Weekend Sunrise's Sally Bowrey was so awful to me, I left the studio in tears. This is the column I waited a decade to write: AMANDA GOFF

They say living well is the best revenge.

Do you know what I think comes a close second? Having a column and a score to settle. Especially when it involves a well-known TV personality who, to put it bluntly, was absolutely awful to me and continues to enjoy an unblemished reputation.

I know what you're thinking: 'Here's Amanda with another carve-up of a celeb. How can she, of all people, point the finger and accuse someone else of being mean?'

Yes, I write my opinions of people, and they're not always flattering. I know for a fact that I've upset a few people along the way, and I dare say I'll upset a few more. That's an occupational hazard of being paid to have opinions.

But strong opinions are not a licence to twist the knife, and there's a vast difference between skewering the tomfoolery of elites and making another person feel small.

Which brings me to my experience with Sally Bowrey, the squeaky clean Weekend Sunrise news anchor whose treatment of me I haven't forgotten all these years later.

You're maybe wondering why I've decided to bring it up.

Well, as I write this, The Australian's Steve Jackson reports that axed Today show presenter Sarah Abo - who has a reputation for being genuinely lovely - is being wooed by Seven's Melbourne news bulletin. Reading it, I felt compelled to put pen to paper before she joins a network where my own experience was far less pleasant than the public image suggests.

Honestly, it has taken me almost a decade to write this. I've settled scores before, including with Abbie Chatfield, and there are others whose turn may yet come. (Sam Armytage is among them. Unfortunately, my editors and the Mail's lawyers would have collective heart failure if I put those thoughts in print.)

But back to Bowrey. Before my run-in with her, I encountered another Sally - Sally Obermeder - who you might remember as one of the hosts of The Daily Edition. Bowrey occasionally filled in for her.

Before I became Samantha X, I occasionally worked as a freelance producer on Seven's flagship current affairs program, Today Tonight. Obermeder was due to go on maternity leave and I was brought in as a possible replacement. It was a huge job, completely new to me, and I was beyond excited. A dream come true.

But soon after arriving, I got the distinct impression Obermeder didn't like me. That impression resurfaced while writing this column when I discovered she had blocked me on Instagram, possibly years ago. Bowrey has done the same.

During my brief time at Today Tonight, I felt increasingly unwelcome and my confidence gradually evaporated. I ended up in tears speaking to a female boss about how I felt. Eventually, the job I'd been so excited about came to nothing. No one likes a squeaky wheel.

Don't get me wrong. There were some lovely women at Seven: Chris Bath, Nat Barr, the chief of staff, and a handful of other producers who were always real, authentic and refreshing.

And I'm no snowflake. I've worked in some of the toughest newsrooms in London, dealt with screaming editors, ruthless journalists and more than my fair share of difficult personalities. Piers Morgan was one of my first bosses.

But at Seven, for the first time in my professional life, I found myself second-guessing my own worth. To this day, I've wondered what I might have said or done wrong.

Perhaps Obermeder and others remember things differently. I'm sure she has her own reasons for blocking me. I can only tell you how I felt at the time.

Fast forward a year or so and a lot had changed. I farewelled 9-to-5 journalism and became Samantha X. Around the same time, Seven launched a new daytime show, The Daily Edition, with Obermeder as one of its presenters.

And boy, did I have a great story: glossy magazine writer becomes high-class escort. Instead of putting the news together, I became a walking headline.

Seven's Sunday Night ran the exclusive on me and promoted my memoir, Hooked.

I became media fodder. For months, producers from The Daily Edition emailed asking me to come on as a guest. My answer was always the same: no.

And I was honest about why. After my tough time at Today Tonight, I didn't want to be face to face with Obermeder on live television.

Until one day another invitation landed in my inbox. Obermeder was going on holiday. Would I reconsider if someone else interviewed me?

That someone was Sally Bowrey.

I'd never heard of her. I agreed. I had an escort agency and another book to promote, and it seemed a safe bet.

How wrong I was.

I'd agreed to an interview with one Sally to avoid the potential awkwardness of being interviewed by the other - but what I hadn't anticipated was walking straight into what felt, to me, like an ambush.

Years later, I don't remember much about those five or so minutes on live television with Bowrey, but I do remember how they made me feel: humiliated, embarrassed, upset, tearful and angry at myself for agreeing to it.

I'd done plenty of live interviews, both as Samantha and Amanda. During my time at Seven, I was a beauty expert on The Morning Show, sharing the studio with the lovely Larry Emdur and Kylie Gillies many times. They were, and still are, consummate professionals.

But with Bowrey, it felt like a completely different story. I'd quit my desk job to become an escort. I accepted that not everyone would approve of my life choices. But it felt as though I was being questioned by police on suspicion of murder.

I remember the hot studio lights, stumbling over my words as I tried to answer what felt like sneering, aggressive questions that came at me faster than I could gather my thoughts.

'Couldn't you just ask for flexi hours?' Bowrey said after I explained that one of the reasons I became Samantha was to achieve a better work-life balance. The question seemed to assume that every workplace simply grants such requests on demand.

Before I could recover, the interview was over and I was left untangling my microphone, fighting back tears before fleeing the studio.

Friends who watched called to see if I was OK. 'That was pretty brutal,' one said.

I wasn't expecting a fireside chat. I was a journalist and knew how it worked. Bowrey wasn't there to stroke my ego. But this was daytime TV, not 60 Minutes. I was an author and escort, not El Chapo.

There is a difference between asking tough questions and leaving someone feeling the way I did that day.

While the past is the past, I've never forgotten how I felt being interviewed by Bowrey and my ill-fated stint at Today Tonight.

Since then, Obermeder has traded television for lifestyle influencing. I noted with interest two recent, unflattering stories about her appeared in the Telegraph - a paper that once breathlessly reported her attending the opening of an envelope.

Bowrey is still at Seven. Woman's Day referred to her this week as 'the beloved Weekend Sunrise star'.

I don't know whether Sarah Abo is bound for Seven or weighing up other career paths after being axed from Today while on maternity leave. But my gut tells me she's far too nice for that place.

In the world of daytime television, it's not always the ratings or the bosses you need to watch. Sometimes it's the hosts sitting right beside you.

Channel Seven was contacted for comment.