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Please sit down. I’m afraid I have some
rather bad news for you; you are now seventeen
and you have contracted an occupational disease called
unemployment. Like others similarly afflicted
you will experience feelings of
shock, disbelief, injustice, guilt, apathy and aggression
(although not necessarily in that order)
and you’ll no doubt be urged to try the various
recommended anodynes: editorials in newspapers,
voluntary unpaid work for local charities , booze,
other compulsive mind-destroyers, prayer, comforting
talks with increasingly less-interested friends.
It is a small comfort to know that the disease
is universal and can accommodate
the middle-age and thirtyish and strikes down
those camps in Kampong Sam and Warsaw.
However you will discover, as the time passes,
that your presence in itself will make others
obviously uncomfortable. Try not to let
your shadow, at this stage,
fall across your neighbour’s plate; eat
with the right hand only; do not touch
others in public (this can be easily
misconstrued); keep always
down-wind, if possible. Please remember
you have now become our common vulnerability
personified. Oh yes, and, by the way,
you will be relieved to know the disease
is only in a minority of cases terminal.
Most, that is, survive. Next please.