Drear Sir…

There’s something about filling in job application forms that encourages a kind of word blindness to settle on your shoulders and cling like an itchy vile-coloured scarf. Even those whose fingers are accustomed to gliding swan-like and decisive across the keyboard become stuttering cack-handed semi-literate blunt stumps when it comes to the “why do you want this job?” section. Or mine do at least.

To be fair, it feels a little harsh to blame this completely on the malfunctioning of one’s digits. No, in truth the fingers are as usual only carrying out the instructions of the brain (or the brian as I’d probably have written it this afternoon). Except for some reason those instructions have been put through one of the gobbledegook typewriters of the eternal monkeys who are otherwise busily occupied coming up with random versions of Shakespeare or whatever.

Of course the accidental juxtaposition or substitution of letters can have some unintentionally amusing consequences. From and form, thanks and thnaks, are perennial personal favourites, but ago and ego offers much more entertainment value in the recruitment context.

And so on an so fifth until you come to that point where your document is so littered with those ‘helpful’ little red and green squiggly lines that you just have to print the whole damn lot out. At which stage, any reasonably sane person (or me) curses out loud to no-one in particular, puts on the kettle, lights a fag and throws a crunchy chocolate snowball for the dog (which of course bounces off his head and disappears under a heap of washing).

Anyway, just a small aside by way of procrastination.

Now bach to the drawering bored. Thnaks for dearing.