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The click of Helen’s key in the lock was Alex’s signal to jump up and hit Play on the CD player in the corner of the living room. It was practically an antique, but given his landlady’s freakishly frugal lifestyle he decided to count himself lucky he wasn’t having to fire up the gramophone. The distinctive strains of ‘Eye of the Tiger’ blared out.
‘What the ...?’ Helen stood in the doorway and surveyed the scene in front of her. In addition to the music there were a few decorative changes to the room, most of which had involved Alex printing out motivational slogans from the internet and blu-tacking them to the walls. There was also the flip chart in pride of place in front of the fireplace.
‘Where did you get that?’
Alex considered answering and decided against. She’d find out next time she had to teach in the small seminar room off the main departmental corridor. ‘Come in. Come in.’ He ran forward and grabbed her hand, dragging her into the room.
‘What’s going on?’
‘This is “Operation Get Helen That Job” headquarters!’
She peered more closely around the room. ‘Why does it say “You’re all woman!” above the TV?’
‘It’s inspirational.’
‘How?’
Alex shrugged. ‘It was on a website of inspirational sayings.’
‘But you’re not all woman.’
He sighed. ‘It’s not aimed at me.’
‘What does “Be your own cheerleader” mean?’
‘It means that you’re allowed to big yourself up a bit.’
Helen looked bemused.
‘That’s not really the point. Look. Sit down.’
Helen did as she was instructed and took a seat on the couch.
‘As I was trying to explain, this is now the official headquarters for Operation Get Helen That Job.’ He turned over the first page of the flip chart to reveal a cartoon of Helen in full academic dress surrounded by the trappings of her new found wealth. There were dollar signs, and a bright red convertible. Across the bottom was another inspirational slogan: ‘Visualise your success.’
‘Did you draw that?’
Alex nodded.
Helen laughed. ‘You have too much free time. And I don’t really want a flash car.’
‘I know.’ Alex looked at the drawing. To be fair he might have done a better job of visualising Helen’s dreams if she had dreams that extended beyond buying a new cardigan. He handed Helen a pile of A4 papers. ‘Here we have job description, person specification and a copy of the job ad. The sections highlighted in yellow are where we have weaknesses to tackle.’
He gave Helen a second to catch up on her reading. ‘You’ve highlighted outgoing.’
‘I have.’
‘I’m outgoing.’
‘When’s the last time you went out?’ Helen opened her mouth. ‘Work doesn’t count.’
‘That isn’t what it means. It means your personality, for networking and stuff.’
Alex nodded. ‘I know, and you are not a sociable animal. We need to work on that.’ He carried on talking before she could issue any further objections. ‘The situation is as follows ...’ He turned a page on the flip chart to reveal a sheet he’d written up in advance and talked her through the numbered points. ‘One – you need to earn more money. Two – you’re not prepared to move to a different area to do this, because of your ridiculous infatuation with Professor Collins. Three – that basically means you have to get this job, because if you don’t it’ll probably be another ten years before another one comes along. Do you concur?’
Helen nodded mutely.
‘Good. Then we move onto the action plan.’ Alex turned to another prepared flip chart sheet. ‘In addition to the obvious stuff, like filling in the application form, there are four prongs to our approach. One – interview practice. Two – Dominic Collins. Three – the Community Dig weekend, and finally, four – what on earth are you going to wear?’
‘What about Dominic?’
Alex sighed. So predictable. ‘You need to ask for his help.’
‘With what?’
‘To put in a good word. You’re friends, aren’t you? You need to make the old boy’s network work for you.’
‘You’re asking me to collaborate with the methods of the male elite.’
‘Yep.’
She opened her mouth to object.
‘We got a red notice for the phone bill this morning. I added it to the pile.’ Alex pointed towards the growing mound of final demands, balanced next to the TV. ‘You can’t afford principles, I’m afraid.’
Helen nodded uncertainly. ‘What’s the Community Dig?’
Alex grabbed another piece of paper from the coffee table. It was a flyer for the university’s community archaeology day. ‘They need volunteers to help. It’ll show that you’re a team player.’
‘It’ll be outside.’ Helen pulled a face. ‘With mud, and weather, and outside things.’
‘And every other hourly-paid lecturer in the department will be there, in their brand new waterproofs wielding specially purchased tiny trowels desperate to make a good impression. That means you have to be there too.’
She looked over the flip chart again. ‘I do not need help picking an outfit though.’
Alex sighed. ‘Yeah. You do.’
She stuck out her chin. ‘I’m sure they’re going to be appointing based on suitability for the post, not on fashion choices.’
If Alex left her to her own devices she’d probably turn up at the interview in something beige with holes in the elbows. ‘You don’t have to do the full power dressing thing, but Homeless Crazy Lady isn’t a good look for a job interview.’
Helen furrowed her brow but didn’t argue. She glanced around the room at the massed products of Alex’s endeavours. ‘What were you supposed to be doing today?’
Alex looked at his feet. ‘Going to the library.’
Helen laughed. ‘Well I suppose your procrastination on my behalf is appreciated.’
He grinned. ‘I don’t have much choice. My mother told me that if I messed up living with you she was disowning me.’
‘Are you sure you’re not going to apply?’
He shrugged. ‘They want a modernist. I told you. Anyway, it’s a ...’ Alex dropped his voice down to a horrified whisper. ‘... permanent job. Not my scene at all.’
The house phone rang, from three different points around the house. Helen pulled herself off the sofa and went to the dining room to answer the oldest and cheapest of the three phones; the basic, physically-plugged-into-the-wall model that actually worked. Alex flicked back to the cartoon he’d drawn on the flip chart. The basic outline was good, but it needed more soul somehow. He reread the caption. Visualise your success. He turned the page.