The job was for a scheduling assistant who was enthusiastic, motivated and flexible with experience in compiling logs. Here are my emails.
I have yet to hear back...
****
Dear Jenny,
I am an enthusiastic and motivated man (whose name is Anthony) and I have
just seen a tweet on Tweeter about a job as a scheduling assistant. I am
also "flexible" to a certain extent although have a strange foot, so while
normal movement is fine, anything too intricate such as dancing or fencing
may prove too painful. I doubt that these will form, part of the job, but
please see questions below.
I would like to apply for this post.
I am available to start immediately. This afternoon even. Although it will
probably take me an hour or so to get there. (I live quite nearby, but my
foot slows me down, what with it being so big.)
I am an excellent communicator, and although I rarely get to speak to
actual real people in real life, I have imagined many conversations with
them. I once had a brilliant imagined chat with the spaceman Neil Armstrong.
"Hey Neil! What's up?" I said.
He got confused because he was in space and there isn't really such a thing
as up.
We had quite the laugh about that, I can tell you.
My questions are this though.
What is a "scheduling" and what will the assistance incorporate? Will I
have to take it to the toilet? Or maybe feed it? Is it actually an animal
like I have imagined? Or is it something else?
It might not be. I see it involves logs, which suits me fine as I love all
types of wood and often spend afternoons in B&Q shouting at the planks and
bits of MDF.
Please let me know if you want me to start this afternoon (preferably by
about 4 ish as Pointless is on a bit after that and I don't want to miss it
unless I'm in gainful employment)
All of my love.
Anthony.
******
Dearer Jenny,
One thing it is worth bearing in mind when you are going to offer me the job - I have a fear of snowglobes - will that be a problem?
Irrational I know. A psychologist told me once it was because I choked on some fake snow as a child, but then he met my mum.
As well as the huge foot (hereditary), she also has a completely transparent stomach, eats a lot of tissues and looks like a snowman. She left me.
He then put two and two together.
So basically, I await with baited breath to hear about the job.
Big hugs and big footed stamps.
Anthony
******
Dear, dear, dear, dear etc...
I'm starting to wonder...
...if the reason you haven't got back to me to tell me I've got the job yet
is because you are going to do a surprise on me.
I have planned a quiet night in (just me and the fish and the turtle and
some Pringles (turtle-worm flavour - she likes those and it stops her
nibbling on the fish)) and so perhaps you are all going to be hiding in my
house and jump out and surprise me from behind my rubber plant.
Probably should warn you, I don't like surprises though. Once on my
birthday I was bought a jumper by my mum. I was expecting it to be blue but
when I unwrapped it, it was red. Imagine how surprising that would be. I
done a cry for two weeks solid.
So, please do feel free to surprise me, but if I'm crying too hard and
shuddering so much my massive foot is violently beating out a hypnotic
rhythm on the floor - then assume I'm saying yes.
I (and my turtle) look forward to seeing you later.
Anthony...
**********
Yo yo Jenjo!
Well - I have to admit it! You certainly surprised me!
Your double bluff of not turning up at my house on Friday to give me the job really was a masterstroke.
What a weekend and Monday and Tuesday it turned out to be. I too was going to surprise you when you came to surprise me by also hiding behind the rubber plant so when you came to hide behind it, you would find me (that would be the surprise).
As it was Hallowe'en I decided to dress as everybody's favourite horror character "Scary Gerald". I put on the trunks, mittens and put a crab in my hair, like you'd expect and squatted down behind the plant.
Sometimes, my foot goes in to spasm - particularly if I have been crouching behind some shrubs. Normally it takes several hours, so I thought I would be safe - however, perhaps because I was nervous about the upcoming job offer, the spasm was almost instantaneous. The largeness of my foot (about the size of a child's dinghy (uninflated (child from middle to moderate wealth background if that helps you gauge the size of the craft if it were given as a birthday or funeral present))) thrashing around meant I kicked over the rubber plant.
It fell on me. It was like it was trying to hug me with its leafy little hands. But I knew that wasn't the case as Scary Gerald is not a friend of the plants, as we all know.
I was stuck. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I was released from hospital a few hours ago and came straight back after laundering my Scary Gerald costumer (there were some stains in it from my ordeal - mostly urine and crab's blood but also something 'other' which smell alone could not identify (neither my sense of smell - nor that of the shopkeeper who kept vomiting as I pushed it under his nose))
I don't mean to be pushy - but when does the scheduling start? So far I seem to have done little or no scheduling and have been employed since Friday. Also - am I allowed to bring a pet? Or a pest? Or a priest?
Thanking all of your face.
Anthony
****
Dear Jenjenjen,
I’m starting to wonder now if I’ve actually got this job. It saddens me to think that as we had become such close friends, but then maybe that’s why. Perhaps we are so close that you are afraid to tell me that someone with exactly equal skills to mine (Connect 4, hiding and playing the bongo) but with a slightly smaller foot has arrived and that natural selection makes him (or her (or himher)) the most obvious choice.
Yes, my large foot can be awkward. In my previous job, the woman next to me actually had to sit on it because we couldn’t fit both it and a chair in to the office. I had to leave after one day forgetting to cut my toenails. Unfortunately a rogue rough edge sliced her tuppence quite badly and bosses didn’t like the fact I shouted “Better out than in!” when her guts all slid out. I still don’t know why I did that to be honest.
Let us be realistic though, a love like ours (I’m assuming you are in love with me – we discussed it at length in one of our imaginary conversations the other day and, although you didn’t expressly say the word “love” you kept pointing at your lap and winking) would only have cause problems in the office.
Not between us of course, because our love would be so strong it would last all time, build a shed from scratch or perhaps pick up and rotate the all the world’s guinea pigs through 180 degrees. The problem would be that every other woman in the office would almost certainly fall in love with me too (winking, pointing, fainting, salivating, sneezing etc) and the jealousy would be so fierce it might actually heat the surface of the earth up enough to make it too hot for the aforementioned guinea pigs and they leap up in shock and rotate themselves back round again.
So, I guess this will be my final letter to you. It’s time for this big shoed hero to limp off in to the sunset – his turtle and fish in tow (actually, the turtle can waddle along on its own) – and imagine adventures elsewhere.
Good luck in finding someone new. May I recommend the man who played Watson in that Sherlock thing on telly? I had a good chat (imagined) with him the other night and he seemed to think scheduling (whatever it may be) would be the route for him after he’s done all the acting.
I wave a farewell flipper at your presence.
Anthony.
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