Every time I start the letter to the psychologist about Leo I sound either mad or more depressed than he is, so I take a break to check my e-mails.
Today, there's one from Asbestos B. Womb - what can her parents have been thinking of at the christening? She's teamed up with a friend, the lovely Vicky C. Oscilloscope and wants me, together with just a few million other hand picked total strangers, to take advantage of a unique investment opportunity in a totally unregulated fund operated out of a sub post office in the Phillipines. She says it's tipped to 'explode'. It sounds almost too good to be true.
The only other e-mail is from another potentially good chum called Leon. He says men and women used to giggle at him in public toilets - why was he in the Ladies, anyway? - until he took Megadik. Now, he says, he laughs at them. Laughter is, as we all know, a great healer. But someone needs to have a chat with Leon about his technique. Leaping out in a women's toilet and chortling at the customers has never, as far as I know, proved a path to great sex, with or without Megadik, though it would definitely offer a quick route to a place on the Sex Offender's Register.
Meanwhile Francis has been approached by scary headhunter to go for an appropriately scary job. The salary is mega, the offices are mega, and the benefits are - needless to say - mega. In fact, the whole package exudes so much testosterone that the company probably wrings out the job descriptions after it's finished with them, turns the juice into Viagra and does a buy one, get one free deal with Megadik.
But Asbestos and Vicky must have got there first because there's a catch. The board has got together and decided that to keep it in company jets and second mansions, sales have got to double. The successful candidate will be enthusiastic, go-getting and just bubbling over with exciting ideas to add nearly one billion pounds to the bottom line.
Francis looks so deflated by the whole thing that you could probably count his testosterone levels on the fingers of one hand. He's had three days to think up exciting ideas, and all he's come up so far is either employing Bad Lindy to trap customers in a corner with her shopping trolley until they buy more, or giving away a gold bar with every purchase. "It would definitely increase sales volume," he says. "Now I've just got to work on stopping them going bankrupt in the process."
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14 comments:
Sorry to read you're having such a tough time and very impressed you can keep laughing! I'll be back.
Today it is the World-wide day of the child
Cor. If I was dealing with such a Megadik scary job description I'd be depressed too.
But why couldn't Francis do what Leon and the others have done: bombard innocent people with emails about wonderful opportunities? Or he could guarantee that these emails would stop. You have to be very careful about these carrots on sticks (the potential jobs, not Leon's Megadik). What can seem like a wonderful opportunity can turn into a nightmare.
I think the job's too scary, too. Maybe there's some sort of Megadik franchise he could apply for, involving portaloos. And I agree with the illusory nature of carrots on sticks.
Has he thought about becoming a world famous movie star? You don't need any education, it is a plus if someone in the family is disfunctional, you can make claims as grandiose as you please, and he'll meet lots of new people. It's true some will be shooting at him, some will be kissing him, and others will be asking for his signature on the bottom line but hey all jobs have some drawbacks.
Blimey, poor Francis, that does sound scary. But long gone are the days when I'd be 'energised' by such a challenge.
What does Francis really want to do?
All this talk of megadik and dangling carrots on sticks at 9 in the morning makes me reach for a stiff drink. I do hope Francis can rise to this challenge. Best wishes x
Megadik and Asbestoshuh? You must really look forward to opening your inbox of a morning.
Hope poor Francis is feeling a little better about things soon and that you actually get that letter written without sounding like you need to be committed.
Lady M: He wants to be the new James Bond in a sizzling re-make of Goldfinger so I think your suggestion may be the answer.
Suffolk Mum: I am most energised by a good book and a glass of wine or not having the children. Jobs just don't do it for me.
M&M. He doesn't know, has never known and I am so sorry for him - wanted him to rethink his career 10 years ago and he resisted all efforts then. Such a shame.
Crystal Jigsaw: Cheers! Me too.
Surviving Mo: It's sad, isn't it?
Bad Lindy would be an asset (heh heh) to any macho, testosterone-laden company! Or would she? She might bring all proceedings to a grinding halt, the way she carries on!
Poor Francis - give him a hug from me and tell him to hang in there. Inspiration will come.
Just a thought, omega mum, what about buying a franchise? Not a new start up type (maybe bit risky)but something established.
Francis is obviously realistic with sales/marketing etc; would be running his own show and in control.
Loads of ideas on web.
Will keep thinking - you can tell me to shut up if you want...!
No, Debio - keep the ideas coming. Everything listened to very carefully. Thanks for franchise idea.
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