Viva Brighton Issue #39 May 2016

COLUMN
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John Helmer
Reaching out
Accidentally, I got a job.
For those of you new to this column – or just a
bit slow on the uptake – I am one of nature’s freelancers.
It’s how I roll. Misanthropic, distractible
and selfish to a fault, I call no man my master and
like to work peculiar hours. I fret in harness.
And then my favourite client unexpectedly fell
pregnant (unexpectedly so far as I was concerned
at least), and somehow I was enticed into covering
her maternity leave.
So it’s goodbye to those cherished home office
rituals of nose-picking, freecell-bingeing, can’tbe-arsed-this-morning-think-I’ll-go-for-a-bikeride
and screaming obscenities at Fi Glover on
the radio.
Suddenly, I am a number, not a free man; up to
my eyes in logins, privacy policies and surprise
Skype meetings with mystery agendas where
an unshaven person from a random time
zone joins me in attempting to guess
what it is we’re supposed to be talking
about. I sign two or three birthday
cards a day for people I’ve never heard
of. When I trip across the road to
the coffee shop at 11am, I wear the
Lanyard of Shame.
“They make me start every morning
at nine o’clock,” I complain to
friends.
“Yes but you go home at two-thirty,”
they scoff.
“But I have to sit in an office. With
other people.”
“Did you talk to anybody today?” says
my wife, who tends to caricature
somewhat, I feel, my naturally diffident mien.
“Of course I did. I’m a communications expert
for fuck’s sake: that’s what it says on my LinkedIn,
anyway… I spoke to someone in Stockholm, I
spoke to someone in Luton…”
“Luton.”
“It’s a global organization, Kate. I not only spoke
to them – I reached out to them. That’s what we
do in business nowadays: we reach out.”
So overwhelming has been this sudden immersion
in the world of salaried employees that this
month’s Viva deadline crept up on me a bit. Desperate
for inspiration, I reached out to Facebook.
“Does anybody have a good idea for a humorous
520wd column in a Brighton lifestyle magazine?
Written POV a man in later years who is finding
that life on the whole has not lived up to expectations.
With hilarious results. Deadline Thursday,
don’t sit on your hands.”
This is Facebook to me...
—Man in later years digging his garden uncovers
a box of WWII grenades and uses them to throw
at people in his office.
—Man in later years goes to prison for throwing
grenades at people in his office and discovers he is
not too old to be used like a bitch.
—Man in later years plus spouse get fitbits. She is
fit he is shit. Hilarity ensues.
Me to Facebook: Thanks all, you proper got
me out of a hole there (like fuck). Don’t expect
attribution.
—If none of us gets credit we’re coming round
your house en masse to give you a Chinese burn.
—And a dead leg…
After that it got ugly.
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