Once Upon a Time in Great Britain: Part 2

FLASH

On Tom’s graduation photo he smiles, proud. Image fades to black slowly.

TOM (V/O)

When uni lets you out, their job is over. You get no support. You can go to the uni careers advice office, but they’ll just dump a load of leaflets on you and tell you to check the net. They even told me to 'change direction.' As far as your department’s concerned, you’re Alumni. You’re a figure for the pass rates. They don’t want to know you. It felt like getting out of prison, or I'd imagine, except you don't have a parole officer.

INT. BEDROOM- DAY

Tom files his degree certificate in a folder with care.

TOM (V/O)

After all the graft and all the stress, after all the anticipation of finishing the course and finally making some money, how was I rewarded?

Then he files a Jobseeker’s form- again, in his name.

TOM (V/O, CONT.)

What is wrong with this country?

INT. RECRUITMENT FAIR-DAY

ACCELERATED FOOTAGE-

HIGH ANGLE

Tom walks from stall to stall, picking up goody bags, dishing out CVs.

INT. TOM’S RENTED HOUSE- DAY

The building is nineteen-sixties-built and probably hasn’t been decorated since.

TOM’S CURRICULUM VITAE

On computer being typed, rearranged, adjusted, new experience being typed on.

THE GUARDIAN MEDIA GUIDE

Being opened, closed, read, written on, the spine becoming creased.

NEWSPAPERS

Being opened, ads being cut out, crossed out, thrown away.

JOB SEARCHING WEBSITES

Being used, Yell.com being searched.

EXT. STREET-DAY

Tom reappears in this montage walking into a job agency.

INT. AGENCY-DAY

Tom signs forms and is computer-tested at the agency.

EXT. STREET - DAY

Three shots of Tom walking through the doors of three other different agencies.

INT. OFFICE OF A COMPUTER SHOP-DAY

Tom's on the phone, with a box of computer software in his hand.

TOM

We didn’t mate. We only received nine copies. Please don’t ask me to check again- Oh fuck you, you fucking prick.

Slams the phone down. Customers look over to the office area nervously.

INT. TOM’S HOUSE- MORNING

FAST CUTS

Tom opens a P45 saying “Thomas Aaronson” at his kitchen table.

Then another.

And another.

Tom picks up the post. He opens a letter addressed to Thomas Aaronson BSc Hons.

The letter reads EMPLOYMENT GUARANTEED!

Over this:

TOM (V/O)

When you’re a dickhead like me, you dread opening the mail. You never know what it’s going to be. I job-hopped for a fucking year. I honestly did not have a clue what to do. Every company under the sun had either knocked me back or fired me within a month. I was gonna just fuck it all off and join the Army at some point, but even they might not even take me due to a few scrapes with the law. I thought: one last recruitment fair. One more go.

INT. HALL-DAY

FAST CUTS

A graduate recruitment fair: A room full of mostly twenty-one-year-olds hoping to find a much-needed job. Graduates and final year students- naïve young men and women- are queuing to meet managers, with plastic name badges and plastic smiles, standing in front of large billboards. Business names are proudly displayed all round. Many business reps from these companies look placidly at Tom’s CV and hand it back to him.

Tom walks away from one stall, on the verge of losing his nerve. His eyes are reddened from hay fever. He leans on one of the end stalls and drops the goody bags he got from the companies. He blows his nose and takes a sip from a carton of free orange juice. A free newspaper he received shouts HOTTEST SUMMER ON RECORD. Another headline reads: Political Assembly in Manchester: Is it Necessary?

At the other end of the hall, there’s a man in a black suit on an unmarked stall- MR DEVANT. He’s aged forty with a distinctive, clean-cut south-England accent. His stall is separate from the others, and he’s waiting. Devant and Tom lock eyes.

They are the only people paying each other attention. Tom picks up his bags and walks over with a trained smile.

TOM

Nice stall.

DEVANT

Thank you.

Devant nods to the rest of the room.

DEVANT

Seen anything you like?

TOM

I’ve seen loads I fancy. They just don’t like me. Story of my life. That’s what happens when you do a media degree instead of something remotely worthwhile.

DEVANT

I was just curious. Are you local?

TOM

Longsight born and bred! I’m a proud Manc, it’s safe to say.

Tom puts his fist on his heart and grins.

Devant studies Tom for a second.

DEVANT

You’ll have seen the city change, then.

TOM

Yes. Yeah… I was in town when the bomb went off in ’Ninety-six. I was supposed to get on a bus near there, but I was running late. It’s funny. Since then they’ve built hundreds of offices but, seemingly, I can’t stay in a single one of them.

DEVANT

And you’re looking for a new challenge to completely immerse yourself in.

TOM

Absolutely.

DEVANT

Do you have a CV?

TOM

Yes…?

Tom’s unsure as to who this guy is.

Devant gestures for Tom to sit on a chair. It belongs on the next stall, but Tom takes it anyway. Devant studies the sheet of paper. His eyebrows rise.

Tom is about to ask a question but Devant beats him to it.

DEVANT

How many words was this film censorship essay?

TOM

Ten thousand.

DEVANT

Interesting. What do you want to do?

TOM

I’ve been asking myself that for some time.

TOM (V/O)

Please God… Deliver me from administration…

TOM

I know one thing: I don’t ever want to work in an office for the rest of my existence.

DEVANT

Sounds like you’ve had a hard time since you left University.

Tom nods in self-pity.

TOM

I’m tired of selling myself with an air of, uh, pretentious enthusiasm.

DEVANT

You’ve got good qualifications; you’ve had plenty of work… What’s going wrong?

Tom decides to open up. He's nothing left to lose.

TOM

Well... my degree left me with the beginnings of a few useless skills, and an immensely crippling debt. Although I enjoyed uni and don’t see any point in regretting it, I’m still bitter that it's done nothing to improve my employability. My esteem is low. I've left out numerous jobs from my CV that didn’t last ‘cause I either couldn’t understand them or couldn’t tolerate them. The part time jobs I had while I was at uni, they left me with no decent work experience, unless you count pulling girls who probably weren’t old enough to be in the bar in the first place. There wasn’t even that much work to do at uni. Throughout three years of study, most of the time I just drank too much and generally made a tit out of myself. They still let me graduate- miraculously- and since then all I’ve done is move from one temp job to another. I’m beginning to think that there is NOTHING I can make a career out of.

Tom looks at the floor, like he’s just sold his soul to the devil. Then he gets out of his seat, exhausted.

TOM (mumbling)

There’s always the Job Centre again…

DEVANT (All business)

There’ll be a lot of opportunity in this city very soon.

Tom pauses; sits back down.

DEVANT

I’m looking for someone who not only is able to handle responsibility but who has a certain amount of pride in Manchester- someone who is very comfortable handling people from all areas of society. Someone who can deal with a frequent change of scenery, working with representatives from businesses like bars, banks, shops, some offices, but you won’t be there long, believe me. But particularly, I'm looking for resilience. I see that in you, Mr. Aaronson.

TOM

So there’s travel in the job, then?

DEVANT

Oh yes. Suit and tie work. Responsibility. You will be required to liaise with a variety of very important people in the private and public sectors of Manchester.

(Patronising)

Some of them girls…

Tom picks up on this; cuts him off.

TOM

What’s the pay like?

DEVANT

Like no other job you’ve ever had, I can assure you. The average student debt is fourteen grand. Am I right?

TOM

Uh, I dunno.

DEVANT

I am. Is that your figure?

TOM

Probably. I don’t really wanna check, to be honest.

DEVANT

Fourteen grand happens to be the average starting salary for graduates, strangely enough.

TOM

That’s what they say. I graduated a year ago and I never got that much. So far, none of my mates from uni have either. So, would you like to interview me, or...?

DEVANT

I don’t think so.

TOM- Disappointment.

DEVANT (deadpan)

How about I just give you a cheque for fourteen grand right now.

Tom searches for any sign that Devant is bluffing, and coughs as he tries to smooth things over.

TOM

You are going to give me fourteen grand?

Devant nods.

TOM

I wanna ask why, but I don't want you to change your mind just in case you're actually going to do this.

Devant takes out a chequebook and, with the last cheque in it, writes one out for Tom. From Tom’s perspective, the writing is upside down.

Tom can’t believe what is happening. He's trying to act professional, as if this is a normal occurrence in his life. But he’s still looking for the catch.

TOM

Sorry mate, but I don’t believe for a second that this cheque isn’t going to bounce.

DEVANT

Of course you don’t. And I don’t believe that anyone will ask you about your newly replenished bank account. Creditors will not contact you.

TOM

Hang on. If it is real, how do you know I’m not just going to cash this and disappear with it?

Devant holds up Tom’s CV.

DEVANT (a little threatening, but with charm)

I can easily find out more.

TOM

Wait a minute. This is tax-free, yeah? What is the business? What’s the whole thing about? And is this for like a year, or…

DEVANT

Wait for the phone call please Mr…

(Checks CV)

DEVANT

Aaronson.

Devant starts for the door.

TOM

Wait, Mr, er,

(Checks cheque)

Tom

Devant- is this not your stall?

DEVANT

No, Mr Aaronson. I’m squatting, or so you could say. Keep your phone on.

Devant fold up Tom’s CV, sticks it in an inside pocket and walks off, through the crowds of people and out of the room.

Tom’s staring at the cheque- £14000

Fourteen thousand pounds. Tom ditches the branded bags and folds up the cheque, sticking it in his jeans as he walks out with an uneasy smile.