Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Love in the time of Recession.
Whoever said the recession won’t hit the Ivy Leagues had no idea what they were talking about. It crept into duvets and sleeves, through ill-fitted windows and made its way into cheery little seminars on saving the world from itself. So we sat for long hours and filled out online forms and wrote a tailored cover letter to each firm. They all seemed to want a reason to reject you so you did your best to not give one. When they asked why this firm, you told them there was something really special about how they married technology and consulting, human resources and consulting, banana split and ape shit. You make buildings out of conversation. When they asked why this area of work you pretend you’re not overqualified but they know you are so they say no. They tell you there isn’t enough numbers in you.
When he turns up at your door at one at night, you tell him no and that you’re busy. The flowers wait on the table for some water and then die there. You hope someone will make them disappear. You sit through numerical tests and logical tests and verbal reasoning tests. He waits with a midnight cigarette. You give interview upon interview and wait for the rejections to dole out like dominos. They always come, as does he. You ignore both.
He buys perfume he knows you can’t resist. He licks off revenue figures from your ribs. You tell yourself he can wait because you worked all your life for the rest of this and it’d be such a shame to lose it all now when you can get it all. There’s a string of defaults, first people can’t pay, then banks can’t pay, then governments can’t pay. You cry for Lehman, then Greece, then Europe. The world around you collapses and you hope that they’ll save Europe, though they didn’t save Lehman. But countries are not banks and the same rules don’t apply.
The same rules don’t apply.
As the sun sets, the Euro zone is still there, but he isn’t.
Be afraid to blink, sometimes
People are moments and moments pass.