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The collected opinions of an august and aristocratic personage who, despite her body having succumbed to the ravages of time, yet retains the keen intellect, mordant wit and utter want of tact for which she was so universally lauded in her younger days. Being of a generation unequal to the mysterious demands of the computing device, Lady Bracknell relies on the good offices of her Editor for assistance with the technological aspects of her journal.

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Location: Bracknell Towers

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Lady Bracknell's editor over-reaches herself

Regular readers may feel that Lady Bracknell has been rather neglecting her blog of late. Although her ladyship's brain teems, as ever, with fascinating subjects with which to beguile and educate her readers, her editor has been much taken up with selfish concerns and has not been so freely available to type Lady Bracknell's pearls of wisdom onto the computing device as is ordinarily the case.

(Lady Bracknell regrets that the late Lord Bracknell's fiduciary imprudence has left her without the necessary resources to fund the employment of a full time editor. She has yet to discover to her satisfaction exactly why she was left in somewhat straitened circumstances, but will continue to examine his lordship's financial records minutely until such time as her natural curiosity on this point has been satisfied.)

And what, one might ask, has been absorbing the editor's every spare hour? The foolish woman is labouring under the delusion that she may be in possession of such skills and aptitudes as would recommend her for a secondment to a more senior position with another employer. To this end, she has spent the last three full days bent over the keyboard of the computing device, writing and re-writing her application. She has smoked far too many cigarettes and used language unbecoming to a lady. She has badgered trusted friends and colleagues into reading and commenting on her various drafts. She has tracked down and printed off her curriculum vitae; her training history; her annual appraisal documents; and every morsel of positive feedback on her professional performance received over the last two years. These have been compared and contrasted with the specifications for the job for which she is applying, and their contents bent to fit the requirements. Were she not so irritated at the loss of her amanuensis, Lady Bracknell could almost be moved to pity by the unwontedly pale complexion, and the ever-darkening shadows under the eyes.

Lady Bracknell knows that her views are old-fashioned. At the risk of appearing hopelessly behind the times, however, she really cannot prevent herself from passing comment on the conflict between the modern insistence on self-promotion in job applications and the natural reticence and self-deprecation of the British character. In Lady Bracknell's youth, applicants relied on testimonials from third parties which bore witness to their deportment, character and professional strengths. Whilst appreciating that this system was manifestly open to all manner of abuse, she cannot help but feel that it was generally less stressful to the individual seeking a new position than the modern alternative.

On another matter entirely, Lady Bracknell is much disappointed to discover that she and Mr Marmite will not be able to meet the Turtle when they visit Nottingham in a few weeks' time. This was a meeting to which she had been looking forward with no small enthusiasm. Nevertheless, she supports the Turtle's ambitions wholeheartedly, and wishes her every success on her chosen path. If she can provide any form of assistance, no matter how small, the Turtle has only to ask.


Blogger w1ld child said...

If yourself and Mr Marmite are visiting the city of Nottingham you may be "gifted" with a viewing of myself

8:57 pm  
Blogger Lady Bracknell said...

You intrigue Lady Bracknell strangely..... ;-)

9:01 pm  
Blogger w1ld child said...

I reside there, but I very rarely spend my weekends there.

9:06 pm  

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