Devil wears Prada...with a black girl as the lead

A couple years ago I was fortunate to get the chance to work for a giant advertising company (I wont say the name because i don't want to get sued- Actually, what can they take from me ? My student loan...all £5.81 that's left!)

But yes, I wrote an account about my time there, i'll leave it upto you to decide whether or not I 'enjoyed' myself. I will say this, my time there was...memorable.

Day one
8.30 am
I’m lost in my own city; the land of city folk. The land where people take taxis only wait in traffic, and then willingly pay an extortionate price for a journey that could have been completed within two minutes of walking. City workers: they’re supposed to be smart.
8.50 am
I’m still lost and my hair has become defiantly untameable. Earlier I attempted to slick it back, but then I looked a boy and I didn’t want any confusion. This is the media world; I know they won’t remember my name, but not to remember my gender would be the ultimate shame.
9.45 am
As I finally approach the glossy tower of the company, I see the reflection of the receptionist through my own reflection. And despite her obvious expressed belief that I must be lost, I enter with poise; in full knowledge that her hair clip almost certainly costs more than my whole outfit.
Day three
2.30 pm
Three days in and I hate it. I hate that the stereotypes are true. The wealthy women that stroll around the office and occasionally sit at their desks, only to throw their nonsense babble across the room. And the gaunt looking women that opt to spend their lunch break jogging around central London. It’s central London, where’s the space?
Day four
12.25 pm
This experience has made me realise that we do weird and not so wonderful things for our passions. I dream of this world. Creating something from nothing and having it projected to the world, but here I am, in a lift, holding a box of photographers’ photos...of themselves!
A woman enters the lift and startles as she sees me. Never the less, she says thank you for pressing the button. She’s wearing a purposely ruffed ACDC t-shirt with jeans that look like ones that I own; only £200 more. She unexpectedly asks me where I live, and I reply. She makes a sound with her mouth whilst brushing the top of her lip with her tongue. She then replies with “I went to school with Sienna Miller!”
3.40 pm
Three hours after our encounter, she walks into the office with cupcakes from her local bakery in Knightsbridge, and proclaims “Enjoy!” But in the media world, that means “Go ahead-if you want to become exceedingly fat and lose your status in the West London world!” I decide not to take one because I feel that I’m not fully immersed into the team. So I remain at my desk and contemplate whether that’s a good thing.
Day five
5.30 pm
So on an uncelebrated Friday evening in June, I leave their city life, and returned to my own city life.