I recently moved house, and have been in the no-home-internet zone for the past few weeks. While the lack of connectivity has been annoying (having to download the OK GO clip as a Quicktime on my laptop during work so we have something to talk about over dinner) – I’ve found myself focusing inward, and have rediscovered some forgotten docs lurking round the bowels of my hard-drive.
Below is a cover letter I wrote for my resume/portfolio just over a year ago (I never actually sent it to anyone). It reminded me of how all-cards-on-the-table desperate I was – it also features one of my favourite pieces of my own writing*.
*I am a dick for even talking about having a ‘favourite piece’ of my own writing.
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JAMES ROSS-EDWARDS: IN POINT FORM.
* So I've done an Arts Degree and studied Postgraduate Journalism and Creative Writing.
* I spent 2005-2008 working in some really terrible dead-end jobs.
* The things I have been (I’m happy to answer any questions):
- The graveyard shift receptionist at the Masonic Club's Hotel.
- The guy who stays up all night listening to the police radar at the SMH.
- The guy who checks financial plans for spelling errors.
- The guy who sub-edits a trade magazine.
* The positive side was that I did a lot of writing. Some of it has even been quite well received (on the internet, anyway).
*Below is the first part in a series I've written over the last year. It pretty much covers everything you need to know,
James VS The Recession
In late 2001 I made nearly $2000 (about $250,000 today) by selling charity chocolates. Brad helped. I ordered 100 massive boxes of them to my house on behalf of my school, and sold them under the guise of raising money for a school football trip that I was 99% sure would be cancelled (it was).
I tried to recreate this business model in November 2008, sans Brad. I started at Macquarie Bank HQ. Surely The Recession can't bother me in this place.
I wandered into the Bond St building feeling confident, $96 RRP of Maltesers in one hand, and equal value in Bounty/Snickers/Mars in the other. If I got rid of these boxes this afternoon, I'd be around $66 in black. 'Electric Feel!' I said (a popular expression for excitement at the time).
I milled about in the foyer, waiting to hitch a ride on someone’s security pass. It wasn't long before several of the bank's finest arrived back from lunch. They were all male, over six feet and had almost exclusively attended a north shore private school. This proved a good icebreaker - as I not only fit the above description, but was also dressed from head-to-toe in my former school uniform – the most suitable attire I owned.
Before I could start giving my chocolate spiel, the group of us spontaneously erupted into a loud version of 'Sex on Fire' (the only song we all knew). O the might with which we sang! O the force with which our huddle of bodies was held together – I was anything I wished. I was a Latin phrase on a crest, I was an Aboriginal child on a sporting scholarship. In that moment, I was Recession Proof.
Once the sing-along was complete, I was ushered into the lift with a series of backslaps and hugs.
'We're all going to a meeting on the 10th. Do you want to come?'
I obliged. 'Yes.'
I followed them out of the lift, and across the corridor of the 10th floor into a meeting room. Two men with enormous head decorations were at the table. It was The Presets.
'KIM, Julian, this man in a school uniform is our friend. He is here to sell us all chocolate for a rugby tour.'
'Silence!' Said The Presets. Several of the men began to shake with fear. 'I don't see any chocolates.'
'I, uh.' I'd somehow lost the chocolates in all the singing and hugging in the lobby. 'I am sorry. I lost them.'