Tuesday, April 22, 2008

The world of work

On Sunday morning we were all ripped early from our slumbers to drive for an hour and a half to Carantec on the northern coast of Brittany. This was preceded by the following conversation:
My sweet H : You can’t wear that sweat shirt, it isn’t smart enough. Haven’t you got a shirt?
Drummer boy : What do you mean, smart? I don’t have any shirts.
My sweet H : Here, take this. (Hands him a pale blue shirt. )
Drummer boy reluctantly takes off his enormous rather fashionable very grubby grey zipper sweatshirt with the hood lined with white fake fur and various suspect little holes in the front of it.
My sweet H : And this. (Hands him a black sweatshirt with no designer label on it which is the right size)
Drummer boy puts on shirt and sweat shirt. My sweet H continues his inspection and his eyes arrive at the crotch of Drummer boy’s trousers and stop right there. It is at knee level. Drummer boy is 6 foot 2 inches tall. It is a long way from his real crotch to his false crotch, probably…
My sweet H closes in and a brief tussle ensues. Shirt and sweatshirt are raised to reveal the belt of the trousers clenched tightly underneath buttocks and half a metre of boxer shorts proudly on display.
After five minutes of intense bargaining, trousers are hoisted further up the mast and a compromise is arrived at with belt just on the hip bone.
My sweet H : Can’t you do something with your hair?
Drummer boy : I’ve washed it…
Girlfriend, chauffeur and carrier of drum kit has requested that Drummer boy should grow his hair to enhance his image as a rock god. It is, at the moment, at an intermediate stage, too short to tie back but very thick and like a hedge trimmed by an unskilled topiarist to resemble a helmet.
We were running late. My sweet H took the corners quickly and was reminded that the dog is often sick when this happens. A bad tempered silence filled the car, punctuated by snoring coming from Drummer boy in the back seat. He was delivered finally to his place of employment. He was to work for two hours in a restaurant to see whether they will employ him for the summer period after his BAC exams. He has played drums for money before, but this is the first time that he has come up against the real world of work.

After two hours of wandering on beaches and a nice meal in another restaurant not too far away, we returned for him and found him sitting on a step shivering in his coat, his shirt a crumpled ball in his hand.
“How did it go?”
“Well I spilled a bottle of wine down my shirt, but they lent me another one. Oh, and I knocked into a table and everyone’s drinks fell over.”
“Did you get the job?”
“They said that they would call me…”

8 comments:

Lesley said...

That "probably" really made me smile.

Mrs. Chili said...

LOVED this story!

I work at a community college, and I'm astounded at how well the students' clothing can defy the laws of physics. I'm still not sure how (or, for that matter, WHY) they dress like they do. Until they run up against resistance in trying to get a job, though, they've no reason to change.

rr said...

Hahahahahahahahahaha

Mike said...

Great story. I hope they do call him.

Lucy said...

The sleeping bit was probably the best moment for him.

Re the 'probably', you're his mother, don't you know?

Rosie said...

Well the phone has still not rung so far.
As for the "probably"...a strange phenomenen of bodily shyness occurs as adolescence sets in...we still parade round with nothing on but they start to barricade the bathroom door (perhaps that is why!)...so Mum would be the last to know.

leslie said...

I'm rolling on the floor laughing out loud with tears streaming down my face. Too funny!

Reminds me of when my daughter was 19, had a nose ring, various coloured hair, and wore short skirts and these huge military boot that laced almost up to her knee. She couldn't figure out why the sales clerks in stores would glare at her or not serve her. lol

Dick said...

Oh dear, the French/Breton equivalent of 'Don't ring us'!

As for the drooping trouser phenomenon, has there been a weirder fashion in recent years? Oh well, the French invented the concept of 'sans culottes'...