What an interesting turn of events. Yesterday as I was sulking at my desk, only ten days into my newest dot com job, a job agency I’d been dealing with in my recent search for work persistently called my mobile phone over the course of the day.
Escaping for my lunch break and clamping a hand over my ear to hear my voicemail over the surrounding hubbub of tourists, I was surprised to hear that a company I’d interviewed with a few weeks ago were desperate to get me on board – immediately. I’d turned down the role they initially offered me because it wasn’t paying as much as I’d been looking for, but the role they wanted me to take on now was quite different and very unique.
Upon returning from my lunch break, I was plunged forth into a meeting which detailed further doom and gloom in the dot com sector. Everyone around me seemed to have the energy sapped out of them, and I began regretting my move back into dot com companies. This certainly wasn’t the fun industry to work in that it used to be. I seriously began considering the proposal that had been made to me.
The fact that it was my 22nd birthday seemed to reinforce my eventual decision to quit my job that very day – I saw this new job as somewhat of a birthday present.
Besides, if you were a big fan of Big Brother, would you turn down an opportunity to manage the contestants?
Of course not. Hence my frenzied phone calls to what is now my old workplace and their understandable disappointment – but I simply can’t turn down an opportunity like this. It seems like not only the perfect ticket out of the dot com cesspool but also the first job I can say with complete honesty I’d look forward to going to each day.
I’ve got a two month contract to do the Big Brother stuff, and if there’s more available work after that time I’ll hopefully continue full time with the company. If I have to find work elsewhere, at the very least I’ll have got some pretty damn unique experience and crap knows where all that will lead.
But for now, I’ll just go with the flow and see where this takes me. I still haven’t taken in everything that’s occurred in the last 24 hours.
It sure beats the dreary government job I had this time two years ago, eh? At least I’m not constantly worried about not staying on the bleeding edge of government legislation – one missed policy announcement and my arse was on the line. Then there’s the time I was dealing with a sobbing woman on the phone, processing some information relating to her husband’s death; and I made a glaring mispronunciation. When I asked her who the executor of her late husband’s estate was, I pronounced it executor as in ‘execute’. It seemed a strange question at the time, but only after her gasping wails did I understand the error I’d made.
So. Here’s hoping I don’t screw up in my new job, eh? I’m incredibly nervous because I’ve never managed people before, but simultaneously excited out of my mind.
Perhaps it could lead into managing shite top 40 boy groups or girl groups. I’ve been harbouring an idea for some time which, as far as pubescent boys would be concerned, is entertainment gelignite.
See, to truly strike the core of what this particular demographic is entertained by, I’ve realised that the most successful way to create a best-selling top 40 artist would be to strip away everything associated with the artist – except for the bare minimum aspects which the demographic is entertained by.
Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you: ‘Tits’. A super-stylish, all-singin’, all-dancin’ pair of breasts. Honestly, how could most straight pubescent males resist such an artist?
Tits, managed by yours truly, would release a blockbuster first single that shoots to #1 with a bullet. The video clip would encompass the epitome of special effects, as the nation’s favourite pair of bosoms sing an anthemic, catchy song which is constantly spinning on every cheesy top 40 radio station’s playlists.
To coincide with the release of Tits’ album, a second single would be released – a power ballad, featuring flamenco guitars, quadruple harmonisation and the breasts sitting around a campfire singing along with a group of friends.
Rolling Stone magazine features Tits on a front cover spread and feature photo shoot, as Left Breast and Right Breast exclusively reveal to readers what they get up to in their own private time. Eight pages containing somewhat suggestive pictures of the two breasts attempting to lie decoratively around their home comes under criticism from parents of younger readers of the magazine.
Typically, Juice magazine attempts to find a negative spin on the group, but nobody buys the magazine anyway.
Tits proves to become a merchandisers’ wet dream: everything from the Tits board game to the official Tits lunchbox is released (the lunchbox’s left breast features a chilled compartment). Consumers lap it up for fear of being perceived as out of style.
Then the ‘difficult’ second album is released – to critical dismay and flagging sales. Cheesy sales stunts are attempted, including a nation-wide shopping centre search for the best Tits lookalikes, but not even this can save the album.
After taking a year’s break to re-plan their strategy, A&R specialists from the US are hired to re-launch the band’s image. Drawing from New Kids On The Block’s “bad boy” relaunch, Tits is similarly relaunched with an edgy, streetwise look. Left Breast now appears pierced, much to the outcry of parents of young fans; and the band is renamed Titz to reinforce their ghetto look.
Making a decision to axe the previous songwriters for the group, Titz’s label hires another musician on their roster to write some bad-attitude rap-rock tunes for their third album. In a fatal blunder, they mistakenly hire Max Cavalera of Sepultura/Soulfly fame. Not even someone who has penned songs with such thought-provoking titles as ‘We Who Are Not As Others’ and ‘The Past Reborns The Storms’ can create a successful album for Titz.
In a controversial fight with Left Breast, Right Breast makes an announcement she is leaving the group. Rumours flood the nation’s gossip pages of who the replacement will be. To everyone’s surprise, the hot favourite – Jon Stevens – is overlooked, in favour of Jack Jones, ex-Southern Sons singer.
The band languishes after a dismal concert tour and eventually Left Breast and Jack make a decision to disband the group. It is around this time that Right Breast launches her solo career and takes petty potshots at her ex-bandmate, which publicly upset Left Breast incredibly.
Left Breast begins clinging to pop icons in a desperate attempt to remain relevant, much in the style of Tom Jones and Elton John. She believes her career could be resurrected when a duet is recorded with the Backteat Boys, but decides to finally throw in the towel when the song flops and becomes a hair stylist for popular TV presenters.
Meanwhile, Right Breast admits to rumours that she’s actually 35, not 25 as previously claimed. The news does little damage to her career, as by now her record sales are struggling to beat Wendy Matthews and other such ‘contemporary adult’ artists.
The final public appearance of Right Breast is on a Coke ad, set to the original Titz hit single. Right Breast is filmed tumbling down a sand dune on a deserted beach with friends, all gulping Coke from a chilled Esky packed to the brim with the bubbly beverage. Upon realising her career has been reduced to this, Right Breast retires to tropical Queensland and ventures from her secludedness only to guest present ARIA awards annually.
Uh… yes. What a great idea I have.