Posted tagged ‘Job’

My New Job – narrated by R. Corbett

22 October, 2008

I cant make my new boss laugh.  I’ve been there for over a month, he barely breaks into conversation unless it’s to tell me I’ve done something wrong.  He revels in these opportunities of course, and any reason I give for said error is dismissed like a frigid, greying, spinster, aunt would undermine her younger sister’s perfect only child (as opposed to her elder sister’s only perfect child, who she jerks off whilst he sleeps, serenading him softly with the theme from Emmerdale, fingering him in the coda).  Attempts at all kinds of humour, from self deprecating to bolshy, sarcasm to coy, punny to dunny have failed, wilting faster than a diabetic in a two tonne vat of pure glucose.  This gargantuous vat is naturally situated in the bowels (to be accurate the adrenal glands) of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory (although technically at the end of the story he handed it over to Charlie so it’s no longer his… I wonder what kind of inheritance tax was involved in that situation…35% cocoa?).


Either way I’ve been trying to break the permafrost with no luck. 




The other day he explained to me that the job I was currently doing, in the private sector, required more savvy than the one I had previously incumbernated in the civil service.  Now you may say to yourself that incumbernated is not a real word.  Well it wasn’t when I started writing this, but it is now.  I made it.  Just like Shakespeare made up loads of words like hobnob, madcap, moonbeam and arsebandit.  (Go back and read those 4 words in the voice of Edmund Blackadder… done it?  Good.  Now you may proceed.)  Granted mine is a more early 21st century, ragged cut and shut of a portmanteau, but either way, be quiet and listen to someone who may be smarter than you.  As I was saying before the ingrained Victorian values (instinctive if you’re a WASP, enforced if you’re any kind of immigrant or descendent of one) of your thought process made you question the reality of such a word; a word that came about through the legoing… … … leave it… … the legoing together of incumbent and hibernated… … … … sorry, just waiting for the coggers to get it… … … *click*… … there we go… nice little reference for you Flann O’Brien fans whilst we waited.  And if the smuggy cuntishness  (Smuntishness?  Nah.) of this article is too much for you so far please leave now as you’ll only get more upset the further we go.  Staying are you?  You cretinous waste of ballsack joy.  This is probably the most you’ve read since your last payslip.  You utter fucking cunt… … cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt … … … … Fuck off and watch Top Gear, apparently James Blunt’s on it this week … … … … … … … …  Have they gone?  Good, hope they die of negative soul equity.


As I was saying, incumbent and hibernate, the two main skills I picked up whilst at the civil service.  I was there for a year, I did fuck all, absolutely jack shit.  They wouldn’t LET ME do any work.  So I turned my brain off.  I still turned up, I just didn’t turn on.  So when I started my new job I was in Park, as the Americans say.  Not Ji Sung Park, the teasingly elusive South Korean attacking midfielder, who, even if I tried to enter him would probably bounce on his toes, jink one way then the other, drop a shoulder and leave me for dead, holding my dick, like a solemn chimpanzee in a documentary out-take, pondering if he should spank the cheekiest of monkeys… Do chimps call it that? And if so what do monkeys call it?  Shaking the Lemur?  Rolling the Bonobo?  Pumping the Mandrill?  Anway I digress, I would be left like a chimp wondering if he should do the shake and vac for the 15th time today or take out his half read copy of War and Peace.  I know what I’d rather do.


I was in Park, I’d been moving sideways, was going nowhere mentally, desperate for some form of inspiration or contest and here it was, this new job with challenges and deadlines, people relying on me directly and my decisions, non-stop phonecalls, orders, complaints, questions and there’s my boss telling me to ‘duck and dive a bit more’ whilst I was at work.  How did I take this on board?  I responded as any proactive young professional would, when given this kind of inspiration and freedom, this chance to express themselves in a fast paced, high pressure, time definite, private sector environment, the kind of situation you think only exists in a Michael J Fox movie from the mid 1980’s.  “Duck and dive a bit more”…  What did I do?…  I hid under the desk…  He didn’t laugh.