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Repo Men

Posted in Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , on July 18, 2012 by javedbabar

It was Dimpy’s third Spatial Studies class. She’d made up the title in a burst of inspiration, or maybe desperation, when her Museum Director’s job was cut from five days to three days a week; she’d needed a way to feed herself and her one-year-old daughter.

She’d heard that Lucerne Valley College had received an Authority grant and was keen to start new courses. They’d accepted her proposal for a course in Spatial Studies, which she’d said was “a multi-disciplinary approach to the element that surrounds and defines material objects.” In truth it was a made up course hoping to fill student’s gaps in knowledge.

Two weeks ago she’d set them a trick question saying only “Your homework is to remember your homework”. Last week however she’d set them a real task.

“Right,” she said, “Who’s done homework?” No hands went up. Oh dear, she thought, they think I’ve set them another conundrum; I’ve created a habit that may be hard to break. Still, I had better continue.

She pointed to a girl who was loud among her peers, but quiet when it came to teacher. “What’s your name? Okay, Simone, where’s your homework?”

“I haven’t done it, Miss Kashi, because my father doesn’t have work, and I don’t have a home. That’s why I can’t do homework.”

Nice wordplay, thought Dimpy, but hardly believable. She stared at Simone and raised her eyebrows. Simone felt pressured, and said, “It’s true, Miss. There’s nowhere quiet to do it.”

Dimpy was embarrassed by her oversensitivity to Tom last week – thinking he was the victim of child abuse, when the cause of his aching arm was dragging around his fat cousin. She wouldn’t be so gullible this time. “Why not?” she said.

“Because we live in one room at the Valley Motel. The television is always on, and my mum and dad are shouting.” Other children were sniggering; it must be a joke. “Why do you live there?” said Dimpy.

Simone became serious and said, “Miss, I’m sure you’re aware of the economic downturn. I know that you have a job at the Museum too; I’ve seen you there. So you have two jobs, that’s great, but lots of people don’t even have one job…”

Dimpy was feeling bad; she’d been wrong about the girl, but she didn’t want to stop her now. Simone continued, “My folks had a tire shop in town. They’d struggled for years, building up debts, and whatever money came in was drunk away by my dad. They lost the tire shop and the bank took our house. The repo men took everything, even my computer. We can only live in the motel because my dad knows the guy there. We’re all looking for work, including me. But while I’m looking I thought I’d do an extra course. I got a grant for it. That’s a good thing isn’t it, Miss, even if I can’t do my homework?”

Dimpy was teaching the Spatial Studies course, but realized that some of her students knew more about spaces than she did. The gaps in their lives were bigger.

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Fat Cousin

Posted in Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , on July 17, 2012 by javedbabar

Dimpy (Dimples) said, “Okay, who’s remembered homework?” Everybody in her Spatial Studies class raised a hand. That’s a good response, she thought, seeing that at the first class they hadn’t even understood the subject. They’d imagined it was cosmology, Special Studies, or some form of Physical Ed.

Her instruction to the class had been “Your homework is to remember your homework.” Even she hadn’t understood the real meaning of the sentence, but it had caught their attention. The next question was a trick one; let’s see how they dealt with it.

She said, “Who’s done homework?”

Everybody looked at each other, and half of them raised their hands, and some put them down again, and some put them up again. Dimpy smiled and thought, if the purpose of my class is to find the space between thoughts, we may be getting somewhere.

She noticed that Tom – the only student whose name she remembered – hadn’t put up his hand. “Why haven’t you done it, Tom?”

He looked incredibly pained and said, “I have a very difficult situation at home, Miss Kashi. It makes it very hard to do homework.” He was about to say more, but stopped. Others began whispering around him. Dimpy felt sorry she’d asked, and was about to ask someone else, but he started up again.

He said, “My parents both work at a logging camp.” Both of them? thought Dimpy. They’d be isolated for weeks at a time with limited facilities and friends. They must really like each other, or hate and put up with each other, something she hadn’t managed with her one-year-old Tasha’s father. He continued, “So I live with my uncle and aunty in Lucerne.” There was such hurt in his eyes; his lips moving barely; this was a child in trouble.

Tasha had only one parent but at least she was present. Tom had two absent ones. Then she thought, hang on – two parents at logging camp? Were his parents both guys? Was he getting teased about this? Was that the “very difficult situation”? Or was it something much worse – that his uncle or aunty was abusing him?

She said, “Do you want to talk about his alone? We could go outside.” She walked nearer to him and said quietly, “Shall I call the college counsellor?”

“No need for that, Miss. Everyone in the class knows. They’ve seen her. That’s the price I pay for living with my uncle and aunty. They want to rest when they come home from work, and they tell me to take her out for a walk, and they say I have to hold her hand so she doesn’t fall down or run off. I keep swapping sides but it does no good. She’s so heavy, miss, my fat cousin. After the walk my arms are always aching. I can’t hold a pen, Miss Kashi, let alone write. That’s why I can’t do my homework.”

Dimpy was about to berate him for being silly. A college kid traumatized by having a fat cousin – how ridiculous! Then she remembered how crazy her own family was. Who would believe she had an invisible uncle?

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Spatial Studies

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience with tags , , , , , , , , on July 16, 2012 by javedbabar

Lucerne Valley College accepted Dimpy’s proposal to teach a course in Spatial Studies, whose title had come to her during a meditation. They agreed in principle to three ten-week terms, teaching two different classes weekly. These two days a week would fill the ones she was losing as a result of The Authority’s new accounting system, making her a cost rather than an asset to the museum. She couldn’t help feeling that there was also a vendetta at play between herself and the Board of Trustees. They wanted her out.

Having to support her one-year-old daughter Tasha by herself meant there was no time to feel sorry for herself. She had to take action. She had committed to presenting the Spatial Studies course and had better now think of a lesson plan.

“It’s the study of space,” she’d told the college administrator. “A multi-sensory approach to the element that surrounds and defines all material objects. I’m sure you know that the universe’s building blocks are 99.9% empty space.”

“Of course,” he’d said. “Yes, it sounds like a wonderful course.”

Teaching the course though was a different matter. She would have to convince the students.

She had a bright idea – maybe that was the answer: to ask the students. See what they wanted to learn; explore gaps in their knowledge. There was plenty of information out there on the internet, on TV, in book stores, and on cell phones. What was lacking was cohesion and integration. Maybe that was the space she should explore with students. What they had right now was a ladder with missing rungs, through which to fall, and possibly even missing rails, meaning never climbing at all.

The turnout for the first class was good: thirty students. She only needed fifteen to make it viable for the college. The administrator introduced her. “This is Miss Dimples Kashi who will be teaching this course in Spatial Studies. It will cover a wide range of disciplines and set you thinking, and may sometimes give you a headache. So keep your thinking caps on! Miss Kashi, they’re all yours.”

“Okay, class, who can define space for me?”

No hand went up. She pointed to a boy at the back. “Hello, what’s your name? Tom? Okay, Tom, what’s your understanding of space?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Excuse me? This is a class in Spatial Studies, the study of space.”

“The study of space? Like outer space?”

“No, it’s broader than that.”

Another boy said, “I thought it was Special Studies. I thought it would be easy; that’s why I came.”

There was a chorus of “Me too.”

A girl said, “I thought it was something like Physical Ed.”

More calls of “Me too.”

Oh dear, thought Dimpy. Maybe her lesson plan of limited dimensions, infinite extents, and linguistic and mathematical gaps must wait; as for theories and practice, objective and subjective views, symbols and archetypes, and the concept of a room in which to do all these things – those must wait too.

The bell rang, and shoes shuffled immediately. Bags were snatched and students arose. She called out, “Your homework is to remember your homework.”

They stopped and looked at her. She’d created a small space.

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No Knowledge Without College

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience with tags , , , , , , , , on July 15, 2012 by javedbabar

Since being appointed Museum Director, Dimpy (Dimples) had really brought the place to life. There were no more dull exhibits and long-winded labels, strange opening hours, and bans on food and drink.

Lucerne Valley Museum had become a destination! Young people now came here and brought their friends. Old Fashioned Friday was a monthly dance night that drew people from the City and beyond. A few things had been broken, and others had disappeared, but that was the cost of doing business. You gotta break some free-range eggs to make an organic Western omelette.

The annual Debaters night was also a hit. Last year’s debate between the horny old world god Cernunnos and lovely St Lucy, both wanting to be named “Founder of Lucerne”, and Dimpy’s going into labour and giving birth to her daughter Tasha right there, had become local history itself.

Dimpy had also made peace with the trustees, though they would not forgive her for discovering Lucerne’s great secret. The Old Families still kept it locked in the museum safe.

She had salvaged an Upper Valley cabin about to be torn down – the owner was convinced he was a bear; he had been hospitalized and his property sold – and she had conceived the concept of the Future Museum celebrating technology. Artificial Intelligence, programmable matter, nanobots, cold fusion, and space solar power, would all one day affect Lucerne as much as any place.

Overall, visitor numbers had quadrupled. Dimpy was pleased with herself.

The Chair of Trustees, Mr Roseman, came by one day. He said, “Can I please see you in the boardroom?”

When she entered, she saw that the whole board was present. Mr Roseman said, “I’m afraid I have some bad news, Dimpy. We all agree that you are doing an excellent job. However, The Authority’s new accounting system requires us to look at the CPV: Cost Per Visitor, for every aspect of the museum. As you know, we are all volunteers. You however are very expensive, and don’t fall within acceptable parameters. We have no choice but to cut your pay or let you go. What do you wish to do?”

Dimpy had maintained regular contact with the trustees, and attended all scheduled board meetings. This was the first time that anything like this had ever been mentioned; it was a total shock. The scheming swines! She had to think quickly to keep her post.

“What if I remained on the same daily rate but reduced my days?”

Mr Roseman said, “Well that is another possibility. Is that your preferred option?”

Dimpy had heard that Lucerne Valley College had received a grant and was keen to start new courses. Maybe she could do something there – teach a course in Museum Studies or Basic Archaeology. Maybe World History or Cultural Anthropology. Or something crazy like The Evolution of Human Consciousness and Development of the Bicameral Mind. She would think of something. But she also needed to keep what she could of this job.

She said, “Yes, how about three days a week?” The trustees said that they’d discuss her proposal and respond tomorrow.

That night Dimpy meditated upon her favourite mantra – Be Here Now.

Two words appeared in her mind – Spatial Studies.

She didn’t quite know what to make of them, and fell asleep wondering. The next morning she opened a book of quotes she kept by her bedside. St Augustine said, “Since you cannot do good to all, you are to pay special attention to those who, by the accidents of time, or place, or circumstances, are brought into closer connection with you.”

Dimpy realized that Lucerne was the space she occupied now. She could teach and study its living treasures.

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African Sandwich Shop

Posted in Infinite City, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 14, 2012 by javedbabar

Bobby couldn’t believe that it had happened again. Rather than telling the person sitting opposite him about his business idea, he’d allowed him to talk for the full two minutes, till it was time to move onto the next person. The Speed Networking event was fun but also stressful. He didn’t like competition and aggression; maybe he wasn’t cut out for business.

The black lady he’d spotted earlier came and sat opposite him. She wore a bright turban and kaftan. Maybe she would be interested in hearing his idea for an African sandwich shop. Or maybe she was a pushy businesswoman who would tell him about her idea instead.

“Hello, I’m Betty,” she said. “My mind is filled with many profitable possibilities, but first I would like to hear about your business idea.”

“Oh thank you,” said Bobby, taken by surprise. “I have an idea for… Oh sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Bobby, I’ve recently moved to Lucerne, and I have an idea for an African sandwich shop.”

“That sounds very interesting,” said the lady, smiling broadly, and nodding her head, her turban almost toppling. “Please tell me more.”

“Oh, yes, sure. The main constituents of a sandwich are the bread, the filling, and the spread or sauce. I’m pretty tired of what’s available at most delis. White or brown bread with mayo or marge, and turkey, ham, beef or cheese salad.”

The woman nodded deeply, the top of her turban arcing eighteen inches. “Yes! Yes! So boring!” she said. People on both sides of them looked over.

“I’ve travelled quite a bit in Africa. There are simple, rich flavours there, so strange and delicious. I wanted to make creative use of them. Not so much mix and match, more adapt and innovate…”

The woman continued nodding, her turban top now attracting much attention. “What places have you been to? What flavours did you like?”

“Just in terms of bread ingredients, we could use carbohydrates like Morroccan cous cous, Egyptian Nile barley, Ethiopian injera, Tanzanian ugali, Zimbabwean sadza, Nigerian cassava, Namibian bush potatoes, and have a weekly Saharan Special where we try something really crazy.”

“Ha! Ha! That sounds wonderful!” Her nodding was huge; her voice booming. Speed Networkers and other attendees of the New Idea Show stopped and stared. “I can help you with this. I am a trained chef and master baker. Shall we test recipes next week?”

“That would be great! Which part of Africa do you come from? We can start with that.”

“I come from the Caribbean,” she said. “St Vincent and Grenadines. Not Africa.”

Bobby hadn’t considered this possibility. He must have looked shocked. “But I come from Africa originally. We all do. That’s why I wish to help you with your business. It will reconnect us to our source.”

“Our sauce?” said Bobby, before realizing his mistake.

As a bell rang to signal the session’s end, the New Ideas Show was abuzz with talk of the African sandwich shop.

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Guru Who?

Posted in Infinite City, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , on July 13, 2012 by javedbabar

It was tiring meeting so many people so quickly – thirty in an hour, for two minutes each. The New Ideas Show’s Speed Networking event was however a great way to broaden your business connections and share your backgrounds and goals. Who knew what it could lead to?

The problem was that Bobby was too polite. He held back and didn’t like talking over people. What happened at most of his meetings was that the other person told him all about themselves and their ideas, and heard nothing about him. Maybe he should think of the interactions as beatings rather than meetings.

He decided that in the next one, he would go first. He would own the meeting.

It was an Indian guy with shiny black beard and orange turban and robes. Not your usual business attire, but Bill Gates wore jeans, Larry Ellison wore turtle necks, and Richard Branson wore dresses, so each to his own.

He’d spotted this Indian guy earlier, and was keen to talk to him about one of his two business ideas – a “spice cream” van, exotically flavoured ice creams for sale to ethnic communities. He could target their holy festivals and their weddings circuit.

“Hello, I’m Bobby,” he said to the Indian guy. “I’d like to discuss my idea for…”

“How do you know that?” he interrupted.

“How do I know what?”

“How do you know that your name is Bobby?”

“Look, that’s my name. That’s what it says on my driver’s licence. I’ve had it all my life. Is that good enough for you?” Jeez, who was this guy!

“It’s good enough for me,” said the Indian guy. “But is it good enough for you?”

“Of course it’s good enough for me. It’s my name. What are you getting at?” Was he trying to link his business idea with his name? Maybe he could call his product “Bobby’s Spice Cream”. But that was hardly important right now. “Look, I’m not really sure…”

“I am Makasha, a spiritual teacher who has learnt at the feet of the great Guru Baba, and acted as OM’s personal assistant.” OM was short for Ozwald Malchizedek, a controversial local figure.

Bobby’s politeness was his failing. He said, “Oh, what did you learn?”

“There are two Universal Laws that supersede all others: The Law of Attraction and the Law of Karma. The Law of Attraction says that you get what you wish for; it is a qualitative, emotional law. The Law of Karma says you get what you give; it is a quantitative, rational law. You exist at the place where these two laws meet. You are always at their centre. The only thing to choose is your orientation.”

Bobby had heard about these laws before, but not thought about them too much. Who has time these days?

“All human beings are aware of these laws, consciously or unconsciously, but they choose to ignore them, instead wasting their lives on trivial matters like making money and chasing…”

The bell rang. “Oh our time is up. It was very holy to meet you. Please take my card.” His shiny orange, gold-edged business card said “Makasha, Spiritual Master. Personal appointments from $100/hr. Corporate incentive schemes available.”

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Pyramid Power

Posted in Infinite City, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 12, 2012 by javedbabar

The silver-haired TV producer was an interesting fellow, if a little creepy. The bell rang at the Speed Networking event, and the outer circle of people each moved one chair clockwise.

The girl now sitting opposite Bobby was pretty. She was in her late twenties, dark-haired, with a diamond nose-stud and silver Ankh necklace. Surprisingly she wore a pin-striped business suit, rather than jeans or a dress like most ladies present. It seemed too formal for an event in Lucerne. The New Ideas Show’s Speed Networking event was about creativity not formality. At least that’s what he’d supposed.

“Hello, I’m Caroline,” she said. “And I run my own business.”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Bobby, currently erm… in between jobs. What kind of business do you have?”

Her right eye twitched before she answered, saying, “I would like to make an appointment with you one day next week to discuss it.”

Bobby was confused by her answer. That wasn’t what he’d asked, so he repeated the question. “What kind of business is it?”

Her right eye twitched again. “I would like to make an appointment with you to discuss it.”

Momentarily he was flattered, thinking this was her way of asking him out on a date. Then he thought, who are you kidding? She’s repeating a script.

“I’m not trying to be difficult, Caroline, but how can I gauge my interest in your business if you won’t tell me what it is?”

“It is a business that is accessible to anybody who is passionate about helping others and acquiring wealth. We offer world class training in leadership dynamics, mind dynamics, and sales dynamics. Its all about beliefs and habits. If you believe you can do it, and are willing to develop productive habits, you truly can.”

“But what will I do?” He was losing patience with this woman, but was also amused. Besides, you are allowed to indulge babes.

She said, “You will develop a passive income which will be received monthly, with little effort required once you’ve set up your system. You can work flexible hours from any location.”

“That sounds great but…”

“I started last year and am already a millionaire.”

Bobby thought, maybe I’m wrong about this girl. Is she really on to something? “That’s amazing! In twelve months you’ve made a million dollars?”

Her eye twitched and she looked uncomfortable. “Not a million dollars, yet. A million friends though. Money comes and goes, but friends last forever.”

Bobby couldn’t help laughing. “You’ve got a million friends. Wonderful! Where are they all?”

“Well, I’ve only got one thousand friends myself. And if they have one thousand friends each, that’s a network of one million people, ready to make money. It’s all about relationships – like atoms at the quantum level…”

Bobby interrupted, “And how will they all make money?” He suspected this was a pyramid scheme set-up; the classic eight-ball model where rather than the steady arithmetic progression of 1+2+3+4+5=15 you use a geometric short cut of 1+2+4+8=15, which runs out of steps far quicker, leaving the smallest players struggling.

She looked away and said, “I’m not sure yet. I’m building my network first. It could be any business. I would like to make an appointment with you…”

Her Ankh caught the light and shone out. Bobby held a grudging admiration for her persistence but felt her belief was misguided, like workers in Ancient Egypt, playing their part in building a great pyramid, but only ever laying its lowest blocks.

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Reality TV

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 11, 2012 by javedbabar

The man in black with a silver crew-cut and tiny beard said, “Hello, I’m Frank, TV Producer.”

That’s more like it, thought Bobby. I couldn’t really see myself with the previous two people – a lawyer and an accountant – but I could probably hang out with a TV producer. That was the whole purpose of the New Ideas Show’s Speed Networking event – to meet the kind of people you wouldn’t usually come across, and share your backgrounds and goals. You never know what these new relationships can lead to.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Bobby. I’m new in town and looking for work.”

“Excellent,” said Frank. “I always need new people. Do you watch much TV? What skills do you have? Are you single? Are you politically engaged?”

“That’s a lot of questions,” said Bobby. He wondered how he was expected to answer.

“I’m sorry; it’s the nature of my business to always question. I mainly produce reality TV shows and am always asking Who? What? How? When? And What For? Have you seen Lonely London and its spin-off Lovely London? The First One In? Why Should I Live Like That? What? You haven’t seen any of them? You’re not much of a viewer.”

“Don’t take it personally. I’ve had a lot going on in my life. There’s been no time for TV.”

“Not to worry,” said Frank, running has hand over his silvered head and stroking his tiny beard. “I’m looking to base a new show in Lucerne. I think it’s the perfect location with rich natural and cultural assets. There’s the Old Families, logging and farming for five generations, and new families escaping the stresses and expense of the city; there’s poor kids barely making a living, and billionaires building holiday homes; Anglo-Saxons and Natives, with Chinese and Indians coming in…”

So that’s the modern media business, thought Bobby. Take a trend and put your own spin on it. Make it distinctive. “What do you have in mind?” he asked.

“I’m still developing the idea. I’ve ruled out hidden cameras and hoaxes; this town is too small for those, and job searches and sports are mundane. I’m focussing on ethnic, supernatural, self-improvement…” he thought for a moment, “and maybe dating themes…”

Bobby couldn’t help interrupting. “How about helping Guru Baba,” – a famous holy man who had retired to Lucerne – “to build his karma and find a new wife in his next life?” He couldn’t believe he’d said something so ridiculous; it had come from nowhere.

Frank nodded his head, amused. “I don’t think that’s it, but I like your thinking. Look I’m in real need of story editors and segment producers. It doesn’t seem that you have technical skills, but you are a creative thinker. There are all kinds of things that need to happen behind the scenes; we need to script action, manipulate events, influence audience voting, re-stage scenes – create sensational television by whatever means. Maximise the voyeur-wow-factor to increase viewers and maximise advertising revenues.”

“But that sounds quite contrived. Don’t you make reality television?” said Bobby.

“It’s all about sex and money and twenty-four hour surveillance – how much more real can you get?”

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Five Flag Theory

Posted in Infinite City, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , on July 10, 2012 by javedbabar

Bobby hadn’t enjoyed his first session of Speed Networking at the New Ideas Show. The lawyer had been a parasite, wanting to target victims of large-scale disasters. The term “climate sucker” sprung to mind. Bobby wondered if he had invented it.

The next person to sit opposite him for a two minute session – a minute each to introduce themselves and their ideas – seemed a curious fellow. He was a middle aged man in bright yellow blazer, blue trousers and green hat, with a black and red flower in his buttonhole. The bell rang as soon as he sat down, and they began conversing. “Can you guess my profession?” said the man. “Go on! I bet you can’t!”

“Are you a professional clown?” said Bobby.

“Professional clown! Ha! Ha! Many people say that. Actually I’m the opposite – most unprofessional! Ha! Ha! And most sober. I’m an accountant.”

He performed some hat tricks, rapidly swapping his green hat for a bronze hat, then silver hat, then golden hat, before returning the green hat. “I’m trying to attract new clients. Do you find me amusing?”

Before Bobby could answer, he produced five flags and waved them around his head. “I wish to create a more colourful image for my profession. We get unfair press. It can be stifling for one’s creativity!”

“But you need to have a reason for what you’re doing,” said Bobby. “If there isn’t a purpose behind your display, people won’t take you seriously.”

The accountant was taken aback by this. He stopped waving the flags.

“Sir, I was only jesting when I stated I was unprofessional.  I am highly proficient and most professional. My flower, for example, symbolizes the state of your bank account: in the black or in the red. My hats show the stages of an ideal investment career: from being a green investor, to earning bronze, silver, and ultimately golden returns.”

Bobby wasn’t convinced. “Then what’s with the flags? They are just distracting people.”

“Five flag theory is a valuable tax strategy. For an individual to retain sovereignty over his affairs, he should have his citizenship, residence, business, assets, and playground all in different countries, with appropriate structural advantages. I am promoting the concept of world citizenry, rather than narrow affiliations to the present paradigm of nation-states.

“When you create an us, you also create a them. I am for global equality in all matters – especially financial ones. Anyway, can’t a man have some fun at work?”

The accountant seemed like a nice fellow. Bobby had upset him and he was keen to make amends. He restarted the conversation and asked, “And where have you planted your five flags?”

He said, “Here in Lucerne of course. Five different countries? No thanks! The truth be told, I am a rather conventional fellow.”

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Barratry

Posted in Infinite City, Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 9, 2012 by javedbabar

Because of a no-show, Bobby had managed to get a spot at the Speed Networking event. He was more comfortable at these side events, than being jostled on the main floor of the New Ideas Show. He was given a name badge and asked to sit in the inner circle of thirty chairs.

Each person seated there would have two minutes with each of the thirty participants in the outer circle. They had a minute to expound their professional backgrounds and business goals, and then switch roles, before the outer circle rotated. The first man sitting opposite him looked very serious indeed. He wore a grey suit, affixed with his badge but without completed name.

The host of the event, a bald man in a blue blazer and red cravat, rang a dinner bell and conversations began. The nameless fellow said to Bobby, “Hello, I’m Jonathon Andrew, legal professional. Shall I start?”

“Sure, go ahead,” said Bobby.

“There is a distrust of lawyers among the general public.” The man licked his lips too many times for Bobby’s liking. “It’s a long-term issue, going back to medieval Europe, even Biblical times, accusing us of false and frivolous litigation, false documentation, deception, procrastination, even excessive fees! Can you believe that, men of our learning and talents? In current times this distrust is growing, leading to a significant drop in business.”

He’s very frank, thought Bobby; I wonder if he’s like that in court. Bobby knew what he meant though. When a dispute with his ex-wife had arisen, he had himself bought a legal self-help book rather than consult a lawyer. The dispute cost $7.99+tax to resolve, rather than $300+ each.

Jonathon Andrew continued. “To increase demand I am looking for people who are able to travel at short notice. Ideally single males, with good communication and survival skills.”

“What for?” said Bobby, unconsciously licking his lips.

“I’ll admit I was a sceptic at first. I thought it was just green hogwash, but after seeing so many hurricanes, tornadoes, tsunamis and floods in recent years, I believe in the reality of climate change. There are sure to be more large-scale disasters like these. The poor victims must be helped to recover and rebuild their lives.”

“I’ve always wanted to do be involved in foreign aid work,” said Bobby. “What a great way to promote what you stand for.”

“That’s the spirit, boy! You’ve got the idea exactly.” He gave him a big wink. “And if we make some money in the process, why not? There’s always someone to blame for every disaster, regardless of whether it’s natural or man-made.” He licked his lips again. “The deal would be one-third to me, one-third to you, and one-third to the victim, minus fees of course.”

The bell rang indicating that the lawyer had massively overrun. There was no time for Bobby to talk about himself. He was in truth glad it was time for his next date.

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