Every day, I enter the office in the mornings, and I don't leave until the sky is dark.
I realised how wretched my working hours were one day when I returned from an assignment and saw a friend from marketing going home, when I was just preparing to go back into office and file my story for the next day.
I was also tying my shoelaces when I waved at her, and when I got up, I promptly realised that I'd been kneeling in mud and my jeans had a huge brown stain over the kneecap area. Now that I think about it, I should have put my other knee in the mud too so that they'd be equal. Having one kneecap in mud is bad, having both is perhaps worse, but at least they would match and people wouldn't stare as much.
That day, I eventually left the office at 1130pm, and I left at 11pm the next day too.
The working hours have taken a toll on me, even if I don't want to admit it. I find myself wishing for a break, but I don't see any coming, and the work is neverending. The competition is fierce too because as of now there are 11 interns in the newsroom, and each one of them is fighting for stories.
This is especially so for those who want the scholarship, because they have just up to April to prove themselves. I know deep inside they probably resent me because I'm denying them chances to shine, but that is reality.
I try my best to pretend that I am oblivious to the jealousy and envy that comes when they realise I have stories to cover and they don't. The paper only has space for that many stories, and that is not including the ones the full time reporters put out. Its a mad rush to clock up as many stories as I can in the 6 months so I make the most out of my experience.
I'm lucky in a sense that I'm one of the first ones my editors go to when they have something, but I know the moment I take a break, there will be 10 other hungry interns waiting to snap up the opportunities.
It's really a dog eat dog world out there. Even as an intern. And so the rat race goes on.