Vinylrichie’s Weblog

 I saw some men on the TV news two nights ago. They worked in finance and were shouting each other like the way a normal person and a scientologist might do. The problem would appear to be that something or other to do with the economy had crashed – maybe one of them had dropped the other’s piggy-bank and had got irate. The newsreader sounded solemn and told us that no one has any money to spend due to this terrible piggy-bank catastrophe. I think the shouty suited guys may look after all our money and now it’s gone and rolled under the fridge where it can’t be reached.

This is my understanding of global finance. You would’ve thought that at 32 I may understand about stocks and shares and er, that - but I haven’t a clue. I have lived a sheltered life and I blame having spent too many years doing a job where these things never mattered. But now they do because I don’t have any customers! No one has any money for food let alone records. So this is where the panic sets in as the job market will need to be tackled and I’ll get found out to be the child I really am. Everyone else at my age is thinking of marriage, children, divorce, remarriage, re-divorce, ISAs, pensions, Life Insurance, buying sofas, holidays, choosing soft furnishings, buying cars and the like…

I’ve discovered that my record shop cocoon has dealt me a mortal blow: I’ve realised I can’t cope with the real world; I can’t drive, I’m totally ignored by women, so have no chance of pro-creating, cohabiting or spending the day buying cushions. I’m up to my ears in debt and my CV looks very small indeed and making the font bigger to use up more pages fools no one. I’m not really going to be sought after in any sphere, especially not the job market. And without a decent job I can’t afford anything, which makes me even more unappealing to the opposite sex and I can’t afford to learn how to drive. If I learn to drive I have more chance of getting a job, if I get a new job I have a slim chance of meeting some women (although they are all spoken for in my age bracket or just quite insane) and improving my CV and gaining confidence. Catch 22 or what? Maybe I’m wrong – I’m frequently told that I’ll be a good catch for some lovely girl. This statement is usually said by women – but funnily enough they are never interested either. My Mum used to say that I’m too fussy but I used to laugh sardonically at her. Fussy implies one might have a choice of whom to ’get it on’ with. She also said that I go for the wrong women. Of course they’re the wrong ones! They say no! I’m going to have to plough through the ads in the back of magazines for the lazy eyed and club footed 76 year old ’right ones’ with B.O methinks. Or someone who wants a British passport.

 And jobs? Oh dear. I applied recently to a book shop as I would like to indulge my other passion and also actually work with some other people. I didn’t even get an interview. It must be because I’m experienced, good at customer service and love books. Definitely wrong for the job without a doubt. People also say that I’m too negative but this springs from the fact that life’s favourite hobby is wrestling you to the ground and  farting in your face and accidently following through. Christ, even the people that write those cloying self help books are adulterers, alcoholics, workaholics etc. Why? Because they’re unhappy too - even though they tell people to cheer up and be positive for a living and get incredibly rich doing so. The biggest irony I can think of to illustrate this is this: reggae singer Bobby McFerrin wrote a very, very famous and chirpy song called ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy.’ It features lots of whistling and positive vibes and is meant to fill one with strength and vim so the world feels conquerable…

A few years ago he killed himself.

I wonder what the b-side was? Maybe it was ‘Don’t Worry, There’s Always a Bottle of Vodka and a Tubfull of Pills Handy If All That Whistling Doesn’t Work.’

So what to do? I’ve been looking at jobs. Then I’ve been looking again and still failing to understand what the hell they want people for. Middleweight Web Designer? Surely it doesn’t matter who you can beat up when you’re supposed to be spinning webs? Strategic Conversion Analyst? I don’t even know what to ask about that except ‘Eh?’ It’s infuriating and I’d never be able to keep a straight face in a proper corporation when they started wittering on about ‘thought showers’, ‘blue sky thinking’ or ‘thought grenades’. My friend works for a big American company that even employs a chair specialist to teach people how to use chairs – or lower limb posterior reclining and rest units as they are probably called – how utterly idiotic is that? The thought of having to appear keen to get a job with people that talk that much through their arses leaves me cold and will probably see me sacked within days because I am far too cynical and am used to talking people using real language and everything.

Anyway, I’ll keep plugging away and might even put something funny in my next blog. Sadly (?) I’ve run out of record shop steam to keep this specialist blog going so this is the last post(bugles at the ready) on this particular theme. I will be back to talk about other things of which I know little about so you won’t get away from me that easily.

 Thanks to all that have read my witterings and laughed. Special thanks go to all that encouraged me, commented, recommended me to others and to the record buying nutters of this little town -without whom this blog and my depression would not have happened. Gawd bless ya.