The Devil At Your Heels
Gosh, I’ve honestly started writing this post about half a dozen times over the last few weeks and given up on every single attempt. Hopefully now that I’ve submitted the first of two godforsaken fellowship applications, I’ve got a little bit of hindsight and perspective, which might aid the process. I’m still undecided as to how the best way is of giving the average reader an outline of what’s involved in this ridiculous venture, without resorting to the use of lots and lots of expletives. All I can say is that after offloading the chunky document, I’m feeling seriously deflated. So here goes … I might try my hand at a mini-fairytale.
In this tale of high anxiety and fragile egos, the perpetually scarved, duffle-coated and beanied protagonist has to do battle with an evil and nasty pen-pushing, paper shuffling troll that guards the Monash Research Office in the remote suburban kingdom of Clayton. The tactless, rude and poorly socialised troll stands in the way of the protagonist putting in her bid for a sum of money to be obtained from a national research funding body. If our protagonist gets her mitts on this dosh, she will be able to go overseas and work for a highly intelligent, matter-of-fact and goofy fellow who is based in the home state of Coca-Cola. Working in our protagonist’s favour is this guy’s amazing ability to answer emails and send faxes promptly – mysteriously, he can do so even more efficiently than many local academics. And stranger still, he seems to work in a nocturnal fashion.
After having painstakingly filled in each section of the offending application, writing up a detailed research plan (…plan? this is science!), and asking her superior’s advice on the art of self-promotion, our wool-clad protagonist decides that it’s time to begin the final lap of this long race. It’s now time to get some “important signatures” on the bulky document. Initially this proves much easier than expected (once our technophobe heroine has politely negotiated with the fax machine) and within a couple of days, the most critical aforementioned signatures have been obtained. So after one final proof-read, with big white envelope tucked under her arm, our protagonist sets off on the Pakenham line to the grossly over-concreted Clayton and drops off the bulky document to the Monash Research Office where her application will be given a final check before submission. She is informed that someone will notify her of its status.
Several days pass without a murmur and our protagonist begins to fret. With only four days to go before her application is due, she decides to make contact with the intimidating troll in charge of receiving and checking all applications. The troll rudely informs our protagonist of several oversights and questions whether she has “read the instructions properly”. To add further insult to injury, the troll – who is merely supposed to act as a signatory, as opposed to an assessor of the actual content of the application – points out to our protagonist that she is unlikely to be “competitive”. The influence-wielding troll gruffly orders our heroine to make all necessary changes to the document, and procure an additional letter from her intended overseas supervisor by noon the following day. So, our perplexed and wounded protagonist attempts to gather her wits and sets about making the necessary amendments to her application. She also punches out a hasty email to her intended supervisor and crosses her fingers that he will get back to her the following morning. Realising that all she can do now is wait, our heroine trots downstairs to seek counsel from the Wise One who dwells a few floors below her. This helps a great deal and helps put things in perspective.
Sure enough, the following morning, the all-important email from her intended supervisor is found loitering in our protagonist’s Inbox. With lifted spirits, she punches out a message to the morose and sour troll, informing her that she will drop off the bulky revised document before noon that day, and will therefore make the deadline. So again, duffle-coated and scarved, another big white envelope tucked under her arm, she sets off to once again visit the backwater that is Clayton. After having dropped off the revised document, she emerges from the dark of the Research Office and the sun seems to be shining so much brighter than it was before.
In this tale of high anxiety and fragile egos, the perpetually scarved, duffle-coated and beanied protagonist has to do battle with an evil and nasty pen-pushing, paper shuffling troll that guards the Monash Research Office in the remote suburban kingdom of Clayton. The tactless, rude and poorly socialised troll stands in the way of the protagonist putting in her bid for a sum of money to be obtained from a national research funding body. If our protagonist gets her mitts on this dosh, she will be able to go overseas and work for a highly intelligent, matter-of-fact and goofy fellow who is based in the home state of Coca-Cola. Working in our protagonist’s favour is this guy’s amazing ability to answer emails and send faxes promptly – mysteriously, he can do so even more efficiently than many local academics. And stranger still, he seems to work in a nocturnal fashion.
After having painstakingly filled in each section of the offending application, writing up a detailed research plan (…plan? this is science!), and asking her superior’s advice on the art of self-promotion, our wool-clad protagonist decides that it’s time to begin the final lap of this long race. It’s now time to get some “important signatures” on the bulky document. Initially this proves much easier than expected (once our technophobe heroine has politely negotiated with the fax machine) and within a couple of days, the most critical aforementioned signatures have been obtained. So after one final proof-read, with big white envelope tucked under her arm, our protagonist sets off on the Pakenham line to the grossly over-concreted Clayton and drops off the bulky document to the Monash Research Office where her application will be given a final check before submission. She is informed that someone will notify her of its status.
Several days pass without a murmur and our protagonist begins to fret. With only four days to go before her application is due, she decides to make contact with the intimidating troll in charge of receiving and checking all applications. The troll rudely informs our protagonist of several oversights and questions whether she has “read the instructions properly”. To add further insult to injury, the troll – who is merely supposed to act as a signatory, as opposed to an assessor of the actual content of the application – points out to our protagonist that she is unlikely to be “competitive”. The influence-wielding troll gruffly orders our heroine to make all necessary changes to the document, and procure an additional letter from her intended overseas supervisor by noon the following day. So, our perplexed and wounded protagonist attempts to gather her wits and sets about making the necessary amendments to her application. She also punches out a hasty email to her intended supervisor and crosses her fingers that he will get back to her the following morning. Realising that all she can do now is wait, our heroine trots downstairs to seek counsel from the Wise One who dwells a few floors below her. This helps a great deal and helps put things in perspective.
Sure enough, the following morning, the all-important email from her intended supervisor is found loitering in our protagonist’s Inbox. With lifted spirits, she punches out a message to the morose and sour troll, informing her that she will drop off the bulky revised document before noon that day, and will therefore make the deadline. So again, duffle-coated and scarved, another big white envelope tucked under her arm, she sets off to once again visit the backwater that is Clayton. After having dropped off the revised document, she emerges from the dark of the Research Office and the sun seems to be shining so much brighter than it was before.
posted by yossarian | 7:27 PM
4 Comments:
my word what a saga! typical bloody blasted admin trolls! I share your frustration. good to hear that there is still a Wise One and a Cool Sup around to assist.
who did this troll take lessons from? a vogon? a telstra operator? worse still an rmit admin officer! i honestly thought rmit made bureaucracy an artform but it looks like this troll went a step further. good on ya though!
...those trolls in your blog are too cute, sort of like Shrek being an unliekly ogre because of his endearing nature and goofy sesame street character like ears. Anyhow, fingers crossed the application makes it's way safely to the hands of those who dwell in the crystal kingdom above and everything is sorted!
:)
woah! didn't expect this comedy of errors to get such a great response, so thanks heaps!! ... and yeah, it's amazing what you can find lurking out there in cyberspace when you google "trolls". i'll also have to keep a close eye on that ol' moon too!
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