"Mom, you may not want to stick your face in that particular towel." With that, the little bastard ran out the door, leaving me with a shit-encrusted pile of laundry and a backlog of work, anxiously awaiting even the slightest burst of inspiration.
Hello 2010.
It is during this silent purgatory between being at home and working at home when my mind wanders to trendy boardrooms and the beauty of leaving the laundry behind and morphing into a respectable human being. In advertising agencies around the globe, latte-sucking fashion victims would be feeding off one another's creativity in an attempt to start the new year with a brilliant, award-winning bang. I waddled over to the mini bar in my pajamas, with hope that an early, mid-morning snack and the fridge light bulb might trigger the one currently switched off in my head.
All I needed was a compelling 30-second radio script, a few witty headlines and a name for a start up company. Not exactly fucking rocket science, but maybe a few loads of laundry would get my creative juices flowing, at least until Happy Hour.
Crazy, bored people with anger issues usually end up scrapbooking or splattering brain matter all over post offices with an unlicensed semi-automatics – so lately – to thwart such drastic displays of creativity, I've been firing off resumés.
Yesterday, I sent my CV to Jump Headhunters. Jump is relatively new by Havenot's Mayflower standards, and their mantra is "creative career solutions" which is exactly what I am looking for. I told them I was crazy, bored, and looking for a high-paying job, 3 mornings a week – unless it was sunny because I play tennis – so maybe 3 cloudy, late afternoons. I'd have to switch the afternoons to midday if the little bastard has hockey, and of course I'd need an hour off mid-shift to walk the dogs, unless I could bring the dogs to work. I also wanted an office with a door and a comfy sofa-bed, because like Mad Men, I often nap after a boozy power lunch, or I may want to screw my secretary. I wanted an allowance for nice clothes – real clothes with shape and without skid marks or sports teams emblazoned on the front. Failing the clothing allowance, maybe I could wear pajamas to the office on puffy days. I wanted benefits: dental, life, travel, a car allowance, parking, and 6, no, wait, 8-weeks holiday, plus every other Friday off. I was looking for lively banter with happy, educated, beautiful people, and I would need an assistant who looked like Andy Roddick and was smart enough to cover for me when my creative juices were really flowing, if you know what I mean.
So far the phone hasn't been ringing off the hook with multiple offers. The Executive Search squad at Knightsbridge Robertson Surrette issued a restraining order after reading my resumé, but their mantra is "human capital solutions" which is creepy in a white-slave, human trafficking kind of way, so maybe they should hire me to come up with a new tagline.
In the meantime, I have to pull an ad out of my ass before Regis & Kelly. 'Better go.
halifaxbroad@gmail.com
Jump Career Solutions is at 6112 Quinpool Road. Call 482.4319 or cruise job opportunities online at: www.jumpcareers.ca.
Or, try your luck with the respected Knightsbridge Robertson Surrette headhunters, online at www.kbrs.ca. Just don't mention my name.
