I don't believe it. Four months ago I was a struggling freelance journalist looking for permanent employment. My dream job? A features writer for SL magazine. SL is a kick-ass funky, controversial mag aimed at young working professionals and students. Most people that work there end up at FHM, its older-brother magazine. I sent SL my CV hoping that they may have a position for me there. In the meantime, sick of waiting, I took my current job, as a copywriter in an advertising department. I love my job, I love the people I work with and I'm learning new things. About five minutes ago I get a phonecall from the editor of SL, whom I know, because I freelance for them sometimes.
Editor: I'd like to offer you a job as our features editor.
I nearly started crying. I can't leave my current job, as I've just started, and I don't want to look like a job-hopper. I had to turn it down. And now I'm just fucking depressed and annoyed that they hadn't got a hold of me sooner. Fuuuuuuuuuck! To add to this, the work I'm doing in advertising right now is tedious and boring. To think I could be writing about sex, drugs and rock 'n roll on a daily basis. Fuck fuckety fuck fuck fuck.