Kicking up a stink as a rookie journo

THE old blokes that had been around a long time would have been chuckling to themselves.

They would have known I was the new kid in town from the minute they saw me.

As a journo straight out of uni, I got a job at a country paper called the Hamilton Spectator.

It is an unbelievable paper with some unbelievably good people. But that’s not the point of this Take Two.

I was so keen to impress that I went out and spent some good money on a few new suits and pants from Peter Jackson.

One of my early assignments was to head down to the cattle sales.

Which leads me back to my opening: How can you spot the new bloke in town?

He’s the one that’s shindeep in cow s--- at the Hamilton cattle sales.

There’s no tougher initiation than a visit to the sales for someone from out of town.

Firstly, no matter which way you turn, you can’t avoid the poo.

My Julius Marlows had gone from black to a stinky brown within seconds. My pants had copped a fresh patty from a cow that had its bum backed right up to the end of the pen. And after all that you have to try and talk to some farmers about the price of their Angus cows and just how the market is looking. They could have answered the questions in Chinese and I would have had the same understanding as I did. After asking a million ‘dumb’ questions to make sure I got all my information right, I slithered back to my car. How on earth was I meant to go back to working, looking and smelling like I did? I ended up stripping down to my jocks in the carpark and throwing my shoes, socks, pants and shirt in a bag and putting it in the boot.

If I had some matches, I would have set fire to it just to save cleaning up.

It wouldn’t have bothered me one bit that there was $500 worth of clothing in that bag.

Almost fully naked, I drove home to sort myself out and find some clean clothes.

Sheepishly, I got back to the office and sat back at my desk.

Luckily, no one had noticed the costume change, although I’m sure the stench was stuck in my pores.

I’ve got so many brilliant memories from my short time working in Hamilton.

But if I never see another cattle sale again, I will be one very, very, VERY happy journo.