To Retrain Or Not To Retrain, That Is The Question
In light of Rishi Sunak’s news that we all need to retrain, I too with a smug smile went online to do the government skills test. With a chuckle I prepared to write about how ridiculous it is that I have to bid undue farewell to literary fame and instead follow the much more lucrative pathway of an actor or boxer. Even though on a Friday night after a few pink gins I am no stranger to loving the limelight and being unduly aggressive if anyone wants to change the aux, when I saw the gov’s search results the humour dissipated. For on my browser appeared a veritable graveyard of possible lives that I just cannot live.
I think Rishi must have been anticipating spooky season, grabbed an eerie eyeball lollipop and an increasingly greying Boris (who looks like he’s taking to the Halloween makeup maybe a little too early) and watched Edward Scissorhands. From this he must have witnessed this skeletal man go from a gothic biscuit baking assistant to a steampunk hairdresser and decided the rest of the country should follow suit. Although I love the idea of taking to the hills and becoming a professional yodeller as much as the next Austrian, I do worry that there will be a glut of jobs in the creative sector. Job applications are, of course, an utter delight, and there is nothing I would rather be doing, but applying for jobs in a sector for which I have no qualifications seems a little too easy.
Donald Trump has already been at it, when it was revealed that the president had planned to emerge from hospital by bursting free of his shirt to reveal a superman top underneath. At least the man is trying to find a suitable role for his impending unemployment, but I do question his choices. Having failed at saving the free world, it seems highly illogical that he is now attempting to be Superman, saviour of … you catch my drift. It goes without saying that Trump is no Trudeau.
It did make me wonder, though. Cast your mind back to 3100 BC, slightly before Mark Zuckerberg touched down on earth, and Noah decides that actually, carpentry isn’t for him: “Sorry God, it doesn’t float my boat anymore. Starting a company selling vaginal eggs is just a lot more me”. If that had been the case, every animal of every species would have just had to swim for it. Although we would have had ancestors built like Adam Peaty, and an incredible (if useless) ability to tread water for millennia, I can imagine that would have been a pickle indeed. Particularly if the animals were expected to conserve enough energy to then mate at the other side – not very likely to be honest. The only benefit I can think of is that it would have made the application process to be on Noah’s Ark a lot less elitist. I heard rumours that all of the animals were a mixture of Noah’s nephews and Noah’s nephew’s friends – one of the first examples of nepotism recorded in human history.
On a similar note, if Ahab had decided fishing wasn’t for him, what would have become of the white whale? What would have become of Ishmael, aside from regretting roaming around with little or no money in his purse with no voyage of vengeance to spot a lift on. Maybe Ahab would have formed a paper mâché group, making increasingly formidable sculptures after losing his leg to a paper-pulping machine.
If Maria had decided after all to forgo her reputation for being a wave upon the sand and finished her studies, becoming a nun rather than governess and subsequent mother of the von Trapp family, the windows of the Von Trapp abode would not have been denuded of their curtains and Sound of Music tours would be awfully dismal.
If Jean Valjean hadn’t had stolen a loaf of bread, then we would have been saved Russell Crowe’s performance on top of the bridge in Bath. If Romeo had actually quite fancied Rosaline instead of casting her aside as a crow (which always felt a little too harsh) then Romeo & Rosaline would have a much happier ending and Friar Laurence would have been saved an eternity of sleepless nights.
What if - and you will have to go to great lengths to suspend your disbelief here - what if Kim Jong-un didn’t actually win the world cup?
What Rishi does not understand is that if all of these jobs had been lost, then the world would be a drastically unpleasant place - not least for a want of tragic theatre or cripplingly awkward solos. In truth not everyone wants their life to be measured out in code, just as T.S Eliot warned of measuring life in coffee spoons, or in my case, Facebook likes for my frantically written articles. To quote King Lear, ‘reason not the need’. If painting bespoke hand-whittled ladles is your dream then by all means milk that market until it’s dry, and perhaps save a couple for when Rishi starts his role as a chef at Wagamama.
If I do find myself having to begrudgingly follow Rishi’s advice, I’ve already made plans: I am to become a legendary cake designer. My first showpiece, wittily named ‘Quarantine Caramel’ will be three tiers: Tier 1, 2 and 3 - each of which become increasingly dry, and difficult to swallow. I will make sure though to sprinkle it with a bit of edible glitter and some fondant flowers, to distract from the gigantic mess underneath. Anyone for a first order?
Written by Esther Bancroft
A recent graduate of Bristol university, Esther has returned to the pen to write a little bit about a little bit of everything. When not staring at a screen trying to be creative, she likes to buy books without reading them and paint pictures of the sea - which is her healthy obsession.