Earlier today, a friend let me know that the President of Ireland is advertising for a speech writer. Now, the President has long been my favourite Irish politician, and I remember being openly jeered at for saying that he should be Taoiseach. And while I’ve lost faith in the Labour Party, I still look up to our President in a way I look up to very few people.
And myself and the President were fated to be together. One of my biggest boasts is that he once bummed a cigarette off me in Fethard-on-Sea in Wexford when I was an undergraduate. And he was in my Dad’s class in secondary school.
And I have notions of myself as a writer.
So I toyed with the idea of applying for the job. I’ve declared before here that I want to be a performer, or that I want to be a writer, that I don’t ever want to have a job where you have a pension and annual leave and human resources and a water cooler. And a large part of me panics at the thought of any job like that. And I’m woejously underqualified. And I don’t have the right experience. And I have no idea if I could write a speech. And I have a PhD to finish. And I wouldn’t want to have to leave Hall. And I question the value of the presidency.
So I don’t want this job. Except I kind of do. Because in my head, I’m Toby Zeigler from the West Wing. And in my head, I love our President. And I have always dreamed of making a difference, of making the world a better place, of being a contributor.
So I continued toying with the idea. And something led me to text my mother (a joke? my subconscious desires?) and say I was applying for the job.
She texted me back to say “That job would just up your street. Will start praying.”
I think I have to apply for the job now.
As I related this story on Facebook, a friend of mine commented that I should probably do something about the blog if I’m applying for the job. As I’ve said here before, one Google search renders me completely unemployable.
Sigh. I’ll decide later.
I was pondering the fate of my blog when I got a phone call. It went a little like this:
“Hi. Is that Connor?”
“I’m calling about the terraced houses.”
“Are you still renting those terraced houses?”
“What terraced houses? Where did you get this number?”
“There was an ad on Gumtree.”
Sigh again. I might have given my phone number to too many people when I was distributing my fabulous new business card. I checked Gumtree. There is indeed an ad with my name and number in the house rentals section.
4 houses beside each other, all same price (€2,000- €500pp). Preferably let as a set (16 people).
These large houses are ideal student accommodation. Large kitchen, equipped with blender. Large garden in the back, perfect for kickabouts and practising backs moves. Barbecue already in place. Large outhouse in back with large freezer for meat and fridge for beer. Fibre power broadband supplied.
Located beside an English school for Spanish exchange students. Ideal for students in Spanish based courses looking for well paid part time work.
Available from Mid-September 2013 until end of May 2014.
Please call/text Connor on 0863628751 if interested. No emails please.
There are at least ten different people I think might have put this ad up. It’s absolutely hilarious. Maybe I do need to be more careful with my private details. Or maybe I don’t. I can’t decide.
PS. I’ve just had a look around Gumtree and I found this too:
Male Bearded Dragon for sale. Lovely tame animal with very low maintenance. Selling due to relocation. Possibility of selling equipment also (tank, water bowl etc.). Price negotiable. Please call on 0863628751. No email