|Published December 14, 2008.|
|Better Things To Do|
|To a certain mayor.|
I book you two months in advance to be interviewed for my broadcast journalism final on camera. I call to confirm 2 days before. Everything is good.
7 minutes before you are supposed to be sitting in the chair, mic checked, and ready to roll, you have your assistant call me and inform me your back hurts. Poor baby.
Thats fine. But the fact that you would have had to leave 40 minutes before that, I am sure you could have given me more of a heads up. Perhaps even call me yourself?
You screwed me over for my interview. But have no fear, a certain former mayor from across the Harbour was more then happy to lend me a hand. I am sure she was more interesting to watch then you would ever be.
Don't be a dick. Don't stand me up. Don't think because I am a student and because it's not live, that it doesn't matter.
So thank you, for giving me a taste of what a fucking moron you are. Maybe you can take the fast ferry over some time and buy me a coffee.
Oh wait. It's a terrible idea and doesn't exist.