If you ever need to organise a religious ceremony, you might find out how little religious spirit all your church-going relatives have. Knowing that we don’t love our neighbours, we are learning that our brother-in-law (apparently soon to be made Lord Lieutenant of Cheshire – though I imagine he needs to screw over the existing one first) has a bit of the twat about him.
The story begins…
So the kids decide they want to be Christened (in spite of my best heathen efforts). I’d put my foot down when they were born saying that it was a decision they could make when they were old enough. I have always been a bit confused about the child dunking ceremony. The Bible has John the Baptist doing river ducking on people who were old enough to know what they were getting into and big enough to hit him back if they weren’t up for it. But these days the Church tends to make sure any vestage of freewill is not available to the dunkee. Which I find bizarre in another way, since most of the questions that priests cannot answer about God, heaven, sin, belief, creation and all the other catechismal cataclisms, that prove their entire existence is a big fairy story, are universally answered by puffing out the chest and saying ‘That’s because God gave us freewill’. (Don’t even get me going on the inconsistent triad, Plato, the ontological argument or anything St Thomas Acquinas had to say about this, because it all amounts to no one having a clue. But the church invented a get out of jail card for awkward upstarts like me. It is called Freewill).
Anyway, young as they are, the further readings of David Hume, Anselm, arguments from design, cosmology and other remote parts of the county library have not really been factored in by them. The big book with colourful pictures has as with and the big smiley lady with the dog-collar – and it all looks like nice songs, no one being nasty and good fun, so the Yateslets are signing up for it.
Baptism is a type of marketing. It is banned in any other walk of life. Imagine at three months old being, signed up by Lloyds TSB, or enrolled into the Labour Party. Mind you it doesn’t take long before you are ‘burgered’ by MacDonalds usually with complete disrespect for your parents wishes because some other kid has an E Number birthday celebration at the shrine of Ronald MacDonald. The point being that, like MacDonalds, your religious choice is designed to be made for you before you know whether you are a rock, a plant, a mollusk or anything else. It makes sure that whatever else, you are a Christian and your arse belongs to God or is it Santa (they look very similar, hairy, grey, big white beard, naughty list, angels/dwarves) although only one of them is an anagram of ‘Satan’.
I guess Baptism is indoctrination. It is a ‘water mark’ that says, “You’re ours, your parents have made this decision for you, and this means that by circular reference you now have to ‘honour your mother and father’ so don’t go believing those pagan Jews, Muslims and Buddhists. And you really need to stay away from the spawn of the devil, namely: Catholics, Presbytarians, Unitarians, Seventh Day Adventists, The Osmonds and Tom Cruise.” In our case, we purposely didn’t make the decision for our children, they went all Jam and Jerusalem on us via the local C of E primary school.
So, carrying the burden of our childrens’ freewill amply about our shoulders we go about defending their right to it by organising a bloody event that we would not choose to go to if we were invited.
Carolyn spent weeks sorting out a mutually suitable date for the kids, the vicar, and three sets of god parents (you have to have three), two sets of grand parents, two uncles, two aunts, a mixed bag of cousins, two children, two parents and God of course, who we are assuming will have some kind of divine version of Microsoft Outlook and will have received an invite from the vicar. All the humans are scattered across two countries and five counties and God of course from an entirely seperate plain of existence.
And the date was thus carved in stone, money paid, paperwork completed, party organised and everyone knew where and when they were supposed to be. Until Bobby Skittle (my brother in law) goes into arrogant fuckwit mode (actually these days that is his only setting – arrogant fuckwit bordering on boorish bore).
More later…
Stoke want a Graphic Designer. There is a side to me that would drop my senior marketing and design management role and take that job. Or at least there was until I read the ad. Those of us who have trekked for many years along the design career path will all warn against jobs advertised like this. Let me translate:
Job ad: We require an artworker with design flair who is VERY good at the following:
Translation: Artworker = shit shoveller. Design flair = shit shovel in a pretty way.
Job ad: Producing spot on, accurate work for: press ads, print material, online work and Keynote presentations when needs must.
Translation: There will be no bounds to the variety of shit shoveling you will have to do *NB, the mention of Keynote suggests that this is a job on a Mac, so PC only users probably need not apply.
Job Ad: Working under pressure, getting things sorted pronto.
Translation: ‘Deadline’ will be everyone else’s favourite word, as in ‘We’ve been thinking over the last couple of months about this situation and we’ve decided that a 48 page prospectus is what’s needed – have it ready by Friday – that’s a deadline’. This phrase always means someone has been sitting on something for weeks, not having done anything about it and will then rush out a crap brief and will shout at you to get things done last minute. They will then blame you because it is impossible and is bound to fuck up.
Job Ad: Top communication skills with all members of staff.
Translation: Mind your Ps and Qs around everyone else, no matter who they are.
Job Ad: Supporting the marketing team.
Translation: No decision making in this role – just do what you’re told
Job Ad: Having an eagle eye for detail.
Translation: Everyone else is shit at spelling, but it’s your fault if you don’t spot their mistakes.
Job Ad: Working with Quark Express 8.0, Adobe CS3 Suite, Keynote, InDesign, Photoshop, Flash.
Translation: The software is years out of date, which means the hardware is even older. Most people’s chairs will be worth more than your design kit. This lack of investment in your position is a reflection of where you sit in the order of things.
Job Ad: Being flexible and nice.
Translation: You know what, sometimes one of the administrators will want you to do something really demeaning, like lick, stick and stuff envelopes. You will do this and smile about it too.
Key skills include:
Job Ad: Extensive knowledge of – Photoshop, Illustrator, Indesign, Flash, Microsoft Office Suite and Dreamweaver.
Translation: You will be competent with the software tools of a Graphic designer and know how to use the other stuff on the computer as well, including advanced multimedia and animation in the form of Flash and also Dreamweaver, the industry standard web design package.
Job Ad: HTML/coding experience, with the ability to create mini sites/custom HTML newsletters and then update content.
Translation: You will also know how to do Web design at a coding level. You clearly don’t have to be a qualified web design, because a qualified web designer costs a lot more in wages. What we are looking for is a fully experienced web designer – spending at least 50% of their time on this, but we only want to pay bottom of the scale graphic design rates. So you will have spent lots of time acquiring these highly sought after skills, which we want to harvest, but we have no intention of rewarding you for that aspect of your work in any equitable way.
Job Ad: The role involves a split between web and print design, so a good knowledge of both is highly important.
Translation: As above, you are actually required to be a web designer and a graphic designer as well but we only pay you for the cheaper skill set.
Key Tasks/Responsibilities:
Job Ad: To work well as part of the Marketing Team, producing artwork for all club departments and some external partners when required.
Translation: Just about anyone, inside the club or in fact outside the club will be able to tell you what to do.
Job Ad: Will work alongside our in-house design agency, providing them with all information and artwork they may need, and to give support where needed and vice-versa.
Translation: They do the creative stuff and have all the power in terms of strategy and direction. The in-house agency guys, however, have none of the responsibility if it all goes wrong. That’s where you fit in.
Job Ad: The successful candidate will need to manage a hectic workload, prioritising as you go and sometimes finding quick but successful solutions for projects that require a very fast turn-around.
Translation: Everyone dumps lots of problems on your desk that they can’t solve and it’s your fault if you can’t solve them either. It doesn’t matter which order you do it all in, someone will always be on hand to tell you to drop everything and give them priority.
Job Ad: Be able to take direction well, whether that is working form a detailed brief, or if you are given a task to do that requires you write your own.
Translation: Just do what you’re told and don’t argue, if someone gives you a duff brief, then it will be your fault for not being psychic and you will be labeled an idiot for not using your initiative..
Job Ad: Open to feedback from colleagues, managers and also from our external agency, and must be able to take this on board to produce something better.
Translation: Your the indian, everyone else is a chief. They will all give you a different reason why they think everything you do is shit. You will have to agree with them to that end. And, while you are the only qualified and experienced designer in the place, you need to get used to the fact that your opinions are not as valid as their own. To put it in a nutshell, they think that are actually better at your job than you are. You will resolve their many conflicting and confusing levels and types of criticism, agreeing with them all, berating yourself for your own shitness and somehow make them all happy in the end.
Qualifications/Experience:
Job Ad:
* Educated to GCSE level
* Higher Education/College/Graphic Design or similar
* Educated to BA(hons) level or similar achieving a 2:1 or higher
* Any marketing experience or education would be advantageous
* Would be preferable to have worked in the industry before in an in-house design role but not essential as all applicants will be considered
* Will need to show quality examples of past and current work (ie portfolio)
Translation: Perfect collection of University education with bags of experience in far better roles.
Job Ad: If you think you can do all of the above please send your CV with salary expectations to DELLA.BIRCHALL@STOKECITYFC.COM.Closing date 20th August 2010
Translation: We’ll pick the one who pitches their salary lowest
This advert says more about the relationship they had with whoever was previously in the job. I imagine they left under a cloud, leaving someone having a truly jaundiced view of designers. And this job description spits revenge. It is written like a spiteful letter to the previous designer.
As a job description, it sucks on so many levels. No decent designer is going to apply based on this ad. They will at best attract someone so poor at what they do, that they will simply perpetuate the vindictive feelings that the management clearly have for people who design for a living.
It does explain why most things produced by Stoke City are so poorly designed. They really should employ a senior designer, based on that designer’s experience and portfolio and then give them a brief to develop a design standard, brief the organisation about that standard and allow them to roll that out across all communications. If they need some junior designers to help, than that is fine, but to employ a junior to do all this is both unfair, unrealistic and will ultimately create poor design and a miserable designer, disillusioned in this role and their chosen career.
Last week our neighbours, The Twattocks, came back from holiday and (probably as a matter of course) came to snoop round our garden to make sure we were not doing anything they wouldn’t approve of.
Part 2: The Bullying Behavour Of Our Neighbours Mr and Mrs Twattock
Unfortunately we were doing some garden landscaping and this made them very cross. They wrote us a letter telling us in no uncertain terms that we were to be ashamed of ourselves, probably evil and most definitely in contravention of all sorts of laws.
We went to speak to them and Shaz Twattock (teacher by profession) did a finger-wagging thing at my nose repeating all this. I was actually quite restrained and used words like ‘reassure’ and ‘profuse apologies for any lack of courtesy’. I subtley tried to push back and did say that if they wanted to put a pergola or some such up in their garden, then it would not really be any of our business. But she didn’t really choose to understand the point.
She announced she would be bringing a surveyor round on Monday to pass judgement on all this. I said ‘okay’ I really should have said ‘fuck off and mind your own business’.
Monday came and Monday went – no surveyor. Then Shaz showed up on Wednesday choosing not to talk to us, the householders and property owners, but instead to our garden contractor. Apparently it suited her to saunter all over our garden with her surveyor on Friday morning. It was as though she was purposely going out of her way to treat us like shit.
Carolyn handled it and went to speak to her. Bizarrely, in every way, we agreed to the visit. Carolyn again asked them to park their 4×4′s in a safer way. Shazza explained why they parked like this. Apparently Stevie Twattock, her husband is very bitter about all the disruption and noise the insurance company builders made in 2009. As a result he finds this type of petty activity satisfying. I assume he is trying to piss us off and generally he has succeeded.
Interestingly, the surveyor, it turns out, was a ‘mate who is an engineer’. ‘Surveyor’ sounds very official and a bit legal. ‘Mate who is an engineer’ sounds like nothing I am going to pay any attention to anyway. Carolyn asked her what her objective was. Shaz said she wanted to know what the implications for her property might be. Carolyn asked her ‘with a view to what action?’ Shaz didn’t know. She’s a primary school teacher, perhaps the notion of answering secondary questions with anything other than a finger-wag and a ‘now behave’ comment is beyond her.
The day after, I did wonder whether I should call a halt to the whole arrangement. Carolyn suggested that we should let them blow themselves out. They cause so much danger and trouble to us with their bloody minded parking antics, but since Carolyn’s chat the 4x4s had retreated to a considerate distance, so we went with it. I suggested that as soon as they had got their way with their inspection of our garden the bloody cars would be back again. ‘Maybe’ said Carolyn
So Shaz Twattock and her engineer, Jeremy Chino-Chambrayshirt, came to pass judgement on our garden. They were due at 8.00am and sure enough at quarter to nine they showed up. I had prepared a small intro.
“Before we start, I need it to be understood that this exercise is not to do with stopping, altering, delaying or in any way changing this gardening project of ours.’
“David” Shaz replied in the most patronising of voices, “This was never about that, we would never try to interfere with anything you do within your own property”.
My mouth said, “Okay” my mind was thinking, “You lying fucking bitch, I have a letter from you saying precisely that you wanted to interfere with what we were doing”.
Nevertheless, Jeremy Chino-Chambrayshirt was clearly an advanced practioner of chin-scratching. I showed him this and explained that and answered a load of questions and each time he scratched his chin and said nothing other than “I see”. And then they went.
Within an hour the cars were back crowding out access and view to the drive.
Shazza and Stevie – what a pair of Twattocks.