Working for the local paper
As a (younger) teenager, I was told I had to do my work experience. So, since I was interested in writing I worked at the local newspaper (me mum knew the editor).

First day, I was told to turn up at the local bus depot to help someone interview the people there about a new scheme. So, I turned up 5 minutes early and waited. And waited. And then waited some more. Luckily the people at the depot noticed I was hanging around and struck up a conversation & were very nice to me. Eventually the reporter turns up (about half an hour late) and we do the interview with the nice bus people, though I remain silent as I have no clue what to do - I wasn't even told beforehand what it was about! When we go to the office, however, it turns out that they think the scheme is a waste of money and so basically slag off the nice bus people. Suddenly I get my first taste of the real world: speaking to these lovely guys then proclaiming that what they say is rubbish.

Anyway, after that I was basically stuck doing photocopying and proof-reading, though I did get to write odd tidbits about news no-one else wanted to do; "Mrs Jones' parrot said a bad word last night, police are investigating" and the like. Most of these, I noticed, never got printed (teh bastardness!). Luckily the reporters were reasonably friendly, though they obviously regarded me as a burden, giving me 2 hour lunch breaks where I'd roam around alone (it was in Hertfordshire, whereas I live in London so didn't know anywhere/anyone).

But one day, I was taken by this quite friendly chap to the police station to talk to their PR guy about what'd been going down with the perps lately and all that, and was told to take notes so I could write their usual crime report (Got my name printed - woo yay!). During the talk, a screen on the wall suddenly broke off it's fastenings and fell down to the floor with a mighty *CRASH!!!*, so we all turned our heads as the PR guy looked on in total horror.
Behind there, there were classified diagrams and mission plans for a new type of technology for identifying criminals using footprints and gaits in a new way, which was being pioneered in our borough as well as a few others! So, we were made to swear to secrecy and not tell a soul, and I was well chuffed when I saw the technique appear in the papers half a year later as a success!

After that, it was all very dull and I was back to menial tasks and tidbits of boring news, with my lunch breaks getting ever longer. I struck up quite a rapport with the canteen people over the time and passed my time eating there slowly and reading, and when back from my lunch breaks I pretended to work (i.e. sat looking bored - I didn't dare use the interweb much cos it was an open plan office and so everyone could see what I was doing!)

On my last day, after print day when activity was especially low, I was approached by a young lass in the canteen who had also been doing work experience that week at a paper that we shared the building with and had apparently noticed me around. Unfortunately, she was not exactly the most beautiful belle of the ball, but I was never one to snub conversation with a like-minded person (especially when bored).
She mentioned her school during converse, so I just said "Oh right yeah, I know quite a few people there". She then made me name every single person I knew from that school, and proceeded to slag off each one of them: "He's so lanky!", "She thinks she's soooo funny", "Oh that geekazoid" and so on, to the point where I really considered chucking this plain-looking, spoilt brat out the window.
So I made my excuses and got up to leave the canteen. She grabbed my hand and asked where I was going so quickly. Here I faced a choice: suffer the abject boredom of post print-day shite, or significantly lower my standards for this girl.

We ended up tongue-wrestling in a store cupboard for a good twenty minutes.

Result.

Apologise for length? I felt obliged to, it was pretty cramped in there.
(Adamish Time of death, Sat 12 May 2007, 23:59, Reply)