Email: andreamucciolo@hotmail.it


italian writer and poet

 

I’m looking for a job

I acknowledge it: I made a very huge mistake to quit so early, now I know it. You see, I was going through a time of enormous discouragement and so, just for rage’s sake, I decided to give it up. But, take it from me, it was a giant mistake. I didn’t mean to do it really, I swear to you. And so, I ended up with nothing to do, nothing to look after, neither a job, nor something useful to do, with a large amount of time before me that I did not know how to employ, to spend.


As a matter of fact, I couldn’t actually have imaged something like this. I had always depicted in my mind this kind of situation in an entirely different manner. Boredom was killing me. So, I made up my mind to look for an another job: it didn’t’ matter to me what kind of job I was going to do, nor how much money I could have earned, I just wanted to leave this realm of nothingness. So, I went to a Recruitment and Employment Agency and applied for a job: so you, would like to apply for a job? They told me. Yes, sir, I know that it is possible, I answered. Yes, it is, but under some particular circumstances! They answered. Well, I tell you: in the past I confess that I did not behave in a proper manner but, as I said, it’s all in the past, I replied confidently. So, you are telling us that you did not behave properly? You have stolen from the common fund of the company you were partner of,  have robbed one of your former employers and you have had sex with your senior manager to push your way through and now you are telling us you did not behave in the “proper manner”? They said mockingly. Okay, that’s fine, I say it again: I’m miserable, I’ve been a mess of a man, I fucked everything up but, please, give me another chance, I implore you.   And so, really “moved” by my “allocution”, they consented to give to me another chance, to show them how much I was worth, that is, if I was worth anything at all, which I doubted.


It wasn’t easy: they asked me to undergo the most absurd and weird trials that I had ever heard of. For an entire month I lived my usual life, that is, a life of grief. I was compelled to be slapped in the face in a pub without being permitted to strike back, merely for the purpose to show them that I wasn’t any longer the “hothead” I had been in the past. I was forced to go to the “red light district” of Amsterdam, looking at all the hookers without even trying to touch them, not allowed to quench my lust not even with an “hand”, to show them that I was able to control my natural impulses. Ridiculous. Wacky. I was asked to fast for three days in a row, to prove that I was able to endure privation. Man, really off the wall! But, I succeeded in everything. Sod them all.


That’s it. Do you think you will be able to look after a little girl? They said to me in the end. With a huge effort I controlled myself from bursting out with the biggest, coarsest and wholehearted horselaugh that ever came out of man’s lungs. I, who had always hated children, now slumming around as a nanny for a snotty, whining and whimpering brat? But I didn’t give two frigging rotten figs: what it mattered to me was just to be able to go away from this crazy meaningless life of mine. Sure, I answered self-confidently.


The child was five years old. I looked after her day and night: I used to follow her to kindergarten and, since I could not take the school bus, I always rushed after the coach until my lungs were about to holler at me to stop my wild outrageous marathon leaving me dead on the street. To look after her at night, since now I realized I began to care tenderly for her and didn’t trust her parents, I used to climb a big Magnolia tree in front of the house that gave me line of sight straight into her bedroom and, amidst a waterfall of stale coffee and resisting the enticing alluring charm of the untimely and considerably bothersome Sandman, I kept doing my job. I was really well equipped: binoculars, sling to chase away villains, and a pocket full of chocolates to cheer the girl up whenever she was feeling sad.
Perseverance gave me its reward: I was “paged” by an old man, very much unlike all the other “heads of the department of idle retired people” that I went through previously, who gave me a sealed envelope, shook my hand warmly and proclaimed energetically: you passed the exam, my man, you are employed now, the job is yours. And he was the only one of all the “ heads in charge” that smiled to me. I went out, I pulled out the sheet of paper and read:


You passed the assessment period, so now you are legitimately entitled to work as a Freelance Guardian Angel.


Sure, I tell you, I had been wrong to quit so early, to take my life at fifty, but now… now everything held a different meaning for me. At last.


I smiled like I never had in all my wretched existence: great, now I was going to be in employment for the rest of eternity and totally without the need to drink any coffee!