Opinion: The start was humble. There were no bright lights, there was no fanfare; there was just a quiet phone call in early March 2001 from my cousin, Nightline producer Angus Gillies.
"Mark Jennings (TV3 news boss) wants you to send him an audition tape. He was talking to (senior reporter) Stephen Parker, who liked your front-page story for the Gisborne Herald the other day. Call (Gisborne cameraman) Mark Chrisp and shoot a story for us."
Holy hell.
"Sure, not a problem," I replied. He hung up.
It was four years since my week of work experience at TV3, four years since Mark Jennings had told me to get journalism experience and work on my young nasal voice. Had I done enough?
I called Mark Chrisp, we arranged for an interview with Chrissy Malone, a top Gisborne surfer I'd grown up with, who had badly injured his back and was making a comeback. His family lived next door to Angus's family.
It was done on a Sunday afternoon and the tape was sent to Auckland, by plane, the next day.
Then... radio silence.
Clearly, I hadn't done enough.
So, my then partner and I applied for jobs in Sydney, and were flying out at the beginning of May 2001, the start of our O.E.
The night before we left, we had a big night in Auckland, celebrating a friend's 25th birthday. The following morning, nursing a nasty hangover, the phone rang. It was Angus.
"Mark liked your audition tape, can you come in today to see him?"
Holy hell.
"Sure, not a problem," I replied, before jumping back in the shower, this time with cold water to wake me up.
I don't remember much of that interview; I was almost too scared to speak or breathe. But somehow Jennings was convinced I would be okay as the new Nightline reporter.
He called three days later while I was in Sydney: "Can you start in three weeks?"
"Sure, no problem," I replied.
Holy hell.
I started at 2pm on Queen's Birthday, Monday June 4th, 2001. I took the lift down to level 2 and stepped into a noisy, bustling, crowded newsroom and nervously made my way to the Nightline hub.
Carolyn Robinson was the presenter - gentle, caring, inviting. Angus, the producer - exuberant, encouraging, brilliant. I was fresh off the boat, in awe but excited.
"Another Gillies in the room, how wonderful", a voice boomed from behind. I turned to see a smiling, welcoming John Campbell, hand outstretched.
I prayed my hand wasn't shaking or sweating as it met his. The butterflies in my stomach were doing an off-the-scale jig.
Behind him, the imposing Mike Brockie and John Hale sat in the centre of the room, the 6pm producers, in control, bantering, barking orders, improving scripts, shaping the news agenda for the day. I was too scared to say hello.
I focused on a small bucket a metre away from them, catching the drips from a roof leak.
"This is an old cheese factory", a reporter said on her way past. "It can really stink on a rainy day".
There was no glamour. But my goodness, there was ample spunk and spark. I felt I had arrived home.
I had planned to stay for three years but TV3 held my heart for 23, each year a wonderful and unforgettable adventure.
After Nightline, I moved to the Christchurch bureau in Sir William Pickering Drive (near the airport for ease of putting tapes on planes). Phil Corkery was the boss. He was tough but brilliant. "We tell the facts; the talent can give you the flavour - don't mix the two up", he would stress.
Next it was Wellington, under the guidance of Gordon 'Flash' McBride, who after I quit one day in a huff, rang me and convinced me to come back and pick up some sandwiches for him on the way. I complied. He was both loveable and formidable.
Then it was back to Auckland with John Campbell and Campbell Live. "Amanda, make sure you know your talent, research them, make them feel valued and understood," JC told me. Advice I carry to this day.
Then Sydney called, in 2008, to be the Australia correspondent, a career highlight. It began with the Black Saturday fires, ended with the deadly Queensland flooding, with Prime Minister coups, hung parliaments, and NRL scandals in between. I loved every minute.
I returned home in 2011 and immersed myself in news and current affairs, wearing out my passport, travelling to Europe, the States, Asia, the Pacific Islands, even Palau (I had to google this one).
In Fiji, I had my microphone punched out of my hand by the Prime Minister before being trapped by a killer cyclone; I flew over an exploding volcano in Tonga, shared a laugh with A-List celebrities in Australia and America, and chased rogue rugby players around tropical islands after coming face to face with a murderer. My TV3 life was humming.
But at 40, I was asked to switch "out in the field" reporting for the studio to co-host The AM Show with Duncan and Mark.
Holy hell.
"Sure, no problem," I replied.
This was foreign ground. I had barely read an autocue, never presented a news bulletin before. Now it was five times a week with a 3am alarm.
There were tough moments, glorious moments, heart ache and tears and aching cheeks from uncontrollable laughter. I never regretted a moment.
Now I am preparing to say goodbye to the company I grew up in. I have loved every moment, every bureau, every story and, most importantly, every workmate. It's been the most incredible adventure.
The end will be humble. No bright lights or fanfare. TV3 style.
"Sure, not a problem."
Holy hell.
Amanda Gillies is Newshub's national correspondent.
