Roles and responsibilities 

As soon as Andy walked in the office, he knew there was going to be trouble. It wasn’t so much that Sarah was hunched over her desk with an unhealthy looking sheen on her face, but more the luminous green glow permeating the ceiling above her.

Andy backed towards the door. How many ‘duvet days’ had he banked? Perhaps he could work off-site for a while, at least until someone else showed up. Breakout?

Just then Leanne clocked him.

“Oh, hi Andy. Do you know what’s happening with this?” she asked, gesturing towards the ceiling. “I’m supposed to be interviewing clients today. It’s not a great look.”

“Sure,” said Andy, nodding emphatically. “Obviously, it’s not something I’m able to deal with. Have you reported it to anyone?”

Leanne blinked rapidly. “I’ve got enquiries coming out of my ears.”

Sure you have, thought Andy. There’s plenty of space between them, after all.

Andy switched on his computer  and glanced at the clock. 9.15. Surely someone else would be in soon.

“Any idea what started it?”

“No. Well, there was a bang on the roof earlier. I thought it was probably one of those mental seagulls doing a kamikaze.” Leanne gave a screech and looked over at Sarah, but her glazed eyes didn’t appear to register anything.

Andy was watching the loading symbol circling round and round when Sarah’s head hit the desk. Meanwhile, the green glow took on a deeper colour and the wall began to droop like an undercooked pizza.

“Oh my god!” yelped Leanne. “What the hell’s going on? “

“I’m still waiting for it to log on,”replied Andy, spreading his fingers in earnest.

“Surely, there’s a procedure for this kind of thing, isn’t there?”

“You’d think so.”

Andy felt the sweat bead at his forehead. Was there? It wasn’t like anybody actually read the paperwork.

The computer uttered a soft tone and the desktop finally appeared. Andy pulled his seat in.

“I’ll email head office.”

There was a crack followed by a shower of plaster as the ceiling came down around Sarah’s desk. Through the hole Andy could see the edge of what looked like a spaceship. Beside it stood a dark grey figure holding a weapon that was firing out luminous green rays.

Leanne waved her hand about at the dust. “This is outrageous! How can they expect me to work in these conditions?”

“I know, it’s unbelievable,” agreed Andy. “I’ll copy in all managers. There’s been no training for this whatsoever.”

The door opened. Tracey walked in.

“Hi everyone, how are…oh my god!”

“Tracey!” said Andy. “You’ve been on the first aid course, haven’t you?”

Tracey flinched. “Er, yeah, but…I mean…we weren’t trained how to deal with…this.”

“We appreciate that,” said Andy, catching Leanne’s eye, “but as you can see, this is quite serious. If you’re able to do something…”

“Have you called the emergency services?”

“I’m up to my eyeballs.”

“Surely, we need to call them?”

“Okay, do you want to do it? Obviously, you’re more qualified than I am.”

Tracy’s eyes narrowed. “I haven’t been here so I don’t know what’s going on. It’s better if you call.”

“I’m going to take flexi,” announced Leanne, packing up her things. “What are they going to do – fire me?” As she stood up, the alien fired at Leanne and she collapsed to the floor.

Andy picked up the phone and dialled 999.

“Hello, which service do you require?”

“Er, well, I’m not sure.”

“Okay, what’s happened?”

Well…it looks like we’re being attacked by aliens.”

There was a pause. “Right, well I can send all three, but just so you’re aware, there is now a charge for any unnecessary callout in line with recent policy changes.”

“Oh.” Andy rapped his fingers on the desk. “Let me call you back.”

“What did they say?” asked Tracey.

“There could be charges involved.” Andy sat back in his chair. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be responsible for incurring extra costs. Surely, that’s for management to decide.”

“Yep, absolutely,” agreed Tracey.

Andy began tapping away at the keyboard. “Dear all, we had an incident today in which I was required…”

The alien swept it’s ray gun across the office, this time towards Andy. On any other day he might have been worried, but there was nothing in his job description about dealing with alien invasions. That was one document he had been sure to read. Clearly, someone was going to get in the neck and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be him.

Are you creative?

I’ve been on the hunt for jobs lately and have found myself amused, frustrated and straight-up perplexed by a few ads I’ve come across. In particular, the controversially named ‘creative’ positions (which generally amount to advertising roles, but worded in incredibly flamboyant ways). In my view, these are an insult to genuinely creative people who produce work of artistic merit or expression. They also talk a lot of bollocks.

In response, I decided to write my own job ad. I hope it will entertain others who are in a similar position and provide some light relief from the weird (and sometimes pretentious) world of job searching.

Happy new year!


 

Hi!

Are you a creative genius with a surgical eye for detail, sickly amounts of enthusiasm, doesn’t know tired, a smile carved onto your face, leaper not a jumper, amazing at numbers and everybody’s friend, with at least 5 years experience working in Photoshop, InDesign, Illustrator, Powerpoint, Excel, felt tip pens, international politics and subterfuge?

Then you might have what it takes!

Here at Amazing Incredible, we don’t do things by half, we do them by a whole and a half!

You might also have noticed (because of your eye for detail – if you didn’t then you’re already fired) that we love to use exclamation marks! That’s because everything we do is amazing (and incredible)!

We work with the world’s top brands (even though every other company says that) to make their wildest dreams come true (we produce ads). But more than that, we strive to make sure everything we do for our clients is so eye-wateringly spectacular that they actually leave us with tears in their eyes. After all, we want people to be in love us, not just pay us.

The Good Stuff

– Free grilled quinoa on toast every morning, a pint of coffee and sourdough macaroons

– Tricycle racing around our own purpose built track on the roof (with incredible views of everything cool)

– An office orangutan to hang out with on your lunch break

– bouncy balls

– knitting

What we ask in return

  • You’ll be bold first of all, preferably have a beard, possess bombastic design skills, brave, bouncing with energy (did we mention beard?) and love other great-sounding words beginning with B!
  • You must be a team player, but also work fine on your own, be consistent yet adaptable, bleed creativity and also be hyper-numeric; in other words, an extremely conflicted individual!
  • You will literally shit ideas.

Pay

Who cares when we’re such an extraordinarily fabulous company to work for?

Benefits

10% off beard combs from John Lewis

Free Friday drinks at Wanko’s Gin and Sourdough Pizza Bar

Stupid games to play (because Google do stuff like that, don’t they?)

More coffee!

If, after reading this, you’re not feeling physically sick or experiencing the shakes, send us an email at howdypartner@ai.com telling us how you would keep the fires of creativity burning from atop the gleaming spire of our brand-building beacon.

There’s always one

We don’t see you, at least not yet, as feet take up focus on the treacherous cobbles. Then comes that bottleneck bridge where cycle, car and person all jostle to cross the glistening dockside.

Suddenly, there you are.

Llike a derelict patch, a glitch in the cultural landscape that causes us all to double take.

We turn heads, look up from lattes, falter in our pre-work chatter. It’s not right, that’s a given. Something needs to be done.

If you’re still there tomorrow, we’ll be sure to think it again.

The morning crowd

A short-short about the early morning grind.

The stars gaze down at me, merciless and piercing. ‘What the hell are you doing up?” they say. “We haven’t finished our shift yet.’

Don’t I know it, I think back at them, and squint through the damp at the orange readout. 15 minutes.

A schoolboy type is standing there, collar and shoes beneath an anorak. He half-turns at my arrival, letting his peripheral do the work. Probably wondering if it’s still early enough for weirdos.

Another passenger arrives, shorter, rougher. He occupies himself with a tangle of headphones before the guitar riffs of Hotel California fill his ears. 9 minutes.

A girl in a fur-lined hood makes us four and we drill the empty road with our willpower. It conjures up nothing. Then the readout resets itself and suddenly its 2 minutes. Anticipation sets in.

When the bus finally arrives, we stumble on in single file, the driver as grim as the hour. Upstairs is all two-day stubble, black woolly hats and jackets up to the chin. I fit right in.

We lurch away and my eyes wander to finger marks, smeared across the window from the night before. Behind them, shop fronts float by, the night shift workers silhouetted against pale lighting while they mingle with lorry drivers. Up the front of the bus, the glow of brake lights is like a furnace, stoked by offerings from the daily grind.

Then a few stops along, he appears. Something about his demeanour isn’t right. His movements are too energetic and he’s blabbering away on the phone like its Friday afternoon.

Groans pass along the deck as he takes a seat. I get to work, fixing him with my best glare while others turn their heads and throw a mean glance, but he appears invulnerable. Even Hotel California has noticed from two seats back as he removes his headphones and stares incredulously at the back of the man’s neatly cropped hair. He clocks me and we shake heads in unison.

Then a lad with 5am eyes glaring out of a grey hood launches across the aisle and lamps the guy on the chin. A chorus of approval erupts from the passengers. The man recoils in his seat, before scurrying down the stairs and we all press our faces to the windows to see his freshly-pressed figure disappear into the black of the morning. 5am eyes flashes a murky grin while the driver gives it a couple of hoots. The rest of us look around at each other, snarling with satisfaction. That one needed nipping in the bud.