I have decided to think about a career change, but once was enough as a consultant
13 February 2006
Retraining seems to be all the rage nowadays and I certainly do not want to get left out. But the more I look into it, the more it appears to involve exams, or at the very least "assessments" or worse still "peer reviews".
So I decided instead to investigate the possibility of the other fashionable lifestyle move, that is "career change".
The only possible career changes I could see would have to be ones I made for myself seeing that no one had invited me to make one. Critic or consultant were the best possibilities and since I had had more than enough of being a consultant some years ago, a critic I would aspire to be.
Next part of the adventure-what type of critic or a critic of what? I had written book reviews for several years some time ago but it's a hard market to break into. However, I re-read Martin Chuzzlewit over Christmas, all 802 pages of it and enjoyed it very much, so this was not a role I would dismiss too lightly.
Talking about lightly, I dismissed the idea of being a restaurant critic at once. I read all the reviews of restaurants that I can, agreeing with some, especially about price, and not with others. I love going to restaurants and I like a wide variety of food and wine. The problem is that in the past two of my friends elected to be restaurant critics and one became fatter than the other. For their health sake both had to give up. One of them took up speed walking while waving her arms about holding quite heavy dumb-bells. She lost the blubber she had put on in the line of duty but she lived in Dun Laoghaire where one can behave in quite a bizarre way without comment. It would be impossible in Dublin 4. The other ex-foodie has decreased little.
So what about a motor critic? There are so many ancient cars around our place I would have several on which to write test reviews. I could expound on oil-leakage, heater failure (especially when in the car), big ends etc.. My newfound knowledge on SUVs would cause interest-they are twice as likely to roll over in an accident than a sedan and children are much more likely to be injured in these in crashes, so why do young women with children favour them? But the whole idea made me bad tempered, what with thinking of the foolishness of some drivers and the oil dribbling on the gravel. (My complaints about this were met with the remark that the cars were going into their dribblage like us! He can speak for himself-this is what comes of marrying an older man-two years seemed like nothing all those years ago but now it's like two decades!)
A theatre critic was a delightful idea-concerts and the ballet would surely follow my success early in my career. But would I become crazed with power, knowing producers, directors, performers, were sitting up until dawn to get the first copy of the newspaper in which I wrote, knowing that without my approval the show could not go on? There was a man with such powers in New York once. I think he was called Frank and the lights went out on Broadway if he gave a show the thumbs down. What if I became one such in Dublin? No it would be too much for me.
Now television and radio are indoor activities so these might suit. Actually, telly is impossible because it doesn't exist anymore except on TG 4. It's all that is left to us. Eamon O'Cathain on "Bia's Bóthar" is best of all. He's so good I turn up the sound to hear his lovely speaking voice and some of the teanga must be going in. Radio is better but one seems to have to listen continuously if reviewing it. This could mean I would have to wear a headset which would make my tinnitus even worse.
A cinema critic seemed an obvious choice. There was safety in sitting it the dark. The cinemas were warm if noisy with the eating of popcorn. (I'd have to keep off the popcorn but it's not obligatory nor the soft, sweet drinks.) One problem was I hadn't seen a film since before George W was re-elected when I went to the Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11 which, indeed, may have helped rather than hindered George.
So I decided I'd better get in training and went to see "The March of the Penguins" with some friends. (They don't know yet I am about to become a film critic. I was incognito.) The film was delightful but the topic was dreadfully sad and quite unsuitable to be shown to children, even American ones, who are used to violence. The effort by Emperor penguins which goes into procreation is stupendous. Marching (hence the name of the film) backwards and forwards 70 miles across ice. Females march four times, males twice so it's in the usual gender balance. The females' fourth journey is shorter because the ice is melting and the males do have an appalling time balancing their one egg on their toes and under their tummies. The morbidity of males and females is high, chicks even higher.
The courtship between the pair of birds who stick together for the mating, hatching and rearing was charming, sexual intercourse very discretely covered which was amazing in view of the production team being French-I mention this because I read in a recent survey by some sensible group like OECD that said the French had sex more than the rest of us-or are they boasting untruthfully? Anyway, we have the highest fertility rate in Europe, so there! Also, there was a very explicit advertisement regarding gonorrhoea from the Crisis Pregnancy Agency as part of the programme so we must be up to something here.
I loved the film. One friend said it could have been cut to 15 minutes and it would have been better. Rather than trying to see more of new films I hope to go to see Monsieur Hulot's Holiday at the classic film evening in the Kildare Street and University Club. Don't all rush there; one has to be a member. The film is over 50 years old and the enjoyment of a film should be like an experiment-repeatable. I loved Mr Hulot before. Perhaps I should just be a critic of classic films?
Senator Mary Henry, MD
