The friend of a friend is a poet. She's had some modest success - something that's pretty much par for the course with poets, I guess - and is currently studying for an MPhil. She enjoys her life. You'd describe her as cheerful. Her poetry, though beautifully evoked and thought-provoking, reveals a rather darker side of her personality.
Her proud mother, thrilled when the first slim volume is published, gives a copy to a colleague. A few days later, she takes the mother aside. "I'm so sorry," she says, in a low voice, laying a sympathetic hand on her arm. "Your daughter must be terribly unhappy."
Today, Francis shows me the job spec he's received. He doesn't understand a single word. "Stand back - I'm an intellectual," I say, assuming that one of his more irritating passive-aggressive moments is coming on, and taking the letter from him with the leave-it-to-me body language he's come to know so well during our years together.
And blow me down. I don't understand a single word either.
The company is 'a commercial vehicle' (I thought that meant a lorry) 'which operates a number of product licences' which are 'either generic or niche branded products obtained from big pharma at the end of there (sic) product life cycle.'
But wait. There's good news. Because, 'after further significant investment in product licences, the board believe they now have obtained the critical mass necessary to move direct to consumer.'
Well, thank goodness for the happy ending after that humdinger of a cliffhanger.
And that leads to Francis' role which will be 'establishing a critical mass upon which new product development and licence acquisition can be sustained'. Well, of course. As if it needed explanation.
As quite an experienced critical mass myself - and getting massier by the minute - my own suggestion - that we track down the letter writer's mum, put a consoling hand on her arm and say "I'm so sorry. Your son must be terribly unhappy," - is rejected by Francis as unworkable.
"So what are you going to do?" I ask.
"Phone a friend," says Francis. "He's established a critical mass before. I'll get him to tell me what to say at the interview."
"What if you get the job?"
He smiles. "Like you said yesterday, why don't we worry about that when it happens?"
Touche.
Damn.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
11 comments:
Where were we when an edict was declared that everything should be packaged in obscure language and launched, like projectile vomit, on the unsuspecting reader?
I have just finished reading a Ron Dennis interview - yes, Formula 1 guru, I'm that sad - and his method of delivery 'Ronspeak' has a dedicated website.
My husband says that I don't need to visit this as my comments are incomprehensible already....
p.s. put a link to you on my site - hope you don't mind.
Debio - Of course - it must be chemical version of 'Ronspeak' - will check site. Francis will be so relieved to know it's an official language.
Sounds like he needs to learn a new language before the interview. It's all Japanese, isn't it?
Hope it goes well and something works out soon. I know it's tough, the waiting and the uncertainty. Someone else who went through this for a year said that if they had only known it would all come right, they could have just enjoyed the experience. But I guess that's life. The not knowing.
Hindsight, as they say, is a wonderful thing, Marianne. But would we want it if we had the option? I'm not sure.
In relation to your recent comment on my own blog....you make a good point Omega Mum, and there was a summary of sorts once, but it appeared on my non-fiction page as well - where it looked distinctly odd!
I joined some sort of Blogger Help Group in order to try to discover how to separate the two profile views - but though I'm inundated almost daily with hundreds of helpful hints, there has so far not been even one, which sheds light on my own problem.
I take your plight on board however, and will try to construct a 'story so far' piece (keeping it within your stipulated 5 pages if poss!), so as to spare you and others like you a trundle through all the many instalments so far posted. I'm not promising anything, mind - I have enough to do just keeping it all intact
inside my head!
Lovely to have you visit though! I had begun to think it was just me, and my characters, and the ever-faithful Lady Macleod (for whose presence I utter daily a prayer of thanks to Blog Heaven!), who were hanging-on-in here.......
(I'm not altogether sure a summary will help you very much,in fact. There's no build-up to speak of - it's more the sort of thing that just creeps up on you {or not, as the case may be!} Still, I'll do what I can...)
Have left another comment for you on your previous blog by the way.
I was once a PA to a boss who would say things like "come into my office to partake in a face to face, one to one conversation about work related and/or non work related issues and a particularly well brewed beverage and sundry other refreshments"
He meant "pop in for a chat and coffee and biscuit" but felt it would de-power him in front of the rest of the work force.
It wouldn't have done, of course. His original way of talking made him out to be a bit of a pillock.
Hi Om Mu,
Ta for the advice re:mice.
Yours hubby's prospective employers sound like wholesalers of soon to be out of date medicines. I recall there was a furore about drug companies selling 'past sell by date' products to developing countries, praps this company is trying to be a little more proactive in this regard by getting the short shelf life pharmaceuticals to those in immediate need, no matter where in the world and for a modest fee compared to the full price originally charged. Some home based work could even be on the cards.
Kind regards
Ad
Thanks, Nunhead m o'1 and Ad. How do these nutters survive? Do they all get fired/go bust or, even worse, do very well and end up running/owning huge corporations?
I think they go into politics!
I suppose they do less damage there - but it's a scary thought.
Post a Comment