JETHRO HOROWITZ

As I unconsciously squirmed my way into reality from the darkness of my slumber, I flung my hand down hard upon the source of my disturbance. I had set my alarm for 7:30am and it, unlike so many other things in my life, went off just as planned. The excruciating pain of waking up before I was completely and utterly rested was almost unbearable. Like a wounded soldier crying out for a medic on the battlefield, I cursed out at myself for making an almost impossible promise to my grandma. I had agreed to attend an advertising course she enrolled me in for my birthday present.

I used the shower to treat my rapidly declining state of alertness. I was a moose stuck in ice and needed a good 15 minutes of thawing to get me even close to the threshold of consciousness. Stepping out of the shower, and looking both to my left and right, I treaded gingerly back to my room so as not to draw attention from the water police for my obvious infraction.

Dressed in my best pair of shorts, and a shirt with an accidental, but noticeable, by no means fashionable hole in the center, I could have easily passed for an undercover VIP pokies player – degenerate central. I topped the look off with 2 months worth of stubble and a hairstyle which wouldn’t have been acceptable in any decade or era. In any case, this was just a day at The Grace Hotel’s function room, what harm could be done?

Well, after 20 minutes of travel time, I arrived at my destination expecting there to be staff waiting for me with an icy drink and perhaps a shell necklace. I say ‘perhaps’, because sometimes it’s a floral wreath. Instead, I got the kind of look from staff (and patrons) which told me the hotel’s toilets are not for public use. I had to explain my situation and ask for directions.

After much unguided meandering, I eventually found the room. Even though I was 20 minutes late, I thought I would be the first one there on account of the ungodly earliness of the morning. Taking a deep breath, I burst through the doors making a fine entry and was surprised to see every head in the room turn in my direction. 19 out of the 20 heads were females and 20 out of 20 bodies were dressed in business suits. I couldn’t have been more out of place if I brought sausages to a pie eating contest. I stood there in shock and finally blurted out that I was there for the advertising course. I was guided to my seat by 40 piercing eyes.

The teacher’s lecture held my attention throughout the majority of the day but it was not the most intense of topics and I found myself drifting in and out. A couple of hours in, she asked us to talk amongst our table and come up with a slogan for an orange juice company. We had 5 minutes to do it in and we were advised to write something catchy and witty. As soon as her directions left her lips and entered my ear. I had come up with the greatest slogan these people were ever going to hear. Now, I know, I know what you are thinking, ‘Jethro tell your group your idea and bask in the glory for the 5 minutes’. I could have done that, but that wouldn’t have given the others the chance to participate. Instead, I waited until the perfect opportunity to bestow my wisdom upon my colleagues. The moment came 3 minutes in, when the two girls and one guy were tapped for ideas after exhausting the two words they came up with, ‘fresh’ and ‘tasty’. They unanimously and simultaneously looked up at me and I said ‘Our juice is worth the squeeze’. I first allowed the appropriate time for my work chums to return to a normal breathing and heart rate, and then I sat back and drank the sweet juice of success.

After I had had my fill, it was time for us to present our pearls of wisdom to the class. We went around in a circle and the other teams presented their cobbled together literary bombs. When it came our turn, the two girls both looked to me and I opened my mouth to sing the golden tune, but I couldn’t because someone else was reading out my line! I turned to my right and watched in horror as the knob, whom I had shared my idea with (which will probably be used in the next big orange juice label) totally ripped the red carpet from my feet. He got a round of applause and a couple of girls wet themselves.

After that event, the slope downhill just got steeper and steeper. We broke for lunch, which was a buffet of meats ranging from beef, pork and even duck. There was also a salad bar, which the ladies destroyed like a plague of locusts. I piled my plate up high with fresh slaughterhouse candy and took my seat in amongst a conversation between two girls. From what I gathered during my feeding frenzy, the topic of conversation was about how they were both morning people and how nothing’s better than waking up in the early morning. Besides the obvious point that nobody in the world between the ages of 10 and 50 is a morning person, it is impossible based on the fact that humans have a 25 hour biological clock. I sat there for a while and listened in on them digging themselves an argumentative grave. In possibly the biggest mistake the girl to my left made that day, she asked me what time I usually wake up for work. I didn’t want to come across as a complete asshole, so for modesty’s sake, I shaved a couple of hours from my usual wake up time and told her 4 o’ clock in the afternoon. They were surprised by my late wake up time and started grilling me with questions relating to my work etc… I answered them politely and waited patiently for my turn to ask them some questions.

My turn finally rolled around after I had polished off my plate and was ready for some BBQ’ing of my own. I asked one of them if she usually wakes up at the same time during the weekend as she does during the weekday. She laughed and said ‘no way, of course I sleep in, I love to sleep in.’ I paused for it to sink in. She still hadn’t figured out that she was totally contradicting herself, so I asked just one last obvious question. I asked her how she could call herself a morning person, if given the choice, she sleeps through the morning. As the words were leaving my mouth, my brain was frantically telling me to stop, while my eyes witnessed the soul crushing effects of my blow. What happened next, were 30 seconds of silence, followed by both girls needing to go to the bathroom, never to return.

Now you tell me, was it me or them?

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