Found this on Paste Bin (www.pastebin.com) and it was too funny to not upload. Actually most of it is partly true...especially 6 (b) and 6 (l and m). I go bonkers explaining why they don't see me on television or why my byline is not visible in Times of India. It is a futile exercise, so now I just accept the sad looks I get I have to mention what I do for a living. But sometimes when I am in a bitchy mood, I would start dropping names of the countries I have visited as part of my job.
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Here is a post from pastebin.com:
Rules:
1. Candidates must bring their own pen, paper and camera.
2. They will be asked to do an 8 on their motorcycles while reading the day's news.
3. They should submit 4 passport size photographs. The one that makes them look anaemic, retarded and underdeveloped will be used. It is probable that all the photos will qualify.
4. Licence tests will be administered every weekday on Azad Maidan corner. It is strictly a No Stealing area. Candidates caught stealing other people's properties will be evicted.
5. The examination will include a breathalyzer test. Alcohol content in the blood of BELOW three times the normal level will be grounds for DISQUALIFICATION.
6. The candidates will be tested for qualifications in the following
a) survival strategies on below-minimum wages
b) ability to beg for exclusives
c) gift-taking techniques including shamelessly barging into meetings uninvited
d) sudden surge in rage and patriotism at 9 p.m. every day
e) ability to confuse oneself and others
f) licking of toes, especially those attached to the feet of media bosses
g) late-sleeping and late-rising
i) the inability to distinguish between sarcasm and a pointless joke.
j) constant boast that one could have made it big in a corporate career and only chose journalism to make love to writing
k) telling other journalists about being addressed by powerful people and celebrities by one's first name.
l) speculating on the future of journalism every day for two hours m) constantly trying to explain to relatives why they are not famous like Barka Dutt.
7. Candidates will also have to submit a thesis on how to kill grammar. This must include an original, peer-reviewed innovative idea on the murder of syntax.
P.S: The local cheap-alcohol and hook-up association, also known as the Press Club, can arrange the licence without any formalities for a payment of a small bribe. Please contact the office of the Chief Protector of the Moral Fibre and Ethical Grandstanding in Media.
P.P.S Though much of these rules bear a strong resemblance to reality, they are still satirical.
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I recall an incident which happened about three-four months back. It effectively shows how rare it is to come across a well paid journalist.
I was using the husband's driver on that day and post a meeting was accompanied by two young journalists who wanted to be dropped on the way to office. Very few journalists have chauffeur-driven vehicles so after the look of surprise, one of the perky journos started questioning me about the driver. She smiled and wondered if I the company which had organised the meeting had sent a cab for me. I declined. She persisted and then asked me if I am entitled to a driver from my office. I again smiled and told her that no that was not the case. The uncomfortable silence continued for two minutes when I just wanted to burst out laughing. Finally I said, "Is it just too much to accept that a journalist can hire a driver in her salary?"
"No, no I was just wondering because nobody does it," she was clearly ill at ease now.
I was doubling up with laughter by now and told her it was my husband's driver and I was just using him for a day since he was out of town. "Oh tabhi..."
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