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"Mechanised petrification, embellished with a sort of convulsive self-importance"
I applied for an admin job with a dance company, partly because I imagine that it's the sort of job in which you'd meet plenty of women, and most of the men are gay, so there'd be little competition for a straight man attracted to arty girls.
"...we regret that on this occassion [sic] we are unable to invite you for interview. We hope you feel inspired to work with [the company] in the future."
Well, not quite unable to interview me; you've chosen not to. And what a ridiculous final sentence, the insidious Weltschauung of work as an expression of the individual spirit. I received that email on the same day as I read Jenny Turner's review in the LRB of Richard Sennett's new book. "It simply doesn't make sense any more, this infusion of working life with near religious emotion, but people still do it".
The vibrant economy of north Lancashire, does however throw up other opportunities.
Does it mean you're working in the refrigerated section or are they looking for a bit of a stoner? More sinisterly, is it a coded warning that the job will require immense reserves of patience and the elimination of self as one is faced with both the stresses of being polite to customers who don't deserve it, and having constantly to defend yourself and your £6.08 an hour against the microsurveillance of a hostile management?
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