Brick Wall

So how are we all enjoying the World Cup? In fairness it has picked up since the knockout rounds, but so far,for me its been pretty meh! Although in the interest of giving props when due, I have to say I was quite impressed watching Brazil take on Cote d’Ivoire the other night. Brazil seem to have mixed their traditional flair and attacking football with a solid defence which is a little different for the boys from the Copacabana.

Being something of expert myself, I was fully expecting the lads in the studio to agree with my analysis at half time. So while I sat there waiting to hear Didi Hamman and Eamon Dunphy confirm my incite into the beautiful game, I found myself being distracted by what has become something of a familiar irritant this last week or two.

Vevuzalas. The annoying plastic horns that have been blaring a slightly off key B flat droning out of our televisions screens all the way from South Africa. I mean its bad enough when its going on during the game…but for the half time studio discussion? I thought that is a bit much.

Of course being the clever person that I am, I eventually realised that I was mistaken. The sound wasn’t coming from my TV this time. It was closer.

I looked around to see if I could locate the source of the noise. Quick scan of the room. Eyes searching. There, in the skylight on my roof, the buzzing cause of my vexation. It wasn’t the horns of Bafana Bafana sounding like a trapped bumble bee this time. No, this time, it was an actual trapped Bumble Bee.

A little black and yellow fuzzy nugget of noisy nuisance. Flying into the window. Over and over he (I’m assuming it’s a he because of his failure to ask for directions) would draw back and attempt to make his escape through the window. Wings flapping, buzz buzzing he burst forward expecting to feel the wind coarse through his hair.

Again and again he was repelled with a thunk. His little bee head bouncing of the pane of glass. I watched this with more amusement than a man of thirty plus years should get from an insect. Thirty seconds, a minute, a minute and a half passed and I was still smiling at his futile attempts at escape.


By the time two minutes rolled around, my mirth began to ease. I watched him as he continued on his mission and I felt a twinge of guilt and then sadness then finally recognition. To paraphrase Dr F.J. Lewis from History Today, ‘That’s me that is!’

I saw something in that pesky bee that rang true to my heart. As he continued to pummel his head against the glass wall, I thought about how I constantly do the same stupid things over and over again. Things that I understand aren’t in my best interest but yet time and again I go back to the well.

Be it poor choice of female companion, or behaving in a manner detrimental to a relationship. Over consumption of alcohol. Making compulsive decisions that are not conducive to a happy and healthy lifestyle. Over the years, repeatedly, I have gone back to that well of self sabotage.

With the help of psycho analysis I have learned to recognise when I am heading down these roads. It doesn’t always stop me going down them. Most of the times I halt my negative behaviour, but sometimes, sometimes I allow myself to go further than normal because I convince myself that I know what I’m doing. This is not true. I’m like that guy in the big river in Egypt.

Living this way has in the past made me incredibly unhappy. I don’t want to have this kind of existence.

I recently watched the movie Greenberg. It stars Ben Stiller as a miserable, disaffected , sad lonely guy.
When I was in my twenties I loved movies about these kind of characters. They were cool and indie. I related to them. Usually because they were in their twenties. This character, Greenberg, I fucking detested.

In this movie Ben Stiller was in his 40’s. He was angry and confused because his life didn’t turn out the way he expected. I can appreciate that. However what I can’t appreciate is that the self serving whiney asshole did nothing to change it. He was miserable and he excused himself for being a dick because he was unhappy. Sadly this is something I’ve probably been guilty off in the past.

In general the movie made me think ‘I can’t be doing this crap when I’m in my forties.’ I can’t keep messing around and expect people to understand. I need to make things different. I need to keep pushing with the changes I have made in my life.

So, why am I telling you about it, you ask? Good question my friends. I’m going to need help. As I said a lot of the time I recognise when I’m doing stupid things. Sometimes I recognise and ignore it. What I need from you, if you see me making one of my poor life choices I need you to highlight it to me. I need you to be vocalise the annoying little voice that’s going on in my head.

Of course there is no point in you just saying to me ‘Don‘t do that John‘. I didn’t listen to my mother enough when she said it and I probably won’t listen to you . In all likelihood just think you are a killjoy and I’m in control, I’ll be fine. And that is blatantly not the case.

What is needed in a situation like this, as any submissive sex slave worth their salt will tell you, is a safety word. A single word which will spark my brain into action and make me realise that I’m doing something stupid again.

A good safety word should be something that is strong and unusual enough to not come up in regular everyday conversation. I’m thinking, in honour of my inspirational friend of going with bumblebee. But if anyone has a better suggestion I’m always open to a good safety word.

Oh and in case you’re are wondering about the bee. Eventually he realised he was banging his head needlessly against the window. He stopped, changed direction and flew out the door. You’re all smart people. I don’t need to explain that metaphor to you, now do I?

Milliner

I hate doing up C.V.’s. I’m trying to do one up at the moment, but I hate doing them so much I decided to write this instead.

Your typical résumé is supposed to define you, in less than three pages and with bullet points. And when I say 'define you’ what it really means is tell prospective employers about your work experience. They don’t really care if you have the worlds greatest collection of plastic beer glasses from music festivals or once abseiled down the side of Cineworld on Parnell St.

They want to know that you are capable of holding a job and that your last employers thought you weren’t a threat to their financial status or the rest of their staff (although more about the financial than the staff…it’s a recession, everyone is downsizing.)

I resent that some person who I’ve probably never met before is going to judge me based on a couple of words printed on a piece of paper giving a list of roles and tasks that I have carried out to varying levels of competence over the years


Its understandable if you want to be introduced as a Doctor or Solicitor or something that requires two thirds of a decade of study to get qualified for. You’ve earned it. I think you are entitled to be introduced as Dr. House or Quincy, M.E. I’m a big fan of letters after your name. In fact from here out I’d like to be known as John Holohan, Jo.A.T., Mba. F.A. (that’s Jack of All Trades, Master of Fuck All.)

Actually it might work out better if we were all introduced by our name and profession. Then we wouldn’t have to go through the awkward part of conversation were we sit and pretend to be interested in just what it is the person we have just met spends eight hours a day doing.

For me, most of my ‘professional’ (term used very loosely) life, I hated talking about what it was that I did for a living. I hated doing most of the jobs I had, never mind talking about them. I guess maybe that’s the point. If you love your job, you love to talk about it. If you hate your job, you hate to hear some annoying sod raving on about how great theirs is. Maybe it’s just me.

I suppose I always hoped that I was more interesting that what my job title was. I know for a fact that my job titles were certainly a lot more interesting than what the actual entailed. To fully understand what I am talking about maybe we should look at the varied list of positions I have held in the name of earning an honest living.

Since leaving Waterford Institute of Technology (or Regional Technical College as it was known at the time) I have held the following positions

• Upholsterers Assistant
  
  View Enhancement Technician
  
  Retail Assistant
  
  Assistant to Retail Manager
  
  Customer Service Representative
  
  Commissions Assistant
  
  Commissions Executive
  
  Commissions Assistant (again)
  
  Fraud Analyst

Some of those Job titles are pretty impressive. If you were invited to a dinner party and were introduced to someone who said they were any of the above you might be tempted into asking a bit more about the career of your new friend. Don’t. Its not worth it. I’m going to save you those excruciating mind-numbing moments so that you can enjoy your filo pastry with crab and salmon filling starter.

Lets start with upholsterers assistant. Sounds like a creative job. Working with your hands. Taking some raw material and turning them into something beautiful that people will put in pride of place in their homes. Well, that all sounds wonderful. Its nothing like what the job is.

As an ‘Upholsterers Assistant’ my task was to make buttons. If any of your furniture (usually headboards of the back of sofas) has little pleats and buttons in them, well then you know the type of buttons I’m talking about. Made from the same material as the piece of furniture. I made those. Thousands upon thousands of buttons of different colours but all made with the same brain melting, soul destroying technique. I did this for 7 months.

After that I was a View Enhancement Technician. This was never my actual job title. I could just say window cleaner but that wouldn’t really fit in with the theme of the piece now would it?

Retail assistant, Assistant to Retail Manager and Customer Service Representative are all pretty straight forward. I think most people my age have tried their hand at least one of these jobs. Everyone knows what they are. You do all the crappy work making the public happy either front of house or as a phone monkey whilst dealing with all the grief from those higher up. Its true what they say. Money goes up the ladder while all the shit comes down.

I would like to point out that I never used to refer to Customer Service Reps as phone monkeys. Until one very nice customer eloquently pointed out that I was ‘just a phone monkey working in a banana republic.’ It was against company policy to argue with customers. And, to be honest, I could kind of see his point but I still hung up on him.

Now it gets complicated. Commissions assistant is quite an ambiguous job title. What it technically involved was assisting the Commissions Executive in calculating the payments of ‘Commission’ to Mobile Phone Stores based on the number of customers that they signed up to the network.

What this involved was looking at the contracts and proofs of id and laughing at someone who had a bad passport photo or a funny name. I know Roger Rabbitte parents didn’t know there was going to be a cartoon movie with the same name as they chose for their beautiful son. Still unfortunate though.

I was then promoted to Commission Executive. Which was great, its kind of the same as his assistant but sounds so much cooler. ‘Executive’ It has a ring to it. I then switched company to one of our rivals. It was the same job but in this company there was no Commission Executive, just assistants. More money but a bit of a drop in job title. I could live with that.

Then I became a Fraud Analyst. I’ve got to be honest. I had no idea what that job would entail. I just thought is sounded awesome. John Holohan, Fraud Analyst. Has ring to it. What that job entailed, I can’t really discuss. I signed an official secrets act and if I were to divulge too much information I’m afraid I would come to an unfortunate end in suspicious circumstances, just like JFK or Bambi’s Mum.

What I will say, is it was nowhere near as glamorous as it sounds. Due to the confidential nature of the role we were seconded into a very small office with a secret key code and people with questionable body odour. It was more running reports that kicking down door of fraudsters.

Frankly, I was duped. And if they were silly enough to give the job to someone who really understand the role well then I don’t see how there can be any complaints about my performance. Not that there were any. I’ve said too much. Stop reading….

These are the jobs I’ve spent the last twelve or thirteen years of my life. None of them have had a profound effect on my life other than to make me realise I don’t want to waste another minute doing a job I hate. I doubt if anyone were to meet me these days they would guess that I was Fraud Analyst or Customer Service Representative. And that’s all I ask.

If someone asks me what I do these days, I generally say a bit of this, bit of that. If they are interested I’ll tell them about my writing. If they aren’t I tell them about all the fancy Japanese stationary I sell. If they think they know who I am at the end of the conversation well then maybe they should consider a role in Fraud Analysis. I know of a company who is hiring.