Telephone Terror.

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Telephone Terror _                Sammie Whyte

If asked to describe my work experience I could do so simply and without effort in three words: it was boring. If asked to write an essay on it I am posed with a slightly more substantial problem- a problem which has taken a lot of thought, a lot of lying and an obscene amount of caffeine to keep me awake long enough to finish it. Enjoy my essay as I did not enjoy my experience…  

The phone is ringing again but after the hundredth time of answering it, I have neither the strength nor will to do so again. I let it ring. The incessant whining continues on and on as loud and as easy to ignore as a scream for help. With more than a little reluctance, I stretch my hand out and pick up the receiver. The hundred and first call is not a cry for help, indeed it is nothing as glamorous or important for as soon as I announce my automated greeting, ”Fife Council Transport Services, how may I help?” the caller mumbles “wrong number” and the unmistakable sound of a slammed receiver echoes in my ear. Obscenities that I’m dying to scream out loud, run through my head but I stay silent and focus my eyes on a pen discarded in front of me. Fun, I think, is something that could not be used to describe my day.

The sad and exceptionally pathetic truth is that I had been so eager to show my supervisors, my parents and most of all myself, that I was mature and capable enough to integrate into the world of work. As soon as I stepped inside the door of the premises at Denburn Yard, I realised that this was not going to happen and I would have been more contented stepping right back out.

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Unfortunately for me, I was unable to turn around and leave as my Mum was behind me pushing me through the obscene purple door. Ironically, the work experience was intended to be a step towards independence, but I had ended up with my Mum tagging along to introduce me.  

After being marched up a series of stairs and through a long breezeblock passageway, we were greeted by an excessively cheery man. Standing there, overshadowed by my Mum and this man (currently engaging in sickening small-talk), I was suddenly hit by the impression that this was a man more eager ...

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