Alexandra Jones
(Picture: ES / Natasha Pszenicki)Here’s a story that might get me arrested: when I was an intern at Condé Nast in 2011 — working for minimum wage at society bible Tatler (probably the only person in the entire editorial staff who’d gone to a state school but that’s a story for another day) — I regularly stole toilet paper from the office bathrooms. All in, I was getting paid around £750 a month, which covered the rent on my single room in Holloway (prison cell small, and it didn’t come with a wardrobe), bills, some travel and left me with about £1.65 a day for food.
Mid-recession this all seemed like a very good deal, given that most of my peers interning at other publications were doing so for free. I was grateful but the fact remained that I was often too broke for luxuries like toilet paper. It started with the odd roll here and there, but by the time I left I’d developed a system whereby each Friday I’d bring in an empty weekend bag — pretending that I was going away — and fill it with loo rolls, which I’d stockpile at home. I was never caught, and as far as I’m aware no one suspected — though, admittedly when my contract was up, I was cheerfully let go, despite the fact that an entry-level position had become available by that point.
