Life is tough for the young people of today seeking to get a foothold on the career ladder. In order to get a job, one needs qualifications and experience. The qualifications come from three poverty-stricken years as a student relying on bar work, the bank of mum and dad and petty crime. Getting experience, however, is more difficult, but luckily our previous government set up numerous schemes of apprenticeships and internships, which suited both employers and the new generation of employees.
Thankfully our HR department got some applications in before the watershed. As a consequence we have several bright-eyed young executives-in-waiting buzzing around head office helping us oldies with computer problems, explaining modern pop culture and generally broadening our horizons. It is not a perfect situation, for it would appear no one under 28 years old can make good coffee and, when asked to fetch the daily broadsheets, they return with a copy of the NME magazine or Closer clutched in their greasy paws. Still, they are cheap, entertaining, IT compliant, quick learning and surprisingly industrious. Further ruining the stereotype of our hooded generation, it would appear that only one item of office stationery has gone missing in recent months and, given the two identical staplers on my desk at home, I'm pretty sure the culprit is Saga eligible.
As part of some inter-departmental incentive exercise, one middle manager decided to hold a competition among our nippers to spur them on yet further. The prize was an all-expenses-paid month in a selection of European countries. To their well-hidden glee, the lucky winner would be tailing me travelling about. As the MD diplomatically explained to me, it would be like having a PA at my side at all times. I explained that I was perfectly happy with my PA as she was, particularly as she remains in the office doing all the complicated work that my little brain can't cope with. Alas my protestations went unheeded and at a T5 departure lounge around 05:30 on the following Monday I got a tap on the shoulder. Initially I thought I was about to be mugged, but the pristine M&S suit, laptop, Casio digital watch, and a folded copy of FHM magazine under the arm suggested a fate far worse.
At this point I am sure you are expecting a long commentary narrating the adventures of the last month with my new protégé. However, on the first day he contracted a throat infection and had to go home, leaving me to roam free without developing the inferiority complex that currently seems to be ailing my similarly matured colleagues.
Our entrepreneurial correspondent travels the world in search of business, soft beds and good breakfasts.
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