Work experience? What's the point? I mean, we don't get paid, we don't really learn anything, what you're allowed to do is limited, and the hours are longer. But, we are still made to do it.
It was scheduled for me to be raised at about quarter to 7. But, the useless mother refused to properley wake me. (*whisper* "Emily... wake up... Oh, never mind.") So I got up at 7 instead. And I had to leave at 7:15. Stupid mother. But, but, it was a good thing that I wasn't taking public transport, and that my Dad was shipping me off.
Honestly, in times like these, I'd get deathly nervous, almost to the point of projectiling vomit out of every orifice. Hmm, I use that phrase too much... But, in this case... I wasn't. It was like, I didn't care enough to be nervous. A pointless excercise doesn't deserve my nervousness.
So, I gotted there. I'm not allowed to say some things about the place I went - Blandford Camp - because my Dad believes there are Neo-Nazis reading this and terrorists with a spare bomb at hand, and that they'll blow up the camp if I give away these 'secrets'. So, some things I cannot say. Shame, really, because they were quite funny. I was lead to a small free-standing office, even though I did not know what was going on and why I was being lead there. I soon found out that it was the place where I was to get one of those clip-on badges for visitors. It was instructed of me to stand on a marked T on the floor, and in front of me was a small webcam-like camera. (Hey, isn't that what a webcam is anyway? Oh well.) I learned it was to take my photo. But it was too hard not to laugh; the camera moved about in such a comical way, it screwed up my photo. So I look such a prat on my badge - even more than I am.
Next, heh, I was an hour early. Not my fault, or anyone's, it's because my Dad had to be there, and what's the point of coming back for me? So, for this time, I went on the internet and did various things. I would've gone on Johnny RocketFingers 2, but I was being watched all the time. Instead I went on
my website, and somehow managed to accidentally get a picture of Vince sitting on a toilet as the computer's background. Oops. (I later changed this to a picture of GIR.) Then, time went on, and I was expected to be told how to be safe.
Hardly safe. I'm always paranoid about slipping or tripping over and falling flat on my face. It made this worse when I was made to walk across a freshly-polished marble stone floor. But, I got to the room. The room of doom. The room with a moose. Some guy, claiming to be the one in charge, ushered me into this....room. In there were two other WE peoplesses - A girl called Annabell who goes to my skool, and a boy named Carl... Karl... I think? Something like that. They were both in the PE department, being fitness instructors or something. I learned they had to have a test before they do anything there... What happens if they were to fail? But, I was stuck in the graphics department this week, then in the museum next week. Anyway, Mr Fish, our guy in charge, vaguely said about... anything. He gave us a couple of phone numbers, then 'used' us. He made us transfer some cups of coffee to the other end of the building, the cheapskate. Thankfully I was lead to the graphics depo soon.
Thankfully?
When I arrived, a man who was formally known as Dominic came to meeeee. He showed me everyone there, making me shake hands with them all. As soon as I shook hands with half the population of Blandford camp, I was given a safety check. This was... I forget. He said there were knives or something nearby, but I wasn't really listening. I only listened up when he said something along the lines of, "Now, then..." or, "Over here..." He lead me to a computer (with two screens!!), sat me down, and made me watch a flash file he made on safety. I was more interested in the graphics tablet and the stylus-pen. All I know is "2222" is the emergency number there.
As soon as I was done listening about how fires were hot and knives are sharp and screaming "FIRE!!!" repeatedly gives you strange attention, Dominic came over, and showed me... Adobe Illustrator. It's much better than crappy MS Pain-t!! He talked me through all the tools... "Paintbrush makes a mark. Try it. Try it NOW." Which took about an hour. Then, I was made to do whatever I wanted. Know what I drew? Have a guess... yep, you probably got it, I can't really hear you since this is only a blogpost you know; the first thing I drew was Jem. And, I was made to print it for some reason. But, I was given my first task soon enough. It was to make a logo for some motorcycle team - The White Helmets. So I was given a bunch of pictures of them, and made to draw a bunch of sh1t which they thought was painful to look at. How do I know they disliked it intensely? "Your drawings are... very cartoony. But, that's good, right? You want to be an animator, you told me..." They weren't meant to be 'cartoony'... And my logo wasn't much better, either. I mean, OK. I say 'logo'. I don't know what comes into your head, but the first thing that comes into mine is some sort of a 'cartoony' drawing. Look it up on google! 'Logo'. You'd most likely come up with a simple drawing. And that's what I did. I spent the whole day drawing a bloody motorbike... I even gave it 3D effects! I was told to print it off and...
"Well, that's a good start."
Oh, that's nice. I just spent the whole bloody motherfudging day drawing a bloody motorbike and you say it's a 'good start'!!!???!
I'm not happy.
I dread tomorrow, now.
# Bobbin slithered back into the shadows at 8:53 PM
