VIII - The Tragedy: Act I, Scene I

[Scene is a large room with several tables set up in a square. A projector shines a slideshow of Social Media onto the wall. The room is drab and lifeless, and the Careers Advisor is orange and almost day-glo.]

[Enter Phil]

Phil's Brain: Yep, that's right: I went through five years of further education to go back to Secondary School.

[Enter 11 other hopeless prospects. Their legs almost drag, their stares are blank, and a silence is amongst them.

The 12 jobless take their seats.]

Careers Advisor: So, today, we're going to focus on Social Media and it's place within searching for jobs. First, we just need to take a register.

Phil's Brain: This is it. This is really it. This is my life. It's over. Wodan, if you have any mercy for perhaps the last of your followers, strike my heart into stillness and take me to the gates of Asgaard!

[Register is called out]

Phil: Here.

[Register continues to be called out. Once taken, the Careers Advisor, a cheerful young woman, almost day-glo, with a general friendly demeanour, stands in front of the table.]

Advisor: So, today, we're going to focus on Social Media. Right now, i'd like you to introduce yourselves and tell everyone about your job prospects, why you're unemployed, something to tell us!

Phil's Brain: THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING. I'M BACK IN PRIMARY SCHOOL NOW.

[Jobseekers, in dreary, monotone, dead voices, answer. Most are 19 years old out of further education. One was recently laid off. Advisor looks at Phil.]

Phil: I'm Phil. Twenty one. Recent graduate of English Studies, and it was a waste of time.

[Cue a few chuckles, either of agreement or possibly self-righteous laughs of people not stupid enough to waste time in University.]

Advisor: .....Right. So, what are your job prospects?

Phil: Teaching English as a--

Advisor: Teaching?

Phil [Impatiently]: Teaching English as a Foreign Language. Need to go on a TEFL course.

Advisor: Postcode?

[Stunned few seconds of silence]

Phil's Brain: She's thicker than a goddamn oatcake.

Phil: No. TEFL course. Need money for it--

Advisor: And have you looked into funding for it?

Phil's Brain: No, why do you think i'm here? For FUN?!

Phil: Not available for postgraduates.

Advisor: Ah, moving on.

[Greetings are finished.]

Advisor: So, we're going to talk about Facebook, Twitter and Linkedin. How many of you use Facebook?

[A general smattering of "Yup" goes up, like mini Dave Hester's are in the room.]

Advisor: ..Can we have a show of hands, just so I can see?

[Everyone raises their hands]

 Advisor: Right, so, you all know how to use it, then?

Phil's Brain: No, we put our arms up because we all got cramp in unison.

Advisor: Did you know you could use Facebook for job searching?

Phil's Brain: THAT'S WHY WE'RE HERE!

Advisor: Y'see, above your profile, there's a little bar called a search bar..

Phil's Brain: We're not even human fucking beings anymore. We're petulent little maggots incapable of thought now.

[Image of timeline shows up on screen]

Advisor: Now, this is a picture of your Timeline. I don't know if anyone elses is like that..

Phil's Brain: EVERYONE'S IS! IT'S A GODDAMN UNIVERSAL CODING!

Advisor: ...But everyone can see it if you don't have privacy settings enabled. So, I don't know if you know, but you can scroll down, add life events, view your pictures...

Phil's Brain: Oh Wodan, this is real. This is actually real. She thinks we're all morons who signed up to Facebook and then licked the screen for an hour before logging off. THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!

Advisor: I mean, during one session, large session, someone actually searched me on Facebook and found my pictures, and were showing them to his mates! Honestly! That's why it's a good idea to enable privacy settings, otherwise everyone can search you. Now, onto Twitter...

Phil's Brain: This is it. This is the end. Phil, I'm sorry, but as your brain, I really need to shut down right now. I have been with you throughout the good and the bad, but you've hit bottom so hard that it's beginning to make me feel physical pain. We went through so much education together, I became so smart and filled with knowledge, and now they believe I am an underfed husk like the brains of the other people here. Phil, tonight, I may just shut down permanently and place us both into a state of permanent hibernation, until the year 10,000 CE when the Jobcentre is destroyed by a sentient race of flying brains. I did not go through so many years of education, and do not hold so many creative thoughts, just for hostis humani generis to turn around and treat me like a retard.

  [Advisor continues on. Everyone's face is blank, their souls dead and their dreams destroyed. This is what being a Smoggy truly is all about: Death and despair.]

Advisor: So, on Twitter, they use these things called hashtags, so you can join, like, a global conversation..

Phil's Brain: I think i'll overdose us both with serotonin. But the stores are empty. Why is the serotonin always gone?

Advisor: ...Onto Linkedin. Linkedin is like a social site, but a lot different from Facebook and Twitter. It's a site you can pay for if you want, for extra features, but it's used to really host your CV and network with employers..

Phil's Brain: That's basically just every job site ever conceived.

Advisor: ...So on this site, potential employers or your friends can write recommendations for you, or previous employers. See, there's this thing called six degrees of a seperation, anyone heard of it?

[A few murmurs roll through the room]

Advisor: So, like, I went to Florida, and you book into a hotel in Florida, and at poolside you can find yourself talking to someone who lives five minutes away! And that's what can happen here: Potential employers and the like..

[A loop of The Real McKenzie's "The Lads Who Fought And Won" plays repeatedly in Phil's Brain. Phil's eyes appeared glazed, as if the last parts of his soul that weren't crushed and destroyed by life in North East England are finally escaping, having given up altogether.]

Advisor: ....So, I hope this was helpful!

Nearby Jobseeker: Should we fill out these forms?

[Jobseeker motions to forms on table. The same forms are in front of everyone.]

Advisor: Oh, yes, please fill them out so we can contact you with any possible help...

[A rattling of pens and chairs occurs as the Jobseeker's lean forward and fill out the forms. Phil's pen, barely working, is scraped lifelessly across the form as he appears essentially dead.]

Phil's Brain: Not so fast, buddy. If I have to suffer, you must too.

Advisor [Talking to Jobcentre Staff]: So, are these held fortnightly?

Staff: Well, they happen every fortnight, then we take a break. So tomorrow's the second week, then we'll take a break, then we'll hold other sessions..

Phil's Brain: THERE'S MORE SESSIONS??!?! Right, screw this, you can go again. I'm outta here.

[Phil's eyes glaze over as the sound of scurrying footsteps and a slamming door echo in his skull. Phil is handed a second form, an Action Plan.]

Advisor: So, fill these out, so we can get an idea of how to help you.

Phil [Quietly]: Just like fucking Primary School..

[Jobseekers fill out forms, sliding them across the table. Several leave as Advisor hands out more pieces of paper.]

Advisor: This is how to create a Linkedin account and the like. You graduates, here's some sites you can use..

Phil: Sites we've already been given countless times already. And being taught how to do something simple.  

[Phil fills in the forms. More Jobseekers leave.]

Phil's Brain: This is just tragic. C'mon, let's get outside. Then you can look at the other dead, soulless cretins and at least be thankful you're not an old, dead soulless cretin

[Exit Phil. Outside in Eston, it's raining. A police van has pulled up outside Barclays with several officers jostling outside. Behind him, an inbred and drunk woman is shouting at a security officer, just doing his job, because she's a thankless cow. Phil walks out, noticing the grey, drab and lifeless scenery.]

Phil:  Somebody, please shoot me. Or at the very least, nuke this place.

[End of Act I, Scene I]