flexibility
Maisie Loves You, said a title on a returns sheet I was processing this week. I sighed. How could I possibly work in any other kind of job? Wouldn’t I just pine away without the regular reassurance that Maisie loves me?
The application form that arrived this week asks for flexibility and a receptivity to new ideas. Aren’t there any jobs that ask for intransigence and a resistance to new ideas? Aren’t they really just asking for a willingness to lie?
Maybe I should ask Ross. He works in recruitment - that’s HR, isn’t it? I’ll have to pick the right moment though. Saturday night I got in to find him sprawled on the sofa in front of a large collection of empty beer bottles, watching a DVD. I said: ‘Oh my God’. He agreed. Later, Dave and I heard him, all alone in the room, chortling: 'He’s superglued his penis to his hand!’ We could only hope that he was referring to the plot of American Pie 2, and not to himself, in the third person.
Later, we were in the room with him, watching American Pie 3, followed by Police Academy 4, followed by Pearl Harbour. It was not quite the evening I had envisaged. Yet I only have myself to blame: I did actually choose to watch Pearl Harbour. Now I’d always imagined that Pearl Harbour actually happened, yet as I watched this airbrushed, CGI-slick concoction, I found myself doubting it. Why would the Japanese attack Hawaii? They’d only bring America into World War II and cause them to invent nuclear weapons. Didn’t they know their history? Clearly the whole thing was some kind of conspiracy. And Michael Bay’s unerring ability to shoot everything from exactly the wrong angle did not help to make it any more plausible. It all looks prettified and generic - a witless reconstruction of an old movie, not like something that might have really happened. In fact it looks like an advertisement for something: 9/11, maybe?
We ate from that new noodle place. I managed to order something that wasn’t even on the menu. It wasn’t bad, though Dave pronounced the dumplings ‘rubbery’. I’m afraid I made a racist joke.
The application form that arrived this week asks for flexibility and a receptivity to new ideas. Aren’t there any jobs that ask for intransigence and a resistance to new ideas? Aren’t they really just asking for a willingness to lie?
Maybe I should ask Ross. He works in recruitment - that’s HR, isn’t it? I’ll have to pick the right moment though. Saturday night I got in to find him sprawled on the sofa in front of a large collection of empty beer bottles, watching a DVD. I said: ‘Oh my God’. He agreed. Later, Dave and I heard him, all alone in the room, chortling: 'He’s superglued his penis to his hand!’ We could only hope that he was referring to the plot of American Pie 2, and not to himself, in the third person.
Later, we were in the room with him, watching American Pie 3, followed by Police Academy 4, followed by Pearl Harbour. It was not quite the evening I had envisaged. Yet I only have myself to blame: I did actually choose to watch Pearl Harbour. Now I’d always imagined that Pearl Harbour actually happened, yet as I watched this airbrushed, CGI-slick concoction, I found myself doubting it. Why would the Japanese attack Hawaii? They’d only bring America into World War II and cause them to invent nuclear weapons. Didn’t they know their history? Clearly the whole thing was some kind of conspiracy. And Michael Bay’s unerring ability to shoot everything from exactly the wrong angle did not help to make it any more plausible. It all looks prettified and generic - a witless reconstruction of an old movie, not like something that might have really happened. In fact it looks like an advertisement for something: 9/11, maybe?
We ate from that new noodle place. I managed to order something that wasn’t even on the menu. It wasn’t bad, though Dave pronounced the dumplings ‘rubbery’. I’m afraid I made a racist joke.
posted by martin at 2:09 PM
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