Big Break

I was struggling for things to write about today, and having resigned myself to staring at a wall until it is time to go out, the world decided it would intervene and send me something interesting to do. The world delivered unto me; Dai. The man's name was not Dai, it has been cleverly anonymised for reasons which will probably become apparent.

I work around computers, in a room which also sells food. This is called a cybercafe. Usually my responsibilities stretch only to making sure children are not too loud, do not hurt each other, themselves or the computers, and it occasionally stretches to putting the kibosh on improvised moth-executions. Today, however, I was shanghaied into being a graphic designer. Dai's graphic designer.

Dai was operating under the false assumption that since I was sat in front of a computer that I am a part of a group which he labelled "you tech-types". While Dai was half right, I am an internet nerd and I can touch-type, but simply because I can type a sentence out faster than he could read it, this does not mean that I have graphic designing capabilities. I do not. I am probably getting ahead of myself.

Dai is a short and sturdily-built fellow in a faded yellow polo shirt. He is missing several teeth from the bottom front row, which, since I am being generous, I will surmise that he lost in a sport-related accident. Dai is drunk, and smells it. It is around 5pm. He isn't aggressive, rather he is in a state of exaggerated sociability brought on by blunt self-confidence and the aforementioned prior drinking. Dai has a mission. He wants to make a poster.

I suppose I am doing myself down by opting myself out of the "you tech-types" group, I am very capable on computers and the internet is a key commodity that I hugely enjoy the use of. I blog, create sketches on youtube and release podcasts, which I often edit. However, I am not a graphic designer. The logos on our website are simple, elegant and professional. This is because someone else did them for us (our talented and generous friend over at HLW Design). Even the wonderful looking stand-in we had beforehand was constructed by The Fondantious ACRE, rather than myself. So it was with trepidation, having never used it before, that I opened Publisher.

Clumsily hamfisting my way through clip art, wordart and using google images to supplement these, I came the closest I have ever come to having a yes man. Dai became my goon, my henchman. He was overawed by my gerd (god and nerd) abilities. Clearly he was only overawed up to a point, having no real interest in computers himself, his awe was clearly coloured by his own technophobia/disinterest in computers.

Phrases like "wizard", "awesome", "you are a true gentleman", "this means so much to me", "this is excellent" etc flowed like a torrent, which was quite embarrassing, given the paucity of the actual poster.

It actually turned out quite nicely. It is simple, which is the only way it was going to be, but the simpler something is the less likely it is to look like absolute rubbish. Dai had come in with an idea; it was for a snooker tournament so the poster itself was a snooker table, replete with 6 pockets, with the information posted above and below a triangle of balls and two cues in the middle. It took a surprisingly short amount of time to bash up, given I have never seriously used Publisher, and the last time I opened it I was probably still in school.

I was amused that the superlative praise lavished upon the simplest of efforts was replaced by quite frank dismissals when an idea wasn't working: "No that looks shit" came out once, which I felt was refreshing. It is good that despite knowing the poster was being made completely out of my goodwill/boredom that he was happy enough to speak out if it was going in a way he didn't want. That isn't meant to sound sarcastic.

The experience was made more odd by the question "So what are you doing later?", which occurred a number of times, the answer to which on all occasions was "I'm going to a comedy night", which never really hit home for him. (Wil Hodgson is headlining, I am very much looking forward to it). He also had a habit of entering a manly handshake (mandshake) when anything went according to plan. Which was every few seconds. WordArt is to his liking? MANDSHAKE. This isn't a traditional handshake, but the 'cool' fist-grab/fist-hug/fist-clench, frustratingly I can't describe it accurately or find it's actual name from google.

When we'd printed a number of the posters out, he took me into a final mandshake and drew me into a manhug/shoulderbump which was highly uncomfortable and smelled of being drunk. It was 5:30, I don't want to be smelling being drunk. Also, I was in work.

He also bought me a bottle of diet coke, which was nice. It is unopened, so I wasn't too suspicious.
He knows my name, where I work and where I'm going tonight though, so if it was a clever drunken ruse then I am in for some raping later.

Suffice to say, having heard his profuse thanks, he is pleased and is going to be King Dong with his mates, and now I falsely believe I am the best graphic designer ever to write on this blog.

I have anonymised the poster and print screened the publisher file, so you can see how I cleverly I made the pockets. I am the cleverest person to ever live.

I would like to say thank you to whichever deity/force of nature/energy/etc deigned to send me Dai, it was interesting and has enabled me to write a blog entry, and coloured my day positively. It was probably Jesus what done it, given that I wrote on twitter:

"I am going to see Wil Hodgson tonight and, not that it's a competition, but that means my night will be better than Jesus'."

Take that you meddlesome godhead, I have defeated you by enjoying the awkwardness. Jesus fail.