The Naked Truth

I once accidentally worked for a naturist magazine.
It all started when I was in a JobClub – which had similar parties to S Club but with less attractive people.
Every weekday I would send off the obligatory 5 job applications with covering letters, CVs, examples of my columns and I used so much paper, Sting said I was solely responsible for the destruction of the Rain Forest.
One advertisement mysteriously required a writer for an “International Leisure Magazine.”
I sent my application expecting the usual curt rejection but instead received a phone call asking if I had heard of the magazine?
I hadn’t.
We agreed they’d send me some copies of it through the post so I could read through them and decide. Within days, a plain brown envelope arrived containing four eye-popping naturist magazines.
They phoned me again and arranged an interview.
In JobClub, we were taught what to wear for an interview. As this was for a naturist magazine, I wasn’t sure what to wear, if anything?
The interview took place in London and I was asked if I had any problems with writing for a naturist magazine?
I said I hadn’t.
And they said: “Good because we’ve had six writers turn it down saying: ‘it would ruin their credibility as a writer.’”
“Well,” I said. “As a writer with absolutely no credibility, that’s really not a problem for me.”
I did get a little unnerved when they suggested the rest of the interview be conducted in a secluded garden of a nearby pub.
But I soon realised that this was where they’d go most afternoons and, after six lagers, I was offered and accepted the job.
I wrote naturism related columns for them for 18 months before mutually agreeing to part company so they could give the job to a proper naturist who knew what they were talking about.
Ironically, doing that tough, unenviable job, I gained some credibility.


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