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Posts Tagged ‘career counseling’

Regular readers of my blog will know that I pay as much attention to sport as I do to the state of my house. However, the other day I stumbled across my visiting mother muttering in a cluttered corner about Australian You-Bewt Tennis Legend, Lleyton Hewitt, and his “imaginary little friend”. 

“Please – no sport-talk in front of the children,” I gently reminded her before asking her exactly what the hell she was referring to. 

It turns out she’s talking about the little Hand Puppet that he likes to say “Come on!” to during tennis matches.

hewitt

Lleyton Hewitt literally "talks to the hand"

“Come on!” is apparently just an abbreviated way of saying “Oh do come on, my little friend, oh hand puppet of mine. Let us give this racquet-yielding rogue a thorough drubbing!” But in the heat of the moment, it just comes out “Come awwwwnnnnnnnnn!”

I mean, let’s face it: Lleyton certainly does like to talk to the hand during matches. Some people say it is a valid way of pumping himself up, getting himself into “The Zone”. Others say that, especially since he trademarked this duck-puppet gesture in 2008, that it’s just another way of makin’ an honest buck. Whatever the reason, him and his hand obviously share a Very Special Bond. I don’t want to speculate too much about what goes on in the locker rooms but I expect a little stress relief might sometimes be the order of the day, especially on those days where he’s knocked out in the first round of a Grand Slam Competition. And no, I can’t believe I just wrote that either. 

Lleyton shares a joke with a pal.

Lleyton shares a joke with a pal.

Of course, with all the current talk about Lleyton’s career being officially On The Nose, one can’t help but wonder what the future holds for him and his little friend… Well, here at NDM Central, I am not heartlessly deaf to his plight. In fact, I’ve even workshopped a few ideas…

Educator? Entertainer? Former-Prince-of-Pop-turned-Circus-Freak?

Educator? Entertainer? Former-Prince-of-Pop-turned-Circus-Super-Freak?

Really, I don’t know why more people don’t come to me with their career problems. I give the best advice.

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“Hell is another child’s poo,” my husband has often said. Which must mean our little friend Master J is issuing one-way tickets to eternal damnation. You see, Master J has a talent for pooing on demand. I kid you not. The boy and his bowel are a phenomenon unto themselves. His record is 7 times in a 2.5 hours – if the thought of all those nappy changes wasn’t so stomach-churning, it would be almost impressive. Especially since he barely eats a thing. I mean, where the hell does it all come from?

On one particular occasion at child care, he cacked his dacks three times in quick succession. After the third time, the childcare worker asked him why he was doing it. Of course, being a childcare professional, she most likely would have asked it in a nice polite way (some of those women are saints. Saints!), whereas I probably would have put my face very close to his and shouted “WHAT. IS. YOUR. PROBLEM?”. Anyway, his answer was: “Because mummy will come and pick me up.” You’ve got to hand it to the kid for his tenacity and for thinking “outside of the box” (no pun intended). 

It’s hard to imagine how Master J’s talent might translate itself when he’s an adult. “Give me a pay rise or I’ll fill my trousers” might not get the result he was hoping for – unless, of course, that result was being escorted out of the building by a large security guard wearing a gas mask and rubber gloves. 

Luckily for Master J he has many other strings to his bow – he’s a bright and creative little person. I guess his parents’ job is – as every parents’ job is –  to help channel and develop his many other talents so that he never has to use poo as leverage to climb the corporate ladder. I’d certainly hope the education system would be equal partners in this, but if they keep underpaying and undervaluing teachers as they do, this might not something to be relied upon. In any case, children can often fall through the cracks regardless of the quality of schools or teachers – which is what I feel happened to my friend Mistress M. 

Mistress M recently read me out the whole litany of sins she’d been accused of on her Year 7 report, written in an age where teachers could say what they thought without the fear of legal suits. She was disruptive, inattentive, surly, rude, noisy, lazy and even silly in every subject, with the notable exception of Art where it said “[Mistress M] is a quiet student who worked hard to achieve excellent results”. 

Now, it couldn’t be more obvious where Mistress M’s interests and talents lay – but for whatever reason, someone somewhere (maybe even M herself) dropped the ball and she never went to explore art any further than junior school. Interestingly, she went on to marry an artist, surround herself by artist friends and just have the general demeanor of an artist (not in the velvet opera cloak-wearing gitane-smoking “artiste” sense of the word, but more in that inherent sense of cool some other artists like my friends Mr and Mrs Black have). And instead painting, sculpting, illustrating, designing or creating stuff, she’s living it large as a physio receptionist. Not, I hasten to add, that I have anything against admin jobs – I’ve had plenty myself and I think most admin workers are the unsung heroes of the business world. I guess it’s just there was there was this unfulfilled potential for Something Else. (And for the record: she’s still a joyfully disruptive influence in Mothers’ group and often leads other girls astray with the excessive consumption of alcohol – because it’s never my own doing, oh no, not at all).

But it’s time to come back to our little poo-machine Master J and his exasperated-yet-loving parents. Apparently it used to be practice for some commando soldiers to be trained to defecate into their own hands on demand. Then, holding their shit in front of them, these commandos would rush at their enemies, who would retreat immediately, since most humans are unable to handle this kind of assault. Which should give Master J and his parents some comfort as A) it proves once and for all that his parents are super-human; and B) if none of his other talents get him anywhere, Master J will always have a career in the armed-forces to fall back on.

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