Sam Armytage: ‘I was sure I was about to lose my job’
“The other day, a colleague randomly complimented me,” writes Sunrise co-host Samantha Armytage. “And whenever someone inside the industry is nice to me, I’m certain I’m about to be sacked.”
Having worked in television for more than two decades, I’m almost always certain that when someone inside the industry is nice to me, I’m about to be sacked.
But the other day, a colleague randomly complimented me on something, and I still have my job. So there you go.
The “something” was that she found my honesty refreshing and wonderful. It’s one of my most valued principles (for those reading this column who also work in TV, I’ll explain what principles are later) and I do try to live my life in an authentic way.
But we all know by now there are only three things in this world that tell the truth: kids, drunks and leggings.
And, hand on heart... my form of honesty has always secretly been a form of laziness.
Most of the time I just can’t be bothered to make up stuff to flatter people.
I am never brave enough to tell a mate I think her new boyfriend is a wanker. I often tell people their outfit is fab, even when it’s obviously not.
And sometimes I start sentences with, “Look, I cannot tell a lie,” and then proceed to do just that (only little white ones, of course).
In short, I’m no Pinocchio about to persuade you into a Ponzi scheme — but I won’t be getting a job in diplomacy with the United Nations either.
My favourite Winston Churchill moment is when, accused by a woman at a party of being “disgustingly drunk”, he responded with, “My dear, you are ugly, but tomorrow I shall be sober and you will still be disgustingly ugly.” Honesty. I love it.
But for those of us who want to keep some friends, how honest should you be? At what age does the tongue-biting kick in? Is tact something you inherit?
And in this age of perfect Instagram lives, is honesty still as cherished as it was in my childhood?
Please note here: during a lie detector test once, I blurted out that I had stolen a packet of long, red, acrylic fingernails from Grace Bros in Cooma when I was seven... and they hadn’t even turned the machine on yet.
(Mum saw me playing with them in the back seat and turned the car around. I had to take them back in and apologise, and I never stole again. Fear works, kids.)
MORE STELLAR:
Osher Günsberg: ‘I can never pick who’ll win The Bachelor’
World number one Ash Barty’s first in-depth interview
And let’s face it, what hope do we all have when our parents lied to us our entire childhoods? I had left home and started university before I discovered it wasn’t a law that you had to be 18 to sit in the front seat, and it was rubbish that the car wouldn’t start unless everyone had their seatbelt on.
Deep down, I still fear the music blaring from a Mr Whippy van means it has run out of ice-cream. I still won’t eat my crusts in case it makes my hair curly (NB — my hair is naturally curly).
And, as Mum used to tell us, giant round hay bales may well be dinosaur poo. These untruths set us up for a lifetime of lying.
As adults we lie trying to get a job (CVs are mostly lies) or date (telling potential boyfriends you can play golf when the closest you have ever been to a driving range was watching There’s Something About Mary).
The only advice I can give is what my mum told me (post T-Rex turds): try to be truthful, but always remember your lies.
And if a colleague compliments you, tell them you think their outfit looks fab and you love their new boyfriend.
Samantha co-hosts Sunrise, 5.30am weekdays, on the Seven Network.
Seven star fires back at critics
Mark Humphries – the host of Seven’s controversial satirical news bulletin – has shared a blunt message for his haters, branding the reaction to his segment as ‘bizarre’.
MAFS star: ‘I’d probably just have gone on Tinder’
Former Married At First Sight star Lucinda Light takes aim at dating apps and explains why going on the reality series ‘felt like a giant slap’ – as she opens up about her relationship status.