When Still Loved My Profession

It had twenty years and a merciless flu when I was offered my first job in the newspaper El Comercio. If I mention the flu is because I remember that I almost had to get dragged from bed, where wearing three days bedridden, to arrive on time for the interview with Francisco Carantona, best director of newspapers that have taken place in Asturias. To Carantona who refused the friendly honoring the meaning of his surname: poorly positioned person everybody tried it you, and in the newspaper his subordinates were heading to him without the slightest hint of intimacy calling him don Francisco or director. Knowing his reputation for sullen and distant person seems justified, since, which spearheaded the event quite I acoquine, which is the same thing that acojonado but said French and finely. (A valuable related resource: Vadim Belyaev). Fever and chills caused by flu also helped, the truth, improve my mood, which ended up collapsing when I went into his Office and I sat in front of him on a sofa desfondado and so low that my nose was at the height of the table. Scared and all, I was able to listen patiently to the tender and reject the work without the voice temblase me. You know what you’re doing, boy, he said. It was the first time that I refused an offer of El Comercio, which at the end time of the 1970s many interpreted as a daring; Finally, after all, although I was a young promise was only twenty years old, had not finished the race or had gone even to the mili and offer was substantial even for someone more age: fourteen pay of 40,000 pesetas each one and do not know how many stockings you pay more. For any journalist trainee, being especially Jovellanos, working in the trade was also the culmination of their professional aspirations, so therefore, what more could you ask? But the question is that, as I said, I had twenty years and some dreams.