When you’re jobless, bored and glum, attempting to see the deeper meaning in your money/sex/work/point-less existence can provide the necessary buffer between you and suicide – or worse: going for a job as a telesales person.
Getting existential allows the flancer mind (exhausted from thinking up reasons why you – the flancer – are fundamentally a waste of good amino acid chains) to take a well-earned sabbatical from the sort of self-pity that would have a Samaritan frantically mouthing – ‘TELL. HER. I’M. OUT.’ across the desk to their colleague who picked up your call without thinking. Now, it can direct its flagging energies into forming esoteric reasons as to why you haven’t been commissioned since the invention of the telephone.
‘I have no work,’ smiles the flancer from his/her place of spiritual connection (the armchair in front of CSI:NY) ‘because the universe is preparing me for something more significant.’
What this ‘significant’ thing might be, tends to remain unspecified, as God hates to spoil one’s roll by appearing in a dream pointing his large finger at a dole queue. He will generally refrain from getting too involved, preferring to graciously leave such things to the flancer’s happy imaginings, in order to retain his position as the all-loving, all-giving Holy Spirit. A sort of Barak Obama of the heavens, if you will.
After this epiphany, the flancer will start (irritatingly) seeing every event as an indicator that popular recognition and financial abundance awaits them around every letter from the bank demanding they come in for a serious talking to.
In some ways this is good: the flancer will stop moping about and maybe even wash their tracksuit bottoms. And in some ways it is very bad: they will give the nice lady at Natwest bank the finger, safe in the assumption that – overdraft be hanged! – the Universe is on their side (and looks a bit like Liam Neeson in Batman Begins) and it’s all going to turn out perfectly within 48-hours.
Fortunately, this breed of uncharacteristic rampant positivity generally only lasts about 48 hours anyway and so when Natwest send a really nasty letter threatening court action, the flancer doesn’t feel let down by anyone in any way whatsoever – be it the Universe or Liam Neeson.
However, if this is happening to a flancer you know and their positivity lasts longer than 48-hours, seek medical help. Because when they suddenly start seeing the face of Mary Magdalene in their Marmite on toast, they are generally only a phone call away from becoming a Mormon.