The Trials of a Newbie Staffer

Panelist: P.W. Marlfox, newbie staffer

I would like to begin by saying that The Redwall Comedian is one of the greatest Redwall-based e-zines I have ever read. That said, let's get back to reality. TRC is the only Redwall e-zine I've ever read, so it doesn't say much. And I cancelled my subscription after the first issue. But that was only because, cheap as I am, I just decided for what it's worth I could go to the dentist's office and take their copy. This practice I quickly broke after the dentist mistook me for a paying customer and started drilling on my teeth for three and a half hours.

Now I have not excuse but to being reading this junk once more, as all staff members are sent free copies (big step for Temm) of TRC for writing for it (forget salaries, I had to pay to get in). Besides that, all staff members are required to at least pretend to like it-- strict orders from the Editor, you know.

The first thing I learned-- the longer you sleep in, the better. I found this out the hard way. Wanting to impress the other staff members on my first day at the office, I was awake and ready for action at 6:30 in the morning. Even the sun had the sense I lacked not to show his yellow face at this unearthly hour. But this was not the foremost of my errors, as I was informed by my co-workers (who finally showed up five hours later) that they had a nice little rule concerning the first one there: he gets to climb up the weathervane and get the key to the office. This, they claim, is supposed to be a reenactment of when Jess Squirrel climbed up the weathervane of Redwall Abbey during the time of Abbot Mortimer-- and this was for a sword, not some lousy key. Personally, I think it's just that they can't afford a rug to hide it under like everybeast else. If they wanted the key to be safe, why don't they just put it in the office itself? The door's locked, so nobeast would get to it during the night.

But I don't think you quite understand my problem. I'll explain it to you- and don't expect me to say it again. I'm afraid of heights. There. Imagine, me, a foxwarrior from the forest, bearing a great battleaxe, the terror of vermin everywhere, afraid of heights! But I am. But I surprised even myself-- I made it about halfway up the weathervane. However, I don't remember much else of what happened that morning, for some strange reason.

About two hours later when we got into the office, I was notified of yet another duty I was to perform as the newbie: clean up the mess they had made the day before-- this seemed a common thing for them. Before I was finished I was convinced they had been celebrating the last day they would have to do anything for themselves. Ol' P.W. Wotsit'll do it, don't worry your lazy little heads over it. But this mood soon passed.

Next came the arrival of the Editor-in-chief of The Redwall Comedian, the honorable Bobbelo Temmlock Trapella, Jr., esquire. His commanding prescence was one which demanded immediate action: he promptly called a coffee break and fell asleep on the couch. I was beginning to see why TRC only puts out monthly issues.

This was similarly the way things went during my first week on the job. During this week I managed to meet approximately one of the other staff members (I hardly had much contact with the other staff members the first week, as I spent most of my time in my cubicle rather than the break room-- naively thinking, of course, that I had come there to do some kind of work), a hare who was named Athalia. I had a hunch she only befriended me so I would help her with her interview column; but the rest of the week she proved to be my unfailing "special friend". One day she warned me that there was cheese whiz in my seat- after I sat in it, of course. The next day she was gracious enough to deal me in on a poker game (although she strangely disappeared when the Editor showed up and caught me on deck).

About five minutes before office closing the Editor makes his rounds to make sure everybeast is working, leaving his office from working laboriously on his editorial (or so he says-- but I did notice his secretary was a very pretty young squirrelmaid). (And I'm surprised I slipped that remark past him.) It is during these five minutes that we get most of our work done. But it adds up, actually-- at five minutes every day except Sundays, that gives us about two hours a month to work on our columns and hand them in. Nice system, so long as Temmlock thinks I'm joking and doesn't bust us*. Otherwise I know of-- well, a staff-full of e-zine writers who would want my head for blabbing-- or maybe want to play "Pin the Cheese-Whiz on the Foxie".

-P.W. the Big-Mouthed Marlfox

* Editor's note: You'd like to think that wouldn't you?