Gabe
It feels like someone has just realised they’ve missed out on the chance to have a much younger girlfriend. Too late, Gabe. Your reaction that day on the field told me all I need to know.
I delete the email, then look back out at the view.
As I’ve decided that the advertising agency who have asked me in will be very cool andMad Men-esque, I have gone for a Rich Aunt Core outfit for the interview. Obviously, I had to heavily research this online, but the good news is that the look is ‘old money’, and it appears that’s what Devon is. So, I raided the vacuum-packed clothes storage bags at the top of her wardrobe and found just what I needed: a turtle-necked cashmere jumper, which I teamed with some pinstripe wide-legged trousers that I found on the Me+Em sale rail. I’ve also got some giant, slightlytinted glasses, and an old brooch I found that belonged to Grandma Pells. I think it’s meant to be a wounded pheasant, which is a bit grim, but it’s quite abstract and looks expensive and classy, from a distance anyway.
I get to the office early. It’s in East London, quite near where I did theLusciousshoot and easy to get to from Devon’s, which bodes well for my commute. If it wasn’t for the giant knitted Behold The Banana sign in the reception area, I would be unsure that I’d come to the right place, as I’ve never seen so few sexy men, and so many dogs outside of a veterinary surgery. To the extent that, when a young woman wearing a highly unseasonal ski hat leads me through to the interview room, I ask her if it’s ‘bring your dog to work’ day.
‘Oh,’ she says, ‘every day is bring your dog to work day here.’
Well, it certainly smells that way, I think to myself.
I’m led into a room and introduced to Floyd, the creative director, who is pacing behind a standing desk and wearing a t-shirt with YOU CAN GO HOME NOW on the front. Is that aimed at me? If so, I don’t feel like I’m off to a great start.
Next to him, and seated on a Pilates ball, is head of copy, Ramona. She has pointy ears and is wearing a pale green floaty dress, so I’m very pleased with myself for identifying an example of Castle Core in the wild. But why is she sitting on a ball? Is she in labour?
She intercepts my look and instead of a greeting says, ‘We’re ergonomic.’
I’m nervous and think she means ‘egocentric’ for a split second, so say, ‘I’m sure you’re not,’ in a kindly, Josie sort of way, then wish I’d said something cool and Gen Z like, erm… now I can’t think of any of my newly acquired phrases, my mind has gone blank.
It doesn’t matter, because Ramona ignores me and instead picks a wooden box up off the desk.
Well, this is all starting to look a bit moreMad Men. I don’t smoke but if this box has Lucky Strikes in I might just take one so they think I’m one of them. But as Ramona leans over with the lid of the box now open, all I can see inside is what looks like… sweets?
‘Would you like a gummy?’ she says without any suggestion that she’s joking.
‘A gummy?’
‘Pre-biotic.’
‘Right.’
‘And pro-biotic.’
‘Okay.’
‘And post-biotic.’
So definitely not fags then. I take one and chew it, wincing at the Haribo-esque flavour. What is it with this generation and their gummification of everything? And more to the point, when is someone going to slap me on the pinstripe arse, admire my punny headlines and offer me a scotch on the rocks, along with the job. This isn’t what I envisaged at all.
Floyd asks me to sit down, and they go through my (heavily fudged) CV while I try to remember my pretend date of birth and when I allegedly went to school.
‘We’re sorry that Chika, our client services director, isn’t here today,’ says Ramona. ‘Her roommate’s micro pig is ill.’
I snort, forgetting myself. ‘Wow, okay. Someone’s in for a written warning then.’
Floyd and Ramona stare at me.
‘I mean, because surely that’s not true?’ I splutter.
Floyd takes over: ‘Itistrue, so she’s allowed a mental health day. And at Behold The Banana, we don’t do warnings, or disciplinaries, or anything like that. In fact, we have very few rules at all.’
I compose myself and decide to be very interested in said few rules to show what a law-abiding as well as highly creative and team-playing individual I am. ‘So, what rulesdoyou have?’
‘We don’t allow clapping at the end of announcements or presentations,’ says Ramona. ‘It’s very triggering.’
For who? Sea lions? I don’t say anything though and just nod, as if this makes sense. ‘Any others?’
