So I was watching the Apprentice the other night, under the pretense of looking at good sales technique, but actually just finding amusement in the dearth of useless business garbage spouted by the majority of the contestants. Yes, admittedly there are occasionally two or three solid business minds in the melée of idiots who actually make it on to this programme, but what is most depressing is the attitude with which they approach the whole process.
I concede that a lot of the atmosphere and editing is formulated with the intention of creating a confrontational and conflicted atmosphere, but it just seems ridiculous that a supposedly intelligent self-made millionaire would choose to employ someone who starts throwing outrageous accusations around when they themselves failed to manufacture a sausage correctly. He surely would be much better off employing someone who is willing to accept that they have made mistakes and would be willing to move on? I would suggest that a variety of homeless people between the ages of 18-30 (provided that they were sober) would be able to put together a better business performance than these clowns who are already supposedly "leaders" in their field of business. melissa particularly made me question the calibre of these "successful" business people. How exactly did she succeed when she is completely incapable of working with others? Do us a favour Sir Allen, use these idiots for entertainment, but save the salary by employing none of them, and giving 100,000 to a worthy cause instead, rather than further inflating the egos of these useless business peacocks.
Friday, 5 November 2010
Thursday, 28 October 2010
Morning Excitement and Mechanic Clichés
Admittedly, this is almost immediately after I posted my original blog, but today actually yielded some food for thought, despite promising to be a pretty flat day.
So I began the day in the normal way, rolling and grunting, lashing out wildly towards my alarm clock until it stopped beeping, followed by a spell in the shower and a couple of near death experiences relating to a rogue bar of soap.
After finally leaving the house, I started my drive to my job, encountering the normal combination of morning shoppers, and learners who let their mothers book their lessons for them, as no 17 year old in their right mind even opens the curtains before 11am in half term. So after navigating my way through the madness and half asleep teenagers, I drove onto the motorway, only to experience what i assume is the car equivilant of the morning after a vindaloo and 8 pints of Cobra. So with white smoke pouring out of the back of my battered car, I pulled over to the side of the motorway, and started my wait for the roadside assistance by prick spotting. 4 in total, all on bluetooth headsets. Seriously kids, you arent 1. Maverick, 2. an extra in Star Trek, or 3, closing a sale in Japan for a multi-milion pound electronics deal, so why not wait until you actually get to work before you start pretending?
Once that got old, i decided to try and be useful and pop the hood and let the engine cool off, and attempt some amateur assessment of the damage. Bearing in mind the closest i've ever actually been to doing mechanical work was opening the bonnet of the car to allow my friend to pose on it, covered in charcoal and baby oil for his friend's cliché birthday calender. Yes it was weird and no, i didn't really want to drive the car afterwards. So once i'd reached the limits of my knowledge (only removing caps that had labels on them) I let the professionals take over.
The whole experience did start the germ of an idea though, maybe i could turn my hand to some amateur mechanics, the only issue being that any advice on the internet relating to golfs is where you can find a bodykit and huge alloys to further highlight the fact you're driving something you wish was a little bit more expensive. Maybe i'll actually visit a library for the first time the 3 years.
So I began the day in the normal way, rolling and grunting, lashing out wildly towards my alarm clock until it stopped beeping, followed by a spell in the shower and a couple of near death experiences relating to a rogue bar of soap.
After finally leaving the house, I started my drive to my job, encountering the normal combination of morning shoppers, and learners who let their mothers book their lessons for them, as no 17 year old in their right mind even opens the curtains before 11am in half term. So after navigating my way through the madness and half asleep teenagers, I drove onto the motorway, only to experience what i assume is the car equivilant of the morning after a vindaloo and 8 pints of Cobra. So with white smoke pouring out of the back of my battered car, I pulled over to the side of the motorway, and started my wait for the roadside assistance by prick spotting. 4 in total, all on bluetooth headsets. Seriously kids, you arent 1. Maverick, 2. an extra in Star Trek, or 3, closing a sale in Japan for a multi-milion pound electronics deal, so why not wait until you actually get to work before you start pretending?
Once that got old, i decided to try and be useful and pop the hood and let the engine cool off, and attempt some amateur assessment of the damage. Bearing in mind the closest i've ever actually been to doing mechanical work was opening the bonnet of the car to allow my friend to pose on it, covered in charcoal and baby oil for his friend's cliché birthday calender. Yes it was weird and no, i didn't really want to drive the car afterwards. So once i'd reached the limits of my knowledge (only removing caps that had labels on them) I let the professionals take over.
The whole experience did start the germ of an idea though, maybe i could turn my hand to some amateur mechanics, the only issue being that any advice on the internet relating to golfs is where you can find a bodykit and huge alloys to further highlight the fact you're driving something you wish was a little bit more expensive. Maybe i'll actually visit a library for the first time the 3 years.
In Limbo
So I suppose the purpose of this blog is to vocalise my experiences of being in the situation that im sure a lot of people are in at the moment, waiting after University to move on to that job that you want, or to go and study something else. I suppose some of us are fortunate enough to have instant gratification, moving on immediately into that job, Masters degree or another calling. Others decide that their aim is outside the graduate sphere and will go and fulfil that however they see fit. Myself, I am slightly in limbo, having agreed to work for a company yet waiting a year before I start the final stages of education before I assume my position.
This is a fortuitous position to be in, I know, yet somehow it has left me in a complete state of confusion. Rather than cherishing the free time, I find myself slightly bored and without a real focus. Having been in education for 16 years without a break, followed by a summer contract, suddenly I do not even find myself required to read a chapter of a textbook to function.
For the immediate 3 days following my temporary retirement from full time employment/education, i followed the standard procedure of diving into a world of computer games, lie-ins and junk food with DVDs, and trying to see as many of your mates as possible. Yet as I'm sure many of you know, this gets pretty tired very quickly when you live somewhere that considers someone sleeping on a bench an outrage and worthy village gossip. Clearly they've never met a student, having had friends who have slept half naked with a packet of chips outside Debenhams after a night out, I consider a bench a pretty comfortable place to rest yourself. After those few days had passed, and I had put down the TV remote, I found myself entertaining the craziest of ideas to give myself a project, something to achieve, which has been my general mode of function throughout my education. It is one of the strangest feelings to be aware that this is not a holiday in the classic sense, you are actually out in the real world, but without the need to find a career.
Thus I began my perilous decline into madness by removing the doors or my wardrobe with a screwdriver (taking a lead from my girlfriend's room expansion), and being quite proud of myself when i dumped the freshly removed doors in the hall, only to find that the sense of achievement at room expansion (Stage 1) is short lived. partially when you realise you aren't quite sure how to remove a plasterboard fitted wardrobe with the set of tools and undersized hammer you were bought when you were 11, and also by the spoken threat by a shocked and confused parent that if you dismantle any more of their house without paying a professional to do it, they will make sure that screwdriver never sees the light of day again.
So, with my internal Kevin mcCloud suitably repressed, I settled back in to my collection of DVD's searching for inspiration. Currently im considering building a flying metal suit with a pompous computer built in, or learning to fly a jet, wearing aviators and annoying Russians by taking photographs of them upside-down. Back to the drawing board then...
This is a fortuitous position to be in, I know, yet somehow it has left me in a complete state of confusion. Rather than cherishing the free time, I find myself slightly bored and without a real focus. Having been in education for 16 years without a break, followed by a summer contract, suddenly I do not even find myself required to read a chapter of a textbook to function.
For the immediate 3 days following my temporary retirement from full time employment/education, i followed the standard procedure of diving into a world of computer games, lie-ins and junk food with DVDs, and trying to see as many of your mates as possible. Yet as I'm sure many of you know, this gets pretty tired very quickly when you live somewhere that considers someone sleeping on a bench an outrage and worthy village gossip. Clearly they've never met a student, having had friends who have slept half naked with a packet of chips outside Debenhams after a night out, I consider a bench a pretty comfortable place to rest yourself. After those few days had passed, and I had put down the TV remote, I found myself entertaining the craziest of ideas to give myself a project, something to achieve, which has been my general mode of function throughout my education. It is one of the strangest feelings to be aware that this is not a holiday in the classic sense, you are actually out in the real world, but without the need to find a career.
Thus I began my perilous decline into madness by removing the doors or my wardrobe with a screwdriver (taking a lead from my girlfriend's room expansion), and being quite proud of myself when i dumped the freshly removed doors in the hall, only to find that the sense of achievement at room expansion (Stage 1) is short lived. partially when you realise you aren't quite sure how to remove a plasterboard fitted wardrobe with the set of tools and undersized hammer you were bought when you were 11, and also by the spoken threat by a shocked and confused parent that if you dismantle any more of their house without paying a professional to do it, they will make sure that screwdriver never sees the light of day again.
So, with my internal Kevin mcCloud suitably repressed, I settled back in to my collection of DVD's searching for inspiration. Currently im considering building a flying metal suit with a pompous computer built in, or learning to fly a jet, wearing aviators and annoying Russians by taking photographs of them upside-down. Back to the drawing board then...
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