building’s floor’s, and it was really something. At The Chronicle, there’d been three small rooms, one for each department. Here – I had no idea how many different departments there were, but I’m guessing way more than three…
‘You get used to it,’ said Tegan, realizing that I was pretty overwhelmed. ‘Eighteen thousand employees,’ she said. ‘Not quite as big as Twenty-first Century Fox, but you know… not far off.’
Eighteen thousand employees? How will I fit in here ?
‘They’re not all in this building, of course,’ said Tegan, seeing my eyes boggling at the figures. ‘But a lot of them are.’
We began walking across the enormous floor, past row upon row of reporters, advertisers, whatever they all were… It sounded as though every single phone in the building was ringing at once, and the noise of people talking was incredible. It was as if every single person in the room was dealing with a breaking news story, as if there’d just been some kind of front-page natural disaster, or international terrorist act… There hadn’t, as far as I knew. I guessed it was even worse at those times.
‘This is it,’ said Tegan, finally leading us to a slightly cramped desk. ‘Home sweet home.’ The desk was taken up largely by a sleek, ultra-modern computer monitor. It had to be at least twenty-eight inches wide. Every single person in the office had one. I wondered how much Redmond Cooper must have invested in the company to be able to afford to give his each of his employees one of these.
‘You’ll take the desk next to me,’ she said, pointing to an empty desk with a similarly colossal monitor, but nothing else on it. ‘If it’s okay with you, I’ve got an assignment I need to finish up, so you just get yourself logged onto the system, pick a password, make sure your emails are working okay. And then I’ll start showing you the ropes in half an hour.’
Before waiting for my response, Tegan put on her headset, and sat at her desk, typing away. I looked at the notepad she occasionally glanced down at, and was horrified to see a page full of symbols. Short-hand. It was like looking at hieroglyphics. Does everyone presume I know shorthand?
I sat down at my desk, putting my handbag at my feet, hoping the turkey salad I had in my lunchbox wouldn’t go bad if I didn’t put it in the refrigerator. Tegan didn’t seem in the mood for questions right now, though, so I left her to it. I located the small round button on the computer under the desk, and switched it on.
The monitor made a quick crackling noise, and then came to life. Two words flashed on to the screen. Create password.
I thought about it for a moment, and then typed: ‘peace’.
This password is not deemed secure enough , it said. You must use at least one number and one capital letter.
So I typed ‘P3ac3’. It looked silly, but it did the trick, and logged me on to the system.
This computer started up so much quicker than the one I’d been using at The Chronicle. I bet it would be great for playing video games on , I thought, and then kicked myself. You’re not a goofy uni student any more, Rose. You’re a woman. A trainee journalist.
The word ‘journalist’ sounded so exotic to me. I’d taken an etymology module as part of my Language Degree. The root of the word ‘journalism’ comes from the French ‘journal’, which in turn comes from the Latin ‘diurnal’, meaning ‘daily’. The world’s first newspaper was called the Acta Diurna (acta meaning proceedings) and it was a handwritten bulletin, which was put up daily in the Forum – the main public square in ancient Rome. I liked that. The idea that people would walk across the city to read the daily news. It conjured up a real sense of community. I wonder how far people used to travel, in order to get the news. It seemed amazing that these days you could get it at the press of a button. Your phone could even ping it to you without being asked.
Microsoft
‘You get used to it,’ said Tegan, realizing that I was pretty overwhelmed. ‘Eighteen thousand employees,’ she said. ‘Not quite as big as Twenty-first Century Fox, but you know… not far off.’
Eighteen thousand employees? How will I fit in here ?
‘They’re not all in this building, of course,’ said Tegan, seeing my eyes boggling at the figures. ‘But a lot of them are.’
We began walking across the enormous floor, past row upon row of reporters, advertisers, whatever they all were… It sounded as though every single phone in the building was ringing at once, and the noise of people talking was incredible. It was as if every single person in the room was dealing with a breaking news story, as if there’d just been some kind of front-page natural disaster, or international terrorist act… There hadn’t, as far as I knew. I guessed it was even worse at those times.
‘This is it,’ said Tegan, finally leading us to a slightly cramped desk. ‘Home sweet home.’ The desk was taken up largely by a sleek, ultra-modern computer monitor. It had to be at least twenty-eight inches wide. Every single person in the office had one. I wondered how much Redmond Cooper must have invested in the company to be able to afford to give his each of his employees one of these.
‘You’ll take the desk next to me,’ she said, pointing to an empty desk with a similarly colossal monitor, but nothing else on it. ‘If it’s okay with you, I’ve got an assignment I need to finish up, so you just get yourself logged onto the system, pick a password, make sure your emails are working okay. And then I’ll start showing you the ropes in half an hour.’
Before waiting for my response, Tegan put on her headset, and sat at her desk, typing away. I looked at the notepad she occasionally glanced down at, and was horrified to see a page full of symbols. Short-hand. It was like looking at hieroglyphics. Does everyone presume I know shorthand?
I sat down at my desk, putting my handbag at my feet, hoping the turkey salad I had in my lunchbox wouldn’t go bad if I didn’t put it in the refrigerator. Tegan didn’t seem in the mood for questions right now, though, so I left her to it. I located the small round button on the computer under the desk, and switched it on.
The monitor made a quick crackling noise, and then came to life. Two words flashed on to the screen. Create password.
I thought about it for a moment, and then typed: ‘peace’.
This password is not deemed secure enough , it said. You must use at least one number and one capital letter.
So I typed ‘P3ac3’. It looked silly, but it did the trick, and logged me on to the system.
This computer started up so much quicker than the one I’d been using at The Chronicle. I bet it would be great for playing video games on , I thought, and then kicked myself. You’re not a goofy uni student any more, Rose. You’re a woman. A trainee journalist.
The word ‘journalist’ sounded so exotic to me. I’d taken an etymology module as part of my Language Degree. The root of the word ‘journalism’ comes from the French ‘journal’, which in turn comes from the Latin ‘diurnal’, meaning ‘daily’. The world’s first newspaper was called the Acta Diurna (acta meaning proceedings) and it was a handwritten bulletin, which was put up daily in the Forum – the main public square in ancient Rome. I liked that. The idea that people would walk across the city to read the daily news. It conjured up a real sense of community. I wonder how far people used to travel, in order to get the news. It seemed amazing that these days you could get it at the press of a button. Your phone could even ping it to you without being asked.
Microsoft
Similar Books
