You Can't Hurry Love

Chapter Three

We pull up outside the office around 30 minutes later and I pay the driver and hop out, thanking him as I close the door and skip across the pavement, having to weave in and out of the people already on their commute to work.

I love this part of the city. The building I work in is situated on Southbank which overlooks the River Thames and I have to stop myself from staring out of the window all day, people watching. As much as it's an attribute to working as a journalist, I don't think my boss Diane would take too kindly to me doing it on the company's hours.

She's a tiny bit scary, Diane. I remember when she interviewed me two years ago. I was fresh-faced out of university, and I'd only applied for the job for the experience, I thought there was no way in the world I'd get it. I'd been working in a bar in Soho and was scrolling through my phone during a quiet period when an advert for a position of 'researcher' came up for S.E.L.F., a new magazine that was being launched and they were looking for someone who 'has a knowledge of media production and communication and the ability to work well with others'.

Well, I work well with people. Everyone here seems to like me, I remembered thinking to myself as a bubble of excitement formed in my stomach.

Do you have a passion for current affairs? Are you ready to put your communication skills to good use? We are starting a new magazine that focuses on the voice of the reader and we're looking for a brand-new team to front it. Read below for more information to see if this job is for you. Interviews are on floor sixteen of Chesterfield Tower, Carnaby Street on the 3rd of February at 9 am.

So, I'd applied.

I still remember the apprehension I'd felt as I sat down opposite her, knowing that everyone else in the waiting room was so much better prepared than I was, all with a portfolio perched keenly on their laps and I'd cursed myself for not being better prepared, but there just wasn't enough time. I'd only seen the advert the night before and had had to scramble to get what little work together I could.

It was when I was sitting in the interview room though, glancing nervously around, did I spot a photo of two smiling children perched joyfully on the edge of somewhere I was all too familiar with.

'Is that Giant's Causeway?' I'd asked, and she'd turned behind her to smile keenly at the photo.

'It is. Have you been?'

'Yes! I went with some friends at the end of last summer to celebrate handing in my dissertation. I love the history of the place. Did you know that there's something called a Wishing Chair that's formed in the stone? The legend is that it was made for a giant called Finn McCool and if you make a wish while sitting in it, it will come true.'

Diane nodded appreciatively. 'I know it well. It's a beautiful part of Ireland. So . . . you travel?' She then leant back in her chair, and I could tell she was assessing me.

'Not as much as I'd like to. I work in a bar at the moment but as soon as I can afford to, I'd love to see more of the world.'

'Where would you like to go?'

'Oh wow, where wouldn't I? Erm, I really want to visit Pamukkale one day, to see the sacred pools. And there's an article I read about a beach in California that's made up almost entirely of sea glass. I want to find all the natural beauty spots in the world, go off the beaten track.'

'You're very passionate about it, I see.' She'd smiled at me warmly before adding, 'right, let's get down to business' and we began the interview process, the tension I was feeling before suddenly a lot less prominent.

And now here I am, nearly two years down the line and I have to pinch myself every time I walk through these glass doors. The fact that little old me could have landed her perfect job still astounds me.