21st Century Door-to-Door Salesman (part one of, in all probability, one)

Finally, someone answers a door. Rico launches into his pitch—“Hi, it’s nothing serious, I promise”—only to be cut off immediately. “Boy, what you talking about serious? Why you coming up here telling me it’s nothing serious?” I’m too far back along the walkway to see the speaker, but the voice is that of an elderly African Caribbean man; I suddenly become aware of reggae music playing quietly in the background.

It’s Rico’s first day, and he’s unprepared for this counter offensive. His mentor, Alan, has promised to step in if things go awry, but right now he’s almost doubled over with laughter. “What’s so funny? What you laughing about?” continues the disgruntled would-be customer. I glance at Rico’s face; his expression is grave. The fate of TalkTalk’s broadband package hangs in the balance.

***

It’s a cold, bright Thursday in March, and I’m attending a job interview for a company called Aspire Acquisitions. This is not an ordinary interview: it lasts for eight hours, during which time I will accompany an experienced salesperson and a trainee as they make their way around a block of flats in Islington, taking the gospel of TalkTalk to the heathens. Although I won’t be called on to do any sales work myself, I’m expected to look interested and to ask astute questions about the business, as well as answering occasional psychometric-style queries. (The first of these is “Explain what sets you apart you from all the other people being interviewed today.” After careful deliberation I announce that I’m an excellent walker.)

By way of motivation, I’ve been paired up with another interviewee, with whom I’ll be competing over the course of the day. His name is Ricardo, a handsome Business Administration graduate from São Paulo, looking for work to keep him going while he checks out masters courses. He’s an intimidating adversary, but his English is less than perfect, so I figure I can make him look stupid by peppering my speech with impenetrable idioms. Unfortunately, the only one that comes to mind is “It’s raining cats and dogs,” and the sky is the clearest I’ve seen it in months.

As the four of us make our way on foot from Aspire’s Old Street headquarters to our assigned patch, Alan expounds on the history of the company and the virtues of direct marketing. Despite having operated for only a few years, Aspire already has dozens of offices across the UK, and there are plans to open many more in the future. This furious rate of expansion is apparently due to the way the company is structured: anyone who wants to join the sales force has to start at the bottom and work up, spending half a year going door-to-door and living off commissions before progressing to a junior management role. No one gets to tread water, and there’s a constant influx of new recruits.

Alan also explains, with only a hint of schadenfreude, how the Credit Crunch worked out in the company’s favour. The recession encouraged businesses to tighten their marketing budgets, but this mainly affected more expensive indirect-marketing methods, such as television and radio advertisements; direct-marketing offers a higher rate of return—particularly when you don’t pay your salespeople a regular wage—so Aspire was able to keep hold of its accounts, even taking on more work in some cases.

Impressive as all of this is, I can’t help but feel a gulf opening up between Alan and me. Does he really care about any of this stuff, or is it all just bluster, designed to impress wide-eyed job seekers looking for a career that can really take them somewhere? A low-slung Lamborghini speeds past, and Rico whistles in admiration. “I didn’t know you could get them in this country,” he says. I try to simulate enthusiasm, but I’m no more interested in sports cars than I am in milk floats, or direct-marketing for that matter.

***

We finally arrive at our destination, and Ricardo and I get our first taste of door-to-door selling. Problem number one: how do we access the building? Blocks of flats are usually easier to work than houses, since the occupants live in closer proximity to one another, but the building we’ve been assigned to today is a labyrinth of courtyards and security doors; just getting past the first of these doors involves cold-calling three numbers at random, and the procedure needs to be repeated for each subsequent floor. On top of that, the doorbells ring for a minute at a time, so we spend long periods standing around in dank stairwells while an eerie electric tone wails in the background. It’s a little like being caught in a low-budget 1970s horror movie in which the monster never appears—or maybe it was society, all along.

Fortunately, Alan is an old hand at this. When he gets someone on the other end of the intercom, he makes sure not to mention that he’s selling something; instead, he tells them that the local telephone exchange has been updated and he’s here to explain changes in the service. To my amazement, this invariably works. Even if he can’t get an answer—it’s the middle of the day when we start, after all—it’s only a matter of waiting for someone to enter or exit the building; few people will go out of their way to keep a group of strangers off the premises. At one point, a man even throws us his keys so that we can let his wife through the door while she struggles with an armful of shopping bags; Alan thanks him and smiles at the rest of us—another successful infiltration.

The actual business of going from door to door is surprisingly interesting, at least for a few hours. Most people are out during the day, but we still get to meet a varied cross-section of the population, ranging from an elderly woman who seems to have only a vague grasp of what the Internet is, to a handsome young man who invites us in and discusses rival broadband packages at length. This constitutes my first experience of entering a stranger’s home for professional reasons, and I feel distinctly uncomfortable throughout. Alan, by contrast, is completely at ease; it helps that he’s done this hundreds of times before, but the real difference is that he has a purpose, a pitch to make, while I’m just a sullen interloper, trying to smile politely whenever the occupant catches my eye, and jumping at every chance to murmur in agreement or utter a bland pleasantry.

As the conversation progresses, I begin to get the impression that our host is gay—he makes repeated references to his “partner” without ever giving a name—and I start to wonder how my associates will react to this. You won’t go far in sales if you refuse to sell to people, of course, but I still feel anxious for a few minutes. In the end, Alan breaks the tension by deploying a masculine pronoun; I’m temporarily terrified that my hunch was wrong, and that the young man will get angry and drive us out with a broom, but the moment passes without comment. No one here is afraid of gay people, it turns out, with the possible exception of me.

On the Elimination of Religious Language

For the eliminative materialists, metaphysical accounts of mental phenomena are no more meaningful than talk of phlogiston and the four humors, or the idea that the sun orbits the earth. Once science manages to produce a detailed explanation of how the brain works--how physical changes relate to sensations and behaviour--words such as 'soul' and 'belief' will cease to have any purchase; the myth of the human mind will have reached its end.

But what to do in the meantime? Some eliminative materialists advocate a programme of lexical attrition: since metaphysical concepts are fictions with no basis in the physical world, the elimination of the vocabulary that supports them must result in the elimination of the ideas themselves. Without the word 'witch,' an old woman in black is just an old woman in black; without the word 'God', the sky is just an empty expanse of blue.

Needless to say, few people endorse this methodology. But what if there were another way to achieve the same effect? What if instead of removing 'misleading' expressions, one were to subtly redefine them? To remap them to physical phenomena?

This is the thinking behind Christian Rhyming Slang, an experimental project that aims to put the unique language of Christian worship to everyday use. 'Pope in Rome' becomes 'home,' so that one might say 'You have a beautiful pope' or 'ET phone pope.' 'Papal Decree' becomes 'key,' leading to such phrases as 'Can you give me the car papal? I think I left a carton of milk in the boot.' 'Church' becomes '(birch) tree,' as in 'I found two sturdy churches and slung a hammock between them' and 'Last night lightning struck the church outside my bedroom window, splitting it in twain.'

These phrases are fun to use, and come easily to anyone familiar with existing rhyming slang! So why not get started today? Call 02075 821 750 to order your copy of The Christian Rhyming Slang Handbook--the first 50 callers will receive a free instructional video starring Gary Kemp!

With your help, religious thought could be eliminated tomorrow. So don't delay; get slanging straight away! Admiral Ackbar!

Top Tips for Aspiring Writers

The Guardian has just run an article in which various established writers offer advice to newbies. Here is my contribution (which they decided not to use; apparently my work is a little too outre for their readers!).

1. Never, ever use adverbs. Consider the following: “Caspar ran quickly along the trench, leaping over the myriad torn and twisted bodies of his former comrades. One man, ripped almost in half by shrapnel but clinging obstinately to the lingering seconds of his life, flailed at Casper’s leg; Casper aimed a kick at the man’s chin, delivering it with such force that head and neck parted company. ‘You’ll pay for this, Caspar!’ wailed the detached skull as it span through the air. ‘I will have my re--’ the curse was cut short by a sniper’s bullet, which finished the work that the artillery bombardment and Casper’s boot had begun, sending ribbons of viscera flying in all directions. A stray eyeball struck Casper in the eye, blinding him. ‘Ah!’ he cried. Then he brightened up. ‘Well, I guess I had that coming.’” As you can see, the adverbs (“quickly” and “obstinately”) provide the reader with no useful information; they are ballast, keeping the prose from taking flight. Shed them!

2. Try not to tell the reader more than he needs to know: “Michelle opened her purse, a brown Dolce & Gabbana flap-over that her mother had bought for her two years before as a reward for completing a degree in Advertising and Media at the University of Suffolk, and removed the Emerald of Ptarnok, which was covered in lint.”

Conversely, don’t forget to include crucial information: “Oliver tiptoed along the corridor, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to alert the guards. Unfortunately, he walked right into one of them. ‘Ha!’ cried the man. ‘Back to the gaol with you, boy!’” (Question: why didn't Oliver see the guard? Answer: because he's blind.)

3. Writers write; non-writers do not write. Writing 101.

4. If you’ve never read a book and don’t intend to, don’t bother trying to become a writer. Unless you’re already famous or have interesting ideas, in which case all this advice is irrelevant.

Unreasonable Job Requirements

German speaking Appeals Administrator with Italian
Location City Of London, London
Salary £8.00 - £9.00 per hour
Date 15 Feb
German speaking Appeals Administrator with fluent Italian Reference: 553739 Salary: £8.84 inclusive of accrued holiday £7.89 (£0.95)

Did you grow up always on the move? Perhaps your parents were renegade intellectuals from East Berlin, who inculcated you with a deep belief in the power of ideas? Can you speak at least three languages? Earn £8+ per hour!

Office Assistant with French
Location London, South East England
Salary £17,000 - £18,000 per annum
Date 15 Feb
Our client is looking for a highly capable and charismatic Office Assistant to hire in their London (UK) Games Development Studio. DUTIES Your primary responsibilities will be: •Face/Voice of the company to welcome all visitors to the office and answer all incoming calls •Assisting the Offi...

Wanted: French-speaking demagogue to answer phones and order office supplies. Uncommon beauty a bonus.

On Learnin'

It's amazing how a little education can upset your productivity. Since I started a new Open University course (Philosophy and the Human Condition) last week I've been put off attempting to write fiction; how can someone as ignorant as I am presume to educate the masses? Such hubris!

My intellectual shortcomings have been comprehensively exposed. Isaiah Berlin's notions of "negative" and "positive" liberty are one thing, but when Gerald MacCallum gets up and starts trying to simplify things I totally lose the thread. This may be partially the result of his tortuous prose, behold:

"But a reason for this especially worth noting at the start is that disputes about the nature of freedom are certainly historically best understood as a series of attempts by parties opposing each other on very many issues to capture for their own side the favorable attitudes attaching to the notion of freedom."

Let's see if we can pare that down a little. By taking out the superfluous clauses and qualifiers, for example.

"But a reason for this is that disputes about the nature of freedom are best understood as a series of attempts by opposing parties to capture the favorable attitudes attaching to the notion of freedom."

Better? Well, why not go further? Why not extract the actual meaning of the sentence and just write that?

"Most disputes about the nature of freedom are just attempts by the parties involved to claim its favorable associations for themselves."

Better still, let's write it as an epigram.

"Beware those who talk always of freedom; their chatter masks the rattle of the jailer's keys."

There you go, Gerald. You should have been a poet.

Ideas for the Title of an Avatar Review

Hey Guys, Don’t Be Blue; Your Battle to Protect Your Tree House from Helicopters Is the Most Powerful Allegory of Colonialism Ever Committed to Celluloid

James "No, No, No; the Wings Should Be Oranger" Cameron Confirms Status as Hollywood's No.1 Micro-Manager

Oh Brave New World, That Has Such Blue People in It

Why Isn't This Movie Better Than Terminator Salvation?

My Recent Wikipedia Searches

admission of women to ivy league
christopher isherwood
drilling blasting
gore vidal
pierre bayard
right-angled sofa
sophocles

Who am I?

AVATAR!

"You [Armond White] are insane. If there is anyone out there that does not see this movie because of your absurd review I feel sorry for them. Why not be honest and review the MOVIE for what it is.....an incredible sensory journey that brings you literally inside this movie for the entire time you are on Pandora. It's the best movie I have ever seen." (My italics.)

"How I Get Dressed" by Little Boots

!

Microsoft Nazi Alert

Microsoft Works does not recognise the word "klezmer." Evidence of Bill Gates's antisemitism? I couldn't possibly say, but tell me this: why is it that his Wikipedia page doesn't feature a single instance of the words "Jew" and "Jewish?" Odessa strikes again!

Confusing Definitions

Is it just me, or is the first of these definitions poorly phrased?

The Escapist Forums

Why on earth do I do it? Why do I return, again and again, to the forums of The Escapist? What possible profit can there be in this endeavour? What gain? Gah.

"Favorite Legendary Pokemon

I've seen plenty of 'favorite pokemon' threads, but the search bar revealed that this one hasn't been covered. I know 'favorite' threads are pretty tired, but I enjoy hearing people's opinions and justifications, so here goes.

I have two.

Lugia: The first time I saw the cover for Pokemon Silver, which was a while before it came out (mind you I was like 8 or 9), Lugia blew my mind, it was the coolest shit ever. Then he was awesome in the game, and then I saw the second movie and he pretty much owned everything. He might actually be my favorite pokemon period.

Groudon: Three words. Solarbeam. Without. Charging."

This individual is clearly literate and self-aware (when it comes to forum etiquette, anyway), so what's gone wrong? Why has he/she chosen to invest time not only in playing Pokemon but in discussing it, too? And how have I ended up reading it? Writing about it? Inanity upon inanity.

Jack Rose, RIP

This is a man I met twice, maybe three times. I remember him like this: roaring at the noisy English crowd who'd just talked through a set by his friend and touring partner Glenn Jones. "Shut up, you fucking limeys!" he shouted, to scattered applause. Then he sat down and played the most furious set of instrumental, solo-guitar folk music I've ever heard. Could anyone in attendance that night have claimed otherwise? I suspect not.

Towards the end of the first or second song he broke a string, and had to switch to his spare instrument. This was a large 12 string, and it was hopelessly out of tune; after grappling with the pegs for a couple of minutes he gave up and embarked on a lengthy atonal improvisation. The crowd, who had quietened down after his initial harangue, had grown noisy again, and the few keen listeners drew in close around the stage. My memory of the music has long since decayed, but I remember the intensity of the experience, and the sense of camraderie within that impromptu semicircle of unfamiliar bodies.

Over the subsequent five years I saw him play twice more, and on each of those occasions he was thoroughly amiable, both in performance and conversation. Of course, his playing was always vital and propulsive, but there was more of a meditative quality to it (both concerts took place in candlelit churches), and when the atmosphere became too charged he'd break out a ragtime tune and charm the audience all over again.

I will remember him like this, also: a large, unkempt man sitting cross-legged on the floor among many CDs-for-sale; tired from his labours, but making gracious small talk with acquaintances and admirers. He'd finally begun to receive recognition commensurate with his talents; hostile and indifferent audiences were a thing of the past.

Rest in Peace, Jack Rose.

Everything Is Going to Be Okay from Now

Breasts in videogames, courtesy of some Germans.

I'm trying to think of my favourite pair of videogame breasts; it's a tough call. In retrospect, I think they may all have been bad.

Baby Jamz, featuring Solange Knowles

Check it out on Spotify! (Note the sinister bass line on "The Wheels on the Bus," which mocks the overlying harmony like a kid eating doughnuts outside the window of a Weight Watchers club. A kid with a very low voice.)

A Charitable House Call

I’m watching some of the oddest porn in the history of human civilisation. Skinny Boy is a virgin at 21 and he’s emailed Porn Starlet asking her to divest him of his shame. She, oddly enough, has agreed. So after a bizarre introduction in which he performs various sex-themed exercises (blowing up a sex doll, putting on condoms…press-ups) the two of them get down to it. Which entails about 10 minutes of her trying to get his camera-shy cock hard in absolute, eerie silence.

She finally gives up on actually touching him and resorts to having him masturbate while she sits with her legs open by his side, affording him a downright gynaecological view of her genitalia. The strangest part is that the camera doesn’t mimic his perspective; you just get a shot of her right leg and his embarrassed face peeking at the secret, sexy treasure behind it.

Eventually Skinny Boy achieves something in the order of an erection; he enters Porn Starlet; he exits; he comes on her face. “Woo!” she cries. “You did it!” The camera pulls back to show him kneeling naked over her. “I did it,” he lamely echoes. Then they’re lying side by side and he’s delivering a stilted message of thanks. Then he's wading fully clothed into the sea. No shit.

The Unbelieving Chestnut

After all these years, I've finally found someone who communicates Biblical teaching in a way I find compelling. Without further ado, let me introduce the number #1 Christian apologist of YouTube: Christian Road Warrior. Thank God.

Silliest and Best

Friends, rejoice: Muse’s “leaked” song from their forthcoming album, The Resistance, has finally been found. “United States of Eurasia” was released in the form of six USB sticks, which were distributed around the world for obsessive fans to track down. The finished article, now available on YouTube, is every bit as grandiose as we’ve come to expect from England’s foremost apocalyptic glam-rock trio. It also playfully invokes the band’s influences through some pretty explicit musical quotations. There’s the harmonious crescendo from Queen’s “We Are the Champions,” the imperious brass theme from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (“The Slave Children’s Crusade”) and, finally, a neat rendition of Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat Major.” And those are just the ones I identified on my first listen.

Full disclosure: I was an obsessive Muse fan myself, back in the early years of this millennium (when I was 16/17, you know). But, as my tastes matured, I came to regard the band as a horrifying embarrassment—they became a symptom of a teenage identity I wanted badly to leave behind: angsty, histrionic, effete…hell, take any word that’s used to malign society’s most idiotic age-group; that’s Muse to a T.*

And yet, as more time has passed, I’ve developed a sort of sneaking appreciation of the band. As they’ve become more overtly kitschy and silly, so has it become easier to like them; just check out the kung-fu, sci-fi, spaghetti western (not just western; spaghetti western) video for “Knights of Cydonia.” That’s some truly sublime nonsense, particularly the slapping-to-passionate-lovemaking sequence, which I think is just about the neatest little send-up of cinematic sexual politics you’ll find in any music video. (Not to mention, oh God, the unicorn money-shot!)

It’s true that they’re best in small doses, but that’s true of all kinds of good things: recreational drugs, pornography, sugar, giving blood…you name it. So I’m actually kind of looking forward to The Resistance, particularly as it apparently boasts some overblown orchestral arrangements. I won’t pay for it, mind. Now that would be embarrassing.

*Samples from Muse’s AllMusic “moods” list: dramatic, paranoid, brooding, volatile, angst-ridden, aggressive.

Set radar to "hairy"

"Think I can handle that animal in the sack?" asks Britney Spears in her new video, "Radar," as a horse is sprayed with water. (But Britney, it isn't in a sack!) It's not all sexy visual puns though: there's a cunning subversion of pop-video conventions at play!

Britney is the partner of a fabulously rich man, who is handsome and clean shaven and has short hair (more of which later). One day, as she is walking through the ol' mansion, she catches sight of another man, who is handsome and stubbly and has long hair. Allow me to draw this dichotomy more clearly:

• Man #1 = handsome, clean shaven, short hair, wears a suit.
  
• Man #2 = handsome, stubbly, long hair, wears a vest.

Naturally, Britney immediately falls for Man #2. She eyes him up coquettishly and sings suggestive lyrics (viz. "animal in the sack"). It's a perfectly neat setting up of pop-video convention number 36: rich person is attracted to poor person and ultimately spurns material wealth for love.

However! Things are not as they seem! Britney takes to the balcony of her home in order to spy on her prospective paramour with binoculars. What is he doing? Is he a gardner, hunkily pruning roses? Is he cleaning the pool? No! He's playing fucking polo! He's rich too!

And with that, the last remaining flakes of Judeo-Christian ethics are brushed from the shoulder of Western Civilisation's pristine dinner jacket, lest they deter the laydeez. Britney hooks up with Man #2, who is now besuited himself, and heads into the sunset. Curiously, she leaves her diamond necklace, a gift from Man #1, behind her; is there an anti-materialist message after all? Did the director, seeing that the fairytale wasn't as magical as had been intended, insert this shot to preserve the ideal of a love that transcends economics and social distinctions? No, the necklace clearly just fell off while Britney was canoodling. If you buy the single, you'll be able to watch bonus footage of her going back to collect it.

Pride and Prejudice and Paradigms in Modern Publishing

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is set for a sequel: Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters.

Apparently the literary-classic-plus-monsters model is getting to be a Big Thing, with Queen Victoria: Demon Hunter and I am Scrooge: A Zombie Story for Christmas set for release this autumn. However, Quirk Books, the publishers of P&P&Z, are keen to emphasise that they won't just be cashing in with more zombified mash-ups; they're rather more ambitious than that.

"I think Pride and Prejudice and Zombies fans are counting on us to deliver something original, and I don't think they will be disappointed," says editorial director Jason Rekulak, as though changing the type of monster were a bona fide act of literary innovation. It's a pretty sad state of affairs when not putting zombies in a book is a path-breaking publishing strategy.