Freelancewritingtips.com: On being subbed in the supermarket

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]