Geli Voyante's Hot or Not Read Free Page B

Everyone I know spends most of their working day pretending to work and a small proportion of their time actually working. Most people I know don’t have the slightest clue what their job really is and whether their seemingly minuscule contribution even makes a difference in the grander scheme of things. Most suspect it doesn’t.
    Let’s face it , New News could set up an automated computer program with some fancy algorithm to select the daily Hot or Not picks. I am not an integral part of this procedure. With regular thoughts like these, it’s no wonder I often feel bored and pointless at work, even though I’m assured I am a key part of the New News team when I raise these concerns at my appraisal. I know Glinda feels the same way in her job. As she often remarks, a twelve-year-old or a trained chimpanzee could do it. Where’s the job satisfaction from that disturbing insight?
    Glinda works in fashion PR, which as far as PR goes is the lowest of the low in terms of job content and pay packet when you first start out. This is because of the perceived glamour and number of bodies willing to work slavishly long hours for peanuts to get their foot in the door – this is a job Glinda fought to get.
    L uckily, she has parental support. They let her, and therefore me, live in their gorgeous Notting Hill apartment at quite a cheap rate. Most people starting out in her field aren’t this fortunate. They either struggle on their meagre salary to live somewhere central or face a nightmare commute, a commute that means they can’t even supplement their salary by taking a second job. Not that there’s enough time for a second job. Several people we know gave up their dream job in order to live a less poverty-stricken life. It’s a tough call – do you live to work, or work to live? It has to be work to live, right?
    Glinda ’s dream means being treated like a dog at Candygurl PR – she is treated as their slave – but she’s a fighter. Even though she’s a comfortable size ten-twelve, short, with hair some would describe as mousey blonde and a smattering of freckles she doesn’t conceal, she knows she doesn’t scream fashion PR gurl based on her appearance. But, she has the determination of a dog on heat, and this meant she finally managed to snag the Candygurl PR job after a double-dozen’s worth of rejections, if not more. She was tenacious and it paid off, even if it means she is unlikely to reap the proper success, credit and respect she deserves for a long time.
    What else about Glinds? Well, s he’s clever. She has a First in Economics and French from Leeds, yet prefers the dizzying world of fashion to life in the serious world. That’s where we met, at Leeds, in our second year. We met on the infamous Otley Pub Run and ended up bonding in the loos, between vomiting. Don’t judge us, we were students. It happens.
    Something must have clicked that evening between us though because we ended up becoming firm friends, sharing a house in Headingley in our final year. It was a stark contrast to where we’d respectively grown-up. I was reared on blue skies and crisp modern architecture in Durban; Glinda on the mock-Tudor style so popular in certain parts of Berkshire. But, it was home, and we became great lovers of the dry-stone walls and rolling hills of the Dales, often heading up to Malhamdale and the surrounding areas to spend the day rambling around, much to the amazement of everyone who knew us. This included Tiggy Boodles who, unfortunately, wound up living next door to us with her motley crew.
    Tiggy preferred spending her Saturdays hitting the Victoria Quarter – Leeds’ awesome shopping arcade – much to her mum and stepfather’s dismay. They were especially peeved to hear I spent mine rambling around in a free leisure pursuit injecting myself with healthy fresh air. In fact, they insisted when they were over from Durban to visit Tiggy that they, and therefore Tiggy too, would join us in the Dales.