Into the Erotic Fold
by Sophie Monks KaufmanI have a phobia of the ordinary. The idea of being ground into a wage slave is scarier then death, taxes and David Cameron put together. Like The Undertones ‘I need excitement man I need it bad’ yet everyone has to work. From Bill Gates to doormat weavers in Kerala, everyone is putting in the hours. Only an exceptional few are able to make thrill-seeking their top priority. Yet I have a dream that work can be exciting. Such idealism may cause data entrants throughout the land to laugh bitterly but to paraphrase Thoreau:
‘Only she who risks pushing luck too far, finds out how far luck goes.’
My presence in the Erotic Review fold would suggest a certain elasticity of luck. From the moment I saw its name glowing suggestively on a jobs board, amidst run-of-the-mill roles, my heart began to quicken. A visit to the website proved a hunch: the writing was hilarious and unapologetic. I bashed out an application, injecting more personality than is usually welcome in the pared down world of journalism. Blow me down if I didn’t get an interview. And then the internship.
Being ever-cautious, I braced myself for the revelation that my luck had peaked. Sure, I’d be able to act like an erotic guru in front of my friends but beneath the mystique would lurk another office drone. I expected to be ignored by the old guard and given scintillating tasks like photocopying for which I would show gratitude and enthusiasm.
So, imagine my barely contained delight when, not only did no one growl as I entered the premises but three beaming faces instilled the feeling that I was the saviour; come to restore hope and lightness. Within no time, my opinion – me, the new kid! – was solicited on images that had been emailed over by lingerie advertisers. Later in the same day – my first day! – I was set the creative task of pulling quotes.
Oh, that the excitement would last forever but its part of being a young Westerner to constantly cast around for something better. Perhaps in a fortnight I’ll be eyeing the Editor’s chair and going ‘hmmm’. But if I do, someone should give me a slap and a reminder that there’s no need to ascend when you’re onto a good thing. The point at which you become part of a publication that is singular and intelligent and sexy and irreverent is the point at which you thank your extraordinary luck and work as hard as the rest of the world.
