper in America (which, by the way, would never happen because undergraduates very rarely receive placement with daily newspapers in the United States, let alone with newspapers that cover topics of which they have no familiarity) I would still be lauded for my successes, specifically because of my age. In other words, although I entered ***** knowing that I would not be “babied” through my endeavors, I have essentially been on my own throughout my first five days. While there are plenty of helpful and generous reporters in the office, everyone is too busy to assist me with however few questions I may limit myself to, and I find myself having to learn things through trial and error.
However, I have noticed, particularly today, that my efforts have not actually gone unnoticed. Just as I was growing more and more convinced that I was doing a poor job and that I was secretly becoming a burden rather than an asset to the organization, as I got up from my desk to leave work (at 7p.m., as usual) both the head editor and the news editor took the time to personally thank me for my work and congratulate me on my early accomplishments.
I still walk into work every day with the fear of failing – of completely blanking on the difference between pre-tax profits and adjusted profits, or confusing banks, or enduring plain-old writer’s block – but the challenges, thus far, have been nothing less than rewarding, In the past two days, I have taken on controversial topics and have actually successfully convinced nearby banking and investing professionals to comment – on the record – despite the fact that they were leery about expressing their opinions publicly. And, oh yeah, I accomplished this feats in the pouring rain.
When I first walked through the doorway, towards the receptionist’s desk in front of the ******* newsroom, I was more nervous than I had probably ever been for an interview, let alone an interview for an unpaid position. Although I may have been through the routine before a number of times in attempts to brace myself for the real world of declining readership and the rise in online journalism, for whatever reasons, I was absolutely shaking in my boots as I sat on the couch waiting to meet my soon-to-be editors.
Despite all of the pep talk that I had heard from our advisors prior to my interview, I somehow knew in my gut that mine would hardly incorporate a laid-back environment or talks over tea and biscuits - let alone a trip to a nearby pub. Nevertheless, it came as very little surprise to me that I was greeted with an empty board room - and what could have served as interrogation lights in a penitentiary - and a one-on-one session with each of the two news editors. While they seemed very nice, they were anything but shy about their expectations for the intern position – nor did they cover up the startling statistic that two of their last five interns were fired.
Being that I still have much to learn about life in the United Kingdom, coupled with the fact that had I still been in the United States I would still know very little about financial news, I was completely certain – and still very much afraid – that I would become another statistic for them to tell their future applicants.
That being said, a lot has already changed. On day one of my internship, I walked in the door at 10a.m. sharp, which is what I was told to do, and yet editors and reporters were creeping through into the newsroom as late as half-past ten. I must have been there maybe six minutes before the head editor, **let's call him Bob**, turned to me and said, “Do you want the BTG story? You can take the BTG story” and walked back to his desk on the other room. The first thought that popped into my mind was, of course, “What in God's name is BTG?”
I am not exactly sure how I not only managed to get through that first day, but also, how exactly nine hours, with no lunch-break, managed to fly by so quickly. And, more importantly, I am not sure how it happened, but I not only wrote that BTG story, it gave me my first byline in their paper the next morning.
I tried to remain stealth about hunting down a copy of that Friday’s paper in a frantic search to see my name in print. I had written before for a national U.S. publication, with roughly the same circulation rates as *****, but there was something so rewarding about seeing my name in print… in a foreign newspaper… discussing a topic for which, just 24 hours earlier, I had known nothing.
As I’m writing this post after having finished only five days of my internship, I have already had several bylines in their paper, I have been sent out twice to collect a dozen interviews on financial and banking topics and – oh, yes – I have even been humbled with compliments by my editors. While each day has, thankfully, allowed for me to look back in retrospect with pride for my accomplishments, every single day has been a complete and utter challenge.
My internship has already taught – or at least reminded me of – several things. The first, being that I am an American, and while I have not ever really forgotten this, there have already been countless times where something t that would be common-knowledge for anyone and everyone in the newsroom remains something blatantly foreign to me. While everyone has been very helpful and understanding thus far of our cultural differences, there have been little moments that serve as a reminder that my lack of background knowledge in both the British financial world and British culture can be fairly humorous at times. It came as a bit of a reality-check for me when I walked into the office one day and proclaimed that I had stayed up the whole night to finally have the chance to see my favorite American baseball team had win the world championship, and yet about half of the people in the room had never even heard of the New York Yankees. That being said, I contributed nothing to the same reporters’ conversation about football a few hours later.
The second lesson that I have already learned from my internship is simple: I am not a kid anymore. Now, grant it, I have realized this a long time ago, but I have realized that, had I taken on an internship in a financial daily newspaper in America (which, by the way, would never happen because undergraduates very rarely receive placement with daily newspapers in the United States, let alone with newspapers that cover topics of which they have no familiarity) I would still be lauded for my successes, specifically because of my age. In other words, although I entered ***** knowing that I would not be “babied” through my endeavors, I have essentially been on my own throughout my first five days. While there are plenty of helpful and generous reporters in the office, everyone is too busy to assist me with however few questions I may limit myself to, and I find myself having to learn things through trial and error.
However, I have noticed, particularly today, that my efforts have not actually gone unnoticed. Just as I was growing more and more convinced that I was doing a poor job and that I was secretly becoming a burden rather than an asset to the organization, as I got up from my desk to leave work (at 7p.m., as usual) both the head editor and the news editor took the time to personally thank me for my work and congratulate me on my early accomplishments.
I still walk into work every day with the fear of failing – of completely blanking on the difference between pre-tax profits and adjusted profits, or confusing banks, or enduring plain-old writer’s block – but the challenges, thus far, have been nothing less than rewarding, In the past two days, I have taken on controversial topics and have actually successfully convinced nearby banking and investing professionals to comment – on the record – despite the fact that they were leery about expressing their opinions publicly. And, oh yeah, I accomplished this feats in the pouring rain.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Sell the kids for food, Weather changes moods..
I had to switch back to Nirvana for my title, otherwise all of my blogposts from here on out would be Christmas songs haha (I'm kind of a little addicted to Pandora's holiday selections.. thank you VPN.American.Edu for existing).
Nevertheless, I thought the opening lines to In Bloom pretty much sum up my weekend - out of money, out of food, and in a rut whenever it rains outside.
Anywho, I literally did nothing and I hate that I did nothing because weekends are prized possessions now that FIE so graciously forked over a very challenging IIC seminar (whatever IIC stands for I have no idea)... but basically for an hour and a half every Monday we discuss our feelings about our internships (aka, I will probably whine about the sheer terror I feel every Wednesday and Thursday) and oh yeah.. P.S. Students? You have a 3,000-word paper on top of finals and the 6,000 other powerpoint presentations due in that week's span. I imagine Dec 10th-Dec 15th are going to be some of the most anxious and challenging days you could really ever fathom abroad.
However, the build-up to Nov 28th, when Chris gets here, is pretty overwhelming, too. I talked his (eyes??) off today on gchat because in the few and precious hours when I don't have any obnoxious assignments to rush through (although I kind of did at the time) I can't help but sometimes stare at my calendar in anticipation of the few weekends of excitement and freedom that are remaining in the London program. Here's a depressing way of looking at it - not including the weekend we all leave, there's only 5 pairs of Friday & Saturday nights left. You mean to tell me that the maximum amount of weekends that I can lose my voice by screaming at mediocre (but when you're holding a drink or two - FABULOUS) rock bands and sweat off several pounds dancing at O'Neill's is FIVE? (Well, actually six. I could squeeze in a run before hopping on the plane back to Jersey).
Anyway, tomorrow is Tuesday.. with that comes one more opportunity to rush out of FIE's building in search for another Christmas lighting ceremony... but it's also the last remaining day before voyaging back to the office and putting my nose to the grindstone. It's satisfying work, let me tell you, but it's also my first taste of the real world. I miss when people were impressed at my accomplishments because of my age. Bye bye, teen years. Hello adulthood.
Nevertheless, I thought the opening lines to In Bloom pretty much sum up my weekend - out of money, out of food, and in a rut whenever it rains outside.
Anywho, I literally did nothing and I hate that I did nothing because weekends are prized possessions now that FIE so graciously forked over a very challenging IIC seminar (whatever IIC stands for I have no idea)... but basically for an hour and a half every Monday we discuss our feelings about our internships (aka, I will probably whine about the sheer terror I feel every Wednesday and Thursday) and oh yeah.. P.S. Students? You have a 3,000-word paper on top of finals and the 6,000 other powerpoint presentations due in that week's span. I imagine Dec 10th-Dec 15th are going to be some of the most anxious and challenging days you could really ever fathom abroad.
However, the build-up to Nov 28th, when Chris gets here, is pretty overwhelming, too. I talked his (eyes??) off today on gchat because in the few and precious hours when I don't have any obnoxious assignments to rush through (although I kind of did at the time) I can't help but sometimes stare at my calendar in anticipation of the few weekends of excitement and freedom that are remaining in the London program. Here's a depressing way of looking at it - not including the weekend we all leave, there's only 5 pairs of Friday & Saturday nights left. You mean to tell me that the maximum amount of weekends that I can lose my voice by screaming at mediocre (but when you're holding a drink or two - FABULOUS) rock bands and sweat off several pounds dancing at O'Neill's is FIVE? (Well, actually six. I could squeeze in a run before hopping on the plane back to Jersey).
Anyway, tomorrow is Tuesday.. with that comes one more opportunity to rush out of FIE's building in search for another Christmas lighting ceremony... but it's also the last remaining day before voyaging back to the office and putting my nose to the grindstone. It's satisfying work, let me tell you, but it's also my first taste of the real world. I miss when people were impressed at my accomplishments because of my age. Bye bye, teen years. Hello adulthood.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog..
So in the past week, I've overcome the first of two expected bouts of extreme homesickness (missing Halloween back home), seen my Yankees win the WORLD SERIES (at 5:30am.. 2 hrs before I had to get up), handed in a legitimately tough paper and completed the second of many obnoxious powerpoint presentations. Oh yeah, and I started a little thing called my internship...
For googling purposes, I won't name the organization that I'm working with on here, but if your facebook friends with me (or friends with me at all haha) you should probably know... anyway, I'm working with a daily financial newspaper, I'll give you that much.
And guess what. I don't know a THING about finance.
I literally was shaking in my heels as I walked to the tube on Wednesday for my first day. I know I've been nervous for every first day of work that I've ever had (yes, even Dairy Queen - which, believe it or not, the first day at DQ is really tough). But to be thrown in a scenario where you know in a matter of hours you're expected to have interviewed half a dozen people written half a dozen stories using terms and accounts of events that you've never even heard of - (particularly because all the banks and firms are UK BANKS AND FIRMS.) it's a terrifying thought. And oh yeah, these people are accountable for SIX CREDITS of my 15 credit GPA this semester. Talk about excruciating amounts of pressure.
But, I got through that first day - honestly, I said a prayer of gratitude before I even made it to the stairwell to leave the building. I was in absolute complete shock. I had turned in a story about God knows what - literally, I don't even remember, much less understand what it is I turned in - and interviewed half a dozen people on the streets about a topic which I understood very little. Oh, and I worked from quarter to 10am until quarter to 7pm with no breaks - thank you DQ for preparing me for that little facet in life.
But, the things these people turn out in such a limited amount of time on a DAILY basis - it's absolutely astonishing.. and what's even more crippling, is that I'm pretty sure one of the editors is about my age, if I understood her correctly. Talk about feeling humbled.
Thursday was a little better - particularly because I wrote a story that gave me my first byline in their paper!! So exciting, although I have SO MUCH to improve upon that it literally terrifies me.
Yesterday, alleluia, I worked for the features desk because the financial people don't report on Fridays.. whereas the office normally has close to 40-50 people in the newsroom alone M-TH, this time, there were maybe 8 people - and that was after it took a few hours for people to come in. It was so much more laid back, and I was much less terrified despite the fact that they had actually technically given me almost 3 times the amount of work that the finance desks have handed to me. Nevertheless, it was suchhhh a breath of relief to write about properties for sale and the latest in ski fashions rather than pre-tax profits and revenues and overweight ratings.
So this weekend? I spent last night sitting on my computer watching episodes of Boy Meets World because the thought of going out just sounded like waaay too much stress haha. It wasn't the same kind of staying-in as last week where I was absolutely depressed at the thought of lying in bed all weekend. I NEEDED to just sit there and allow braincells to commit suicide while watching hours upon hours of American sitcoms. It felt SO GOOD. Although, the damper is that I have a major paper due Tuesday and God help me, I have no clue how to write it.
It's also difficult because now I'm already seeing why so many people told me Christmas in London is phenomenal.. I thought they were just referring to shopping and pretty lights but OHMYGOSH there are SO MANY free events including more Christmas lightings, TWO PARADES, a pillow fight flash mob and (da da da DA!) SANTA CLAUS!!! Harrod's has NYC's Macy's beat by a good 3 weeks on that one.. it's so excting yet SO SO frustrating because my work load has quadrupled in the past 8 days.. but I'm sorry, I cannot keep turning down free CHRISTMAS events. And, thank you God for B101's online Christmas music feed... honestly, when I'm at work I crave Christmas music.. it's so calming and reassuring and, yes, it serves as a reminder that I'll be home in 6 weeks. Perry Como's (There's No Place Like) Home for the Holidays has ALWAYS been my favorite Christmas song since I was a little girl, but it takes on new meaning here... I hit the nail on the head when I said that starting work would help dull the homesickness because it keeps me busy (and stressed!) and it allows for less time for me to sit on my top bunk and stare at the ceiling and think about how I'm missing homecooked meals and Yankee parades and my 3rd favorite holiday (Halloween's over and I missed it, you blockheads!)... Although while we're discussing things to be depressed about - I won't even go into detail about the status of my bank account. Ohmygoodness it's absolutely painful, I can't even describe. For a person as anal about finance as I am, to see my bank account officially dip into the triple digits literally makes me sick to my stomach. Then again, it happened after buying tickets to see U2 in NJ and booking a hostel for me and Christopher, so that really helps to alleviate the pain quite a bit. Spring semester is going to be TOUGH though because I HAVE HAVE HAVE to find a job with a lot of hours. There's no other alternative. Oh, and I may be taking 18 credits. OUCCCHH.
Speaking of Christopher, I'm stealing a page from his book and I've elected to get up early to walk to Kensington Gardens - not so much to take photos (although I'm sure I will) but just to enjoy it. It's a beautiful, cold day in London today with absolute clear bluer than blue skies and I have to start learning to make time to enjoy that. After all, with the status of my bank account, it may be a long, long time before I ever do again.
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