Tuesday 2 December 2008

On best handling interviews

Dear Sister,
Yesterday there was an interview. I have mellowed down considerably due to it. In fact, I am now a completely changed man. You will probably not recognize me the next time we meet – but that we can attribute mostly to the fact that I now sport a pince-nez, a judge’s wig and six-inch heels, not to mention my excellent checked-skirt. I am slowly transforming into the person that in my mind I imagine myself to be. Thus, in effect, soon you will have a brother who is an astute lawyer masquerading around the courtrooms as a bagpiper on elevated skates.
The interview truly, and quite literally, opened my eyes. The most important thing I learned was that it is well bloody hopeless going for an interview when you’re half-asleep and humming to yourself. Next time, I hope to overcome this inadequacy, and more importantly, to promise myself to go to the correct venue for the interview, so as not to end up having to be interviewed for the job of a junior janitor at a private warehouse. Which also explains why the interviewer was a burly ape of a man, and not a boring advocate, and who laughed as he saw me but turned deeply grave, and a brilliant crimson, when I showed him my credentials. It all ended well though, and I wish one day to be like that man, extremely respectful and kind. He assured me I didn’t require to be interviewed, and personally showed me out. All the men in the warehouse were smiling brightly too, looking at me as I walked out. Perhaps working in a weapons warehouse really is a satisfactory experience.
I do realize the implications of what I saw, make no mistake about that. ‘A weapons store in a private warehouse?’ you may pointedly ask. True, I thought of doing something about it long and hard, and found that the best I could do was to offer them a better warehouse (pray tell me what better alternative may have occurred to you, concerned, as I’m sure, you must be with the safety of the men there, as am I ). But that simply would not suffice, especially if there was no air-conditioning. Thus I let it be, and perhaps someday soon, those fine men will get air-conditioning themselves.
Now I must return to my favourite daily pleasure, if I may – I must walk to the newsstand, read the various newspaper titles and laugh uproariously until it gets dark. Then I wait to get back home.
I do hope things are alright with you.
Your brother.

(2006)