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Most people are here for the purpose of  changing society’s point of view, but I don’t see how writing five sentence reports in the largest newspaper company in the world is a purpose. On July 23,1972 I turned 18 and made the biggest decision ever. To stay home and end up marrying John Freyr or hop on a train and go to The Big Apple. I chose the second option.  I moved to The Big Apple to pursue my dream of being a journalist. I packed up all of my things from our large Alabama townhouse and went to collage unlike most of my co workers, who have larger jobs than me. At one point about two months ago, I was sitting on my balcony smoking a cigarette with my old pal Jimmy. Then it hit me. I jumped up and blurted, “You know what Jimmy- I’m sick and tired of all these unqualified hooligans having bigger, better paying jobs than me. Ya know what Jimmy- I’m gonna go in there on Monday morning and I’m gonna tell Mr. -”
          “June Bug, please don’t do what I think you’re gonna do.”
“I’m gonna go and tell Ederman about a story,” I said with a greedy grin. And that’s how this sham of a job came to be.

 I walked up to the 21st floor and told my boss about a story idea I wanna write, and he says just stick to the ads Winchester. Then someone else from another company wrote about my idea and it makes a lot of money, so Ederman yells at me. I can’t win.
       “Winchester why didn’t you write that story!”
      “In my defense Mr. Ederman, you told me stick to the ads Winc-”    
   He screamed those words so loudly that I was wondern’ when New Jersey will call to complain. Every Monday since, I decided to pitch a new idea to Mr. Ederman and the same thing happens about every single time. I tell him about it, he says stick to the ads June, then another company gets the idea and I get yelled at.  It’s Friday night, so as usual I was on my balcony with Jimmy a bottle of red wine and a pack of smokes. We sit here and talk about life’s simple pleasures and life’s smallest tragedies. Sometimes the tragedies drown the pleasures you know. Jimmy and I are open about everything- we hide nothin’ from each other. So that’s why I feel comfortable saying,“ You know what Jimmy- I’m tired of getting my ideas turned down by Mr. Ederman, so on Monday I will make sure that he can’t say no. I’ll start a story tonight and work all weekend to imp-”
       “June I know how you really want that story... but you don’t know Enderman like I do. He will steal your story June Bug. I’ve seen it happen before, and I don’t know what you will do when he does.” 
      “But Jimmy he won’t copy me. Why would anyone copy me? He doesn’t even think I have potential. Jimmy you’re just jealous that I’m gonna accomplish what you’ve been trying at for years!” I whine. “Just go home I have to write.” Then Jimmy sighed,
        “Pick your poison June, pick your poison.”
      So all weekend I worked my hardest drafting and redrafting all day and all night. I had to find the hottest topic that there isn’t much information about, so I asked around town. On Sunday morning I woke up to my apartment filled with empty coffee cups. No wonder I feel sick. I sit back down to my typewriter and Mr. Ederman, I have a great idea for a story to pitch, it’s about the Michaelson robbery. I have an entire article about it I worked on it all weekend editing and writing.” I said handing him my paper. Mr. Ederman looked at me with a look of disbelief as he stared blankly at my paper. Than he didn’t even look up and said 
    “You finally did… a story well I guess I will go over it and get back to you in a week.” He said with a sheepish grin. I walked out of the office feeling relieved. On the way home I thought in my head “My goodness! He actually liked my story What if my story hits the-” Then my most wonderful thought was interrupted when I saw Mr. Ederman walking down broadway with Jack Neilson laughing their chests off. I heard them say my name in a conversation and ran up behind them making sure that they couldn’t see me. I finally got close enough to hear their conversation. 
     “Oh my how nieve that girl is actually thinking that I was gonna publish that story in her name. Did you see her face light up she looked so stupid. That Jack is why women shouldn’t be in an office they should be at home making the men a sandwich.” 
      “Right Ederman you are so correct just like a man is.” 
   I listened to their conversation tears in my eyes. I knew I couldn’t go home I had to go to Jimmy's house he would comfort me I get to his door seeing a fresh newspaper at his door. It was a New York Times story and on the cover “Hot News On The Michaelson Robbery, by Jack Neilson.” 
   I sat there on Jimmy’s doorstep staring blankly at the paper until I had enough courage to stand up wipe off my tears and knock on the door. In less than a second he opened the door. 
  “June Bug come inside.”
  I reluctantly walked inside, we plopped down onto the sofa with Jimmy. I started to bawl. I cried and cried afraid that one more tear could drown us. When I settled down he pulled the moist newsprint out of my shuddering arms. He looked at it dumbfounded and he gave me a bear hug. I  squeezed him back praying this to never end. He let go of me and asked me what happened I wiped away my tears and said, “It was my dream to be a journalist for The New York Times. But apparently since I am a woman I am not qualified to write an entire story, and not have it stolen.I worked my everything to move here for this interview and get the job but I put my hard work. How is that fair Jimmy!”
         “I know it’s not fair, but that’s just life June Bug. Now get some sleep.” With those words he kissed my forehead and walked to his bedroom. I fell asleep on his couch that night. 

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