RICHARD ORD: A job where you’re never short of work

Burglar - not a good career.
Burglar - not a good career.
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OUR Isaac had a heart-to-heart with his mum this week about where he sees his future.

He’s only nine years old, but it was heartening to know he was mature enough to realise the importance of talking to his parents about his career ambitions.

“I think,” he said, “I’d like to be a burglar.”

It immediately got me thinking. Yes, we could do with a new TV ... how soon can he start?

My wife pressed him further. “Why?” she asked.

“Because I like their jumpers,” he said. “And you wear a balaclava. I love balaclavas.”

Isaac is at least thinking along right lines. He wants to look good, earn loads and fleece ordinary folk. A career in banking beckons. “And,” he continued in his burglary theme,“you get to smash windows.”

My wife managed to reign him in by pointing out that the police take a pretty dim view of criminal activity.

“There are no PlayStations in prison,” she warned. She’s right. I think the prison service only provides the Xbox 360 for its inmates these days. I’ll have to check that out though.

After some considerable thought, he re-evaluated his ambitions.

“I think I’ll be a shop assistant,” he said.

Given the current job situation, he may well have set his sights too high.

There was a time in the Eighties when the job prospects for school-leavers were just as grim as they are today.

While I was failing in the higher education system, my best mate, after graduating from university with an economics degree, was taking his first tentative steps into the world of work.

He applied for a Saturday job at Topshop.

The letter he got back gave a good indication of the job situation at the time.

“Due to the high standard of applicants,” it read, “we are unable to offer you a position at the store at the moment in time.”

‘High standard of applicants!’ He had a degree in economics! Just who did they get for the job of checking out inside leg measurements on a pair of dungarees? Stephen Hawking?

It’s not much different today. Except these days, the prospective employers probably wouldn’t even bother to reply.

Historic win means bye-bye to the beard

IN football it’s great to win games, but there is a school of thought that you learn more in defeat than you ever learn in victory.

The under-10 football team I coach have been learning more than most.

In fact, I’d go as far as to say they have received a footballing education worthy of Harvard.

Fifteen games, 15 defeats. That’s not a learning curve; it’s a learning Everest.

I had vowed not to shave until they won a game. By game 16, I was sporting a full Grizzly Adams. I had visions of attending the club’s end-of-season presentation with the players carrying my trailing beard onto the stage like page boys attending a bride’s wedding dress train.

For the record (cue drum roll), this weekend they won! 4-1.

The boys have, at long last, learned how to win a game.

And me? What have I learned? Just one thing: You really need a new razor to shave off a full beard. Ouch!

Five-four-three-two...

WITH my football team on a run of 16 games without a win, I picked the wrong time to give up booze.

As I’ve mentioned previously, I decided to quit drink for a whole month of January as part of an Alcohol Concern health campaign.

Who’d have thought a month could last so long.

The press officers at alcohol-free wine-makers Eisberg spotted my efforts online and sent me through a bottle of their finest fun-free, sorry, alcohol-free wines.

Thank you, Eisberg, very much for the bottle, it’s untouched, but much appreciated.

For the record, I will be jumping back on the drinking wagon at one minute past midnight tonight.

If you happen to work for Guinness, Stella or any local micro-brewery press office... erm, just thought I’d mention it.

He’s only nine years old, but it was heartening to know he was mature enough to realise the importance of talking to his parents about his career ambitions.

“I think,” he said, “I’d like to be a burglar.”

It immediately got me thinking. Yes, we could do with a new TV ... how soon can he start?

My wife pressed him further. “Why?” she asked.

“Because I like their jumpers,” he said. “And you wear a balaclava. I love balaclavas.”

Isaac is at least thinking along right lines. He wants to look good, earn loads and fleece ordinary folk. A career in banking beckons. “And,” he continued in his burglary theme,“you get to smash windows.”

My wife managed to reign him in by pointing out that the police take a pretty dim view of criminal activity.

“There are no PlayStations in prison,” she warned. She’s right. I think the prison service only provides the Xbox 360 for its inmates these days. I’ll have to check that out though.

After some considerable thought, he re-evaluated his ambitions.

“I think I’ll be a shop assistant,” he said.

Given the current job situation, he may well have set his sights too high.

There was a time in the Eighties when the job prospects for school-leavers were just as grim as they are today.

While I was failing in the higher education system, my best mate, after graduating from university with an economics degree, was taking his first tentative steps into the world of work.

He applied for a Saturday job at Topshop.

The letter he got back gave a good indication of the job situation at the time.

“Due to the high standard of applicants,” it read, “we are unable to offer you a position at the store at the moment in time.”

‘High standard of applicants!’ He had a degree in economics! Just who did they get for the job of checking out inside leg measurements on a pair of dungarees? Stephen Hawking?

It’s not much different today. Except these days, the prospective employers probably wouldn’t even bother to reply.