As the new hire, I have been asked if I could write a post about my first few days working at Penguin and, because I haven’t actually signed a contract yet and they might at any moment choose to evict me without notice or pay, I have decided it might be a good career move to agree.
The first thing I could say is that it’s possible that some people here at Penguin headquarters have perhaps not ‘moved on’ from Sam the Copywriter, for whom I am maternity cover. Often when I am talking to one of my colleagues, their attention and their gaze will drift to a point somewhere off in the distance and they will begin to loudly reminisce. ‘Sam always produced such excellent copy. Sam was such good fun. Sam was so very pregnant.’ And when I tell them, for not the first time, that I’m not Sam the Copywriter, only then does their stare focus on the very centre of me and, with a frown and considerable distaste, they say, ‘No. No you’re not.’
Still, it’s work, which is a good thing for a young man to be doing. Yes, I’ll miss the long days spent deciding whether to watch Dragons’ Den on Dave or QI on Dave +1, finally settling on QI only to awaken from an accidental nap to discover with delight that – oh! – Dragons’ Den is on. But the bills don’t pay themselves, I suppose, not in old London town, anyway.
So I have determined to drag myself from bed each morning, take my race number and strap the bedraggled corpse of this septuagenarian company to my back, to have it ride me and my talents to greater success, more product shifted, bigger executive bonuses, &c.
...
I am not being entirely honest here. In fact, I am avoiding seriously describing working as a copywriter at Penguin for three reasons.
The first is that when I have attempted to describe my new job to my friends I tend to have some difficulty in convincing them that it is a job at all, and further difficulty persuading them that it is a job I could possibly deserve.
The second is that, even with incredulity suspended, I can see how it could be deeply annoying for somebody that I actually get paid for this. I come into an office full of lovely and enthusiastic people and get to read some of the finest books ever written (so far my charges have included Of Mice and Men, The Big Sleep, In Cold Blood and Rabbit, Run). Then I write a paragraph or two about them. There are a range of teas and coffees available. If that all gets too tiresome for me, I can choose to go and 'work' in a café-like room with a view over the river.
The third reason is that a lifetime of being a curmudgeon has not really prepared me for describing such a ... delightful set of circumstances. Just what do you say? It's fantastic. Just now I had to check through some covers in the Boys Own Books style. They're beautiful. It's exciting to be around these great, wonderfully designed books. Everyone is very nice. Sam left me half a box of Cornflakes. Life is good.
And I at last have the power to correct a regrettable mistake from the history of this blog. Let it be known that, contrary to what you may have read, Transformers was about the most fun it's possible to have in a cinema. That's right – down the memory hole you go, Sam's opinion.
Alan
Copywriter
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