On being subbed in the supermarket: Freelancewritingtips.com

Statcounter

EVER wondered what goes on behind the scenes to bring you your weekend news and features? Well standing by the satsumas in Sainsbury’s yelling ‘I want to **** your ****’ into my mobile while Melissa fetched the bananas was just one of my challenges of freelancing for a Sunday paper.

I never thought it’d be possible to combine the demands of a young family with those of a busy newsdesk so to find myself thinking about both on a Saturday morning came as quite a shock. This particular week I was contacted help find not one, not two but three people to interview. Knowing so many people meant, touch wood, there was usually a way of sourcing what they asked for.

On Thursday they wanted an overweight 15-year-old and then a woman in her 40s or 50s. That was easy enough, give or take the stress of the time between finding them and actually interviewing them – I always assume the worst and think they will ‘drop out’.

Then at around 3pm on Friday I got the call to say they wanted someone who had been ‘stalked’ by text. Just 20 minutes later, having confirmed cursory details and her willingness to be pictured I was phoning back to say I’d got someone. So there I was the next morning re-iterating the sinister details as the desk worked my copy, submitted the day before, into what was being prepared in London. Other shoppers, I kid you not, were rooted to the spot, listening to my every word.“I want to **** your ****,” I repeated at the top of my voice.

The newsdesk couldn’t hear me the first time as the tannoy was announcing a need for more cashiers.“She’s 30, I sent a note,” I said.

“Yes he did threaten violence, he said he’d drug her, you've already got all that, haven't you, have the subs taken it out?” “No I can’t I’m in the supermarket,” I said as the news editor asked me to send an ‘add’ over by email.

As he now had to write in the further example of an abusive text message himself, I was forced to repeat the four-letter words while avoiding the gaze of the elderly lady who was hovering by the grapes.

Then I had to repeat another of the texts: “I saw you at the bar, looked straight into your eyes,” I muttered and this was enough to convince my audience that I was stark raving mad and they quickly turned their backs to continue filling their trolleys.

Melissa was also back with the bananas. “All right Sweetheart,” I said, smiling and we carried on towards the stock of Emily's favourite mushroom soup.

‘So that’s what they mean by juggling’ I laughed to myself and continued with the weekly shop –avoiding the shocked gazes of the other customers. Perhaps we should've bought some more soap , to wash my mouth out. [Linda]