The act of Sedaris-ing a job interview.

I am putting together my 'book' to try and get a 'proper job.'

It has been recommended that I put some of my own writing in, to get some idea of who I am. I already know who I am (sick writer/heaps funny).

I have spent some time recently trying to curate a selection of work from this blog, to put in an A3 folder so I can show it to people who don't really have the time/patience to read it.

Ideally I would replace the A3 folder with a podium and the Creative Director with a Recital Hall full of pleased people in glasses aged 20-40.

*Literary technique: narrative voice shifts to focus inward.*

Me just up on stage in a tie. A bunch of things I'd written printed out and tucked into my shirt pocket. Crowd all clapping and excited to hear me read things out.

So I get on stage and start just freestyle talking. I'm just riffing on pop culture and strange mannerisms - Jesus is my family weird, by the way. Did you know that I used to work - get this - in the middle of the night! I slept all day! Isn't that super depressing?

Did I mention that they flew in Corinne Grant just to warm up the crowd and ask me a few questions? Brendan Cowell was there too man. Tonight was seminal. Tonight was one of those nights that you have to submit a copy of to the State Library.

So I finish my bit and wait a few moments. I can here a guy in the back repeatedly yelling: 'He couldn't have used more correct words to say those things!'

Judith Lucy joins me back on stage for the Q&A bit of the evening. I'm a bit worried she's going to make a joke about masturbating. Thankfully she just gets on with the questions:

'So what kind of job are you after?'
'Ah, copywriter. As junior as possible, please.'