A statement of intent

I went to interview for a day job today. Armed with my civilian CV and a splash of red lippie, I turned up in Toon to talk to a man about a job.

It was a real ‘put your money [or lack of it] where your mouth is’ moment.

There I was rattling off my previous experience, reeling off skills like pizza toppings-

‘You can tell you’re a writer [glancing down at his notes]. So, where do you see yourself in five to ten years?’

Had I said I was a writer? (I hadn’t said I was a writer, I’ve never said that because I’m not, until, maybe, now?)

Five to ten years? I should probably have had a stock answer ready for that one- he can't possibly expect me to say I want to be working in telesales in five to ten years, hang on, am I talking...?

‘In five to ten years I want to be part of a community, I intend to put roots down here in Newcastle, and I want to be in conversation with that community about the world around us…’ I smile. I am pleased. He is not.

Ad Man powers through, money, am I motivated by money?

‘No, not really.' I say, skimming my finger over a big red button labeled ‘SELF DESTRUCT’. 'I understand it’s necessary, but only so we can do the things that are really important.’

That raised a smile, another look down at his notes, for something, anything. His mouth moved; it was a bit like watching a goldfish at the fair, surrounded by bright lights and piles of tat we’re all supposed to want to win.

Could I see myself running one of the 95 offices the company will be opening this year?

Shit, how did we get here? My turn for goldfish impressions, I pout through the glass darkly, all the while locked in his unblinking earnest stare… I thought I was here to be someone’s marketing assistant, possibly a bit of telesales, you want me to run an office?

‘Fast track to manager within 6 months…’

 ‘No. To be honest, I can’t commit to that. As I said when I came in, I make theatre [it’s not a hobby, but there isn’t a box on your form for ‘other careers’]. And frankly, I could sit here and say yes, but then I’d be letting you invest time and training and in six months or less I’ll probably leave. Is honesty one of the traits you made a note of?'

[he consults his notes again, looks up, smiles] ‘Yes it is’.

We laugh.

‘Well I’m not going to waste anymore of my time’ he says graciously, without even a smidgen of rancor. ‘Thank you for coming in, you seem like a lovely lady…’

I definitely hadn’t said I was a lady…

And that was it, back out into the street, the sun high in my Northern sky.

And of course I’ve turned down jobs before, and promotions, and the snuggly comfortable security they could have brought with them. And yes, I have already said out loud that I want to make theatre, and a life, in the North East – but only to indulgent (actual) theatre makers, in the wee hours of the morning in the bonhomie bubble of Edinburgh fringe. Not to a real person, who thinks he’s talking to Kathryn Evans and doesn’t know how or why I have pinned my hair that way.

But now I’ve written it down. And put it on the internet.

And on Monday I’m meeting with a brilliant brain to pick her synapses for ways to produce a piece of work – the first thing I have ever written; we’re going to talk about how to make that real, too.

MORAL: Morals don’t pay.

P.s. If anyone wants me, I’ll be over here, polishing my ‘FOR HIRE’ sign.