Last week, my fellow writing students and I submitted our final project for our Masters. “Submitted and officially unemployed.” Poetry Ed texted me.
We tend to run on this petrol of nerves that we need to have an answer when someone asks us about our job, hobbies, and relationship status. When you’re doing a master’s, it’s fine, but after you submit your work, you are left wide open to the question, “So, what’s next?”
This brings me to my Dinner Party Theory.
And when I say dinner party, I mean this: you’ve been invited to your friend’s house for a dinner party (let’s call this friend Sally). Sally has one of those laughs that makes your spine curl up, but Sally has mastered homemade truffle chips…
So you accept the invitation.
Sally has invited a bunch of people who don’t know each other, and so it takes a glass of wine and a wedge of her sourdough bread to warm up the conversation. It’s at this point when the question will be asked, “So, what do you do?”
And I believe that the answer to this can categories the guests in 4 ways:
Guest A – the overly confident one with the nonjob – “Oh, I’m the regional manager of the Netherlands for Swatzy. It’s a watch. Haven’t you heard of Swatzy? That surprises me. Swatzy is an eco-watch which changes colour depending on the pollution. Swatzy ….(continues for 5 minutes).
Guest B – the modest one with the actual job – “Oh,” *looks at feet, * I’m a nurse. I work in the A&E department. Lives? Yeah…a couple.
Guest C – the one who’s had a breakdown and now looking for themselves – I worked in the media for fifteen years, grew a little tired of it, so now I’m about to go on a fine art course in Florence.
Guest D – the confident one with the actual job – nobody likes this person.
Once everyone is sorted into their categories, it’s easy to determine what each one will bring to the table .
Guest A will tell everyone about their planned trip to Mount Everest’s Base Camp. “So we have to have these specially made socks for the altitude. Some kind of special wool from an Asian sheep. Yeah. People have died because they haven’t had the right socks.”
Guest B will mention that their child has just started school, but nobody is listening to B.
C will explain meditation and how it’s helped them get over their anxiety.
And D has a wine certificate (a hobby of theirs that they have taken up in between their client’s lawsuits). They will demand that the table guess the tasting notes of the bottle they have brought along. “Can you taste oak? Oak anyone?” he/she/but probably he, will ask as he swirls the glass around with a deadpan face.
“Are you going to tell me that the wine has been poured from a tree?” a jealous Guest A will shout across the table.
Then Sally will laugh, your spine will curl, and you’ll wonder to yourself – are the truffle chips even worth it?
If my theory is correct, then Poetry Ed and I will slot into C, as there is nothing like a master’s in creative writing to alert the sirens, which is fine; anything is better than being D, after all.
THE QUACK 