It all started early last Sunday morning when I was sitting peacefully
on my couch, sipping tea and reading the papers. I was flicked fairly
mindlessly, my brain pre-occupied by the pressing question “How early
is too early for yum cha?” and the related dilemma “Can I feasibly eat
prawn gow gees before 10am?” Just when I’d decided, “Yes! Yes I can!”,
my focus was suddenly drawn back to the newspaper by the unwelcome
sight of my own face staring back at me. And it wasn’t attached to this
Oh dear. Hate looking at pictures of myself in any context, let alone
the news section of the paper. Never a good thing. Instant dread.
Glanced quickly at the other photos on the page, scanned the headline
and ascertained it was something about magazine editors – of which I’m
no longer one but whatever.
The gist of the story was that the magazine industry was apparently in a “tizz” about some anonymous rumours on a website.
One of these rumours – are you sitting down? – was that “Mia Freedman
once sent a work experience person out to buy her son a banana.” A
banana. A BANANA.
Here’s a brief snapshot of what went through my head after reading that sentence.
1. Did I do that? Possibly. But more likely banana was for self. Son not partial to bananas.
2. Even if true about son, banana is fruit. Good Mother Points in that.
3. At least no mention of the time I sent Art Director to buy my son
McDonalds. That definitely happened. Look, she was going there anyway.
4. Why is shocking banana allegation not on page 1 where it belongs? 2020 Summit? Pah!
As my friends and family woke up and opened their own newspapers, my phone began to beep. “At least it wasn’t a Mars Bar!” texted my mum. “Selfish cow,” texted an editor friend. “Why didn’t you let work experience girl choose the cover and then take her out to dinner?”
During yum cha, and for the next few days, I thought a lot about work experience students and how their expectations have changed. In short: A Lot.
I started my own career doing work experience when I was 19 and my first boss was the wonderful Lisa Wilkinson.
Back then (in my day etc), I was grateful for the chance to get her coffee or her mail. I would have gladly washed Lisa’s car – or her feet – had I been asked. Heck, I would have blow-dried her dog (I do know an editor who was asked to do this when she herself did work experience at a magazine). During this time, I believe I was also regularly sent to fetch assorted muffins and sandwiches for staff. And one time? A peach. I know. But it’s true.