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| Scene from an interview when my would-be manager suggested
that another applicant was more qualified. I didn't get the job...
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June 15th. 'Rt. Hon. Alan Milburn, the Chair of the (Social Mobility and Child Poverty) Commission, said: "This research shows that young people with working-class backgrounds are being systematically locked out of top jobs. Elite firms seem to require applicants to pass a ‘poshness test’ to gain entry. Inevitably that ends up excluding youngsters who have the right sort of grades and abilities but whose parents do not have the right sort of bank balances." ' (Press release)
What a surprise! To whom? Nobody with a brain, surely. As for the proles, they're too dumb to notice, aren't they? It's only right, after all, that those from moneyed backgrounds should profit from their inherited privileges (money & ejudcation) - 'cause that's how it is in the capitalist jungle. In Britain, especially, where we love the class system. Even if we don't, we can't escape it. We can try to escape the class we're born into, though, if we're working class. Nobody wants to escape the middle or upper classes. Everyone wants to be in them - come on, make room! What do you mean, "there's no room"? It's crowded with stinking proles in here and all the immigrants applying for the same jobs as us - the bastards! We want that minimum wage!
If you're redundant it's best to move to Cornwall, become a hermit, grow a (non-hipster) beard clogged up with seagull shit and matted like the wool on a sheep's arse - trust me, that's what I'll do - study ornithology and wear a rugged jumper filled with holes...smoke a pipe...stare at the sea for hours...contemplate what a shitty life you had in the city, crammed in with the rest of the poor bastards fighting over the crumbs thrown to you by company directors on top salaries...
...yes...live in a shack, which is more than you could afford in the city, where you paid half your wages for the rent on a damp bedsit. So you have your shack, perhaps a second-hand telly but no computer, which is OK because the social network only wound you up with it's illusionary world of 'friends' who didn't actually give a shit about what you were doing. Now you're truly self-centred and it's a good thing, the best kind, the kind that no-one else need be burdened with...
...perhaps you'll go to the local pub where, having done so for three years, you'll finally be accepted (unless you're black, in which case, good luck) despite being on the dole because everyone else is on the dole. Those young folk who sit at the same table every week...you finally pluck up the courage to talk to them, only to find out that all your prejudices were unfounded because they do know who Sun Ra is and they've read William Burroughs! Turns out they all lived in cities once. One's even an artist and not the kind that paints rural scenes! No, she paints Hard Edge abstract style, when she can afford the materials, which is never, so she once painted Hard Edge abstracts, at college. Now she's on anti-depressants, never having fulfilled her potential. None of them have, including The Writer and The Musician. But that's OK because you're all in the same boat, as opposed to being with city-dwellers who still imagine they have a chance, because they're in the city...
More useful advice soon...
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