The three lads – JP, Mono and Rasher – were seated comfortably at the bar counter in Donleavy’s. The weather had equilibrated back to normal after the searing heat of the previous week. Our three amigos had also settled back to a rhythm that suited them. Certainly, their buttocks had relaxed on the bar stools in their time-honoured fashion. All was good with the world. Nothing was pressing the conversation. Pints could be drunk in a leisurely fashion. Buttocks were spread, breathing was even, eyes stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. Synchronised pint drinking was based around small aliquots of liquid. Life moved along.
JP broke into the serenity after a while
“I was talkin’ to the nephew last week.”
He left this to sit there for a while.
“Is this the pharma executive one?”, Mono enquired for clarification.
JP inhaled long and hard and then let it all out through restricted lips. The breath came out like a noisy gale.
“Pharma executive me hole. Young fella was probably told to hang onto a clipboard for a minute while some other guy or gal tied their shoelaces. That’s probably as close as he’s got to executive status.”
“Harsh, JP.”
JP brought his lips back to where they were designed to rest.
“Maybe I am a bit harsh? He does have the fundamental quality of all executives.”
“What’s tha’?”
The question came back in stereo. Clearly both Rasher and Mono were interested in this piece of clarity. JP wasted no time in satisfying their curiosity.
“Adores the aroma of his own flatulence.
Mono looked at Rasher. Rasher looked at Mono. It was Rasher who chipped in at this point.
“Harsh. Cuttin’. Bit bitchy even?”
JP looked at them each in turn.
“No. I swear. I bet he hates the demise of phone boxes. I’m sure he used to go into a box, blow off a few and stay there doin’ his version of breathin’ mindfulness.”
That got a guffaw from the two boys. Rasher was in as quick as a fly on a shite.
“Windfullness more like.”
“Hey – Nice one.”
That wonderful addition to the Donleavy lexicon deserved another visit to the pint glass. And that’s exactly what happened. A re-establishment of relaxed breathing pattern was required and executed before the conversation proceeded once more. Mono led the charge.
“Anyway. What about him?”
“Who?”
“The bleedin’ nephew, for feck sake.”
JP straightened himself on the bar stool, squared his shoulders and let them drift back to a more relaxed position.
“Oh yeah. Knocked off me game there for a second. In a rare moment of anythin’ less than supreme confidence and ego inflatin’ news items – the nephew told me he didn’t get a promotion he went for.”
Rasher kicked in with a telling assessment.
“Hey – given all you’ve shared ‘bout him – he musta applied for Global Commander in Chief?”
JP felt a need to elaborate the analysis towards a more granular detail.
“Yeah. Too right. Reality is probably that the vacancy was for ‘senior git’ or ‘associate go-for’ or ‘junior pencil pusher’ or even ‘trainee photocopier’. But you’re spot on. From his description – and I have to admit, me eyes glazed over after a minute – it sounded like ‘mentor to the CEO’. But whatever it was he didn’t get it.”
The two other lads shook their heads and felt that, at the very least, despite JP’s clear lack of affinity towards his nephew, that the decent thing to do was to utter a tut-tut in a humanitarian recognition of the nephew’s disappointment. So. That’s what they did – all credit to them – they uttered a tut-tut.
However – JP seemed to have any benevolent approach towards the nephew filtered out. He seemed oblivious to any tutting. Or if he wasn’t oblivious, he did a mighty job of letting it float right above his head. He continued as if he hadn’t heard a sound.
“Nah. But this was the bit that stuck in me mind. He said that he was suckin’ the hind tit in the promotion stakes. Literally. He reckoned with positive discrimination these days he’d need to be a person of colour, a female person of colour and preferably a female person of colour with a hump on his back to get promoted.”
“Hey – Nice one. At least the nephew has a sense of humour. Takin’ it well.”
JP looked at them. Slowly and each in turn. As if they hadn’t yet mastered Ladybird Books.
“Not at all. He’s thinkin’ of taking legal action. Reckon his right to equality has been infringed.”
It was now the turn of the two boys to exhale out loud.
“Feck me. That’d be interestin’.”
“What’s you say to him JP?”
“Ah, I encouraged him all the way. Sure he’s such a dickhead , the only way is to agree with him. I even suggested he organise a global class action suit to bring in all the other brutally disadvantaged males.”
“Ah JP. You were windin’ him.”
“Didn’t take much. Knobhead thought it was a mighty idea. Rang some big law firm in the city directly then – from my feckin’ kitchen!”
“Yer pullin’ the piss?”
“Nah. Scout’s bleedin’ honour. They’re interested. He’s got a meetin’ with ‘em next Monday. He thinks I’m the dog’s bollocks for givin’ him the idea.”
The lads imbibed further. A long draught this time – because of all the talking that had gone on. The volume to be swallowed was shared subliminally and each glass returned to its beer mat with a comparable volume. Mastery of synchronised pint drinking displayed yet again.
JP got the conversation going again.
“Makes ya think thou’, doesn’t it?”
“Think about wha’?”
“The women.”
“Jayzus JP. Ya don’t have to encourage me. I think about ‘em all the time. Probably too much if the truth were told. And rarely does ‘Her Indoors’ feature in those thoughts. Too much competition.”
“Well thank you Rasher for sharin’ that insight into yer intimate dreams – but I was more thinkin’ of women promoted in their jobs.”
“Boring.”
“Well – I was more thinkin’ of Paige Spiranac.”
“Yeah – her golf swing!”
“What else?”
JP started to get a bit spikey. He looked at each of Rasher and Mono in turn.
“A bit of order gentleman. Some respect for the speaker.”
“Sorry JP.”
“Yeah. What the hell were you talkin’ ‘bout again. Good lookin’ women? Yeah.”
“Jayzus, that Mandy O’Meara that lives down the road from you is a fine half.”
“And available again!”
“I’d say she’d push yer Paige all the way to the 18th.”
“I’ll give ya that. Concede That’s a gimme.”
JP was getting more than spikey now. His red in his face was more than sunburn.
“Gentlemen. I’m sure I asked ya for a bit of bleedin’ order for the speaker. And you lads are bang out of order.”
The two lads were suitably chastened.
“Now as I was sayin’….”, and he paused for dramatic emphasis, “I think the lads are lookin’ up through the glass ceiling now rather than the lasses.”
“Jayzus JP, is that not a crime? Don’t they call it up-skirtin’?”
“Ah for feck sake. It’s a figurative glass ceilin’ not a bleedin’ literal one.”
Mono scratched his head.
“JP I always had a mental block to this figurative/literal thing. Which is what?”
“Oh, mother of the divine. You can’t see the glass ceilin’. All right? Do ya get it now?”
Mono took the clarification in his stride.
“Just as well – too much temptation to be lookin’ up. Get yerself arrested.”
JP was now fuming. We’re talking nuclear technicians running round his brain trying to avoid a Defcon 1 scenario and a JP nuclear release.
“I’m tryin’ to make an important point here. Can we have a bit of bleedin’ focus. Like – just for a second. Is that bleedin’ possible?”
“Sorry JP.”
“Yeah, sorry JP. All ears.”
“I was just thinkin’ how many promoted females will be always wonderin’ did they get the job because they deserve it – or because of being lassies.”
Mono looked at Rasher. Rasher looked at Mono. They both looked at JP. A time for letting this sink in was allowed to pass.
“Do you think they’ll care JP?”
“Yeah. Who cares? They’ll have the extra yo-yos and the fancy title.”
“Talkin’ of fancy words. The legal eagles the nephew was talkin’ to suggested that the legal action should be advertised as – ‘loss of equality rights due to inappropriate positive discrimination towards diversity candidates’.”
“Wahoo!“
Rasher put fingers into imaginary braces and pushed back a non-existent Stetson hat from his head like he was in The Silver Dollar Saloon.
“They talkin’ prettier than a twenty dollar whore.”
JP felt it was time for another drink. They all reached for glasses together. JP looked straight ahead into the bar counter mirror.
“I get a feeling in me waters that this might actually be somethin’.”
Rasher was first to react.
“I’ve got a feelin’ in me waters that its time for a battered cod and chips.”
“That’s a good feeling.”
They drained their glasses.
“Come on. We’re gone. Give Donleavy the nod.”
Just another night in Donleavy’s
JP@Donleavy’s 