The Muserium Imaginia

This is my second day at the Muserium Imaginia and the first time I have been left alone in the building. The scale of the work ahead of me is finally beginning to cast its shadow after the sense of unbridled optimism yesterday brought. I have made a cup of tea in the tiny kitchen and taken it back to what will be my desk to consider what I have agreed to.

It was, without a doubt, one of the strangest adverts I had ever read for a job.

Wanted

Person without imagination

The Muserium Imaginia is seeking a new Director to take up the post on the retirement of the previous and original post holders. The job requires someone with a melancholic outlook and limited optimism. Pessimists need not apply.

Send a brief Curriculum Vitae to PO Box 111 at this paper.

I had glanced at it over morning tea in my kitchenette. The ring my cup had left on the paper had accidentally circled it with a brown stain drawing my attention to it. I was still in my dressing gown and considering another day awake with little purpose. It was the fact that the advert had made me smile that provoked me to go over to my computer and type “Muserium Imaginia” in the search bar.

My interest was further roused by the fact that “Muserium Imaginia” ‘spidered’ not one direct search reference was hardly encouraging. The fact that it thought I was looking for a mushroom fantasia probably reflected my recent searches.

However, it provoked an outburst of activity which was quite alien to my recent life. I opened up my CV folder on the home screen and glanced at the most recent. It was nine months old but did not need updating as I had failed to obtain any work of real substance over that period. My initial enthusiasm for applying for jobs suitable to my qualifications had dampened and finally dried up. The warning from my parents that ‘classics’ was a “bloody stupid choice” had proved prescient.

I printed off a copy and hand wrote an envelope. For the first time in three days I showered, dressed and left the flat. I pushed the envelope through the post box of the local newspaper and took the opportunity to buy fresh milk and bread.

I walked home safe in the knowledge that nothing would come of this momentary burst of life.