Limitless: "I don't need to work for anything."

I usually don't blog about movies.

Quite frankly there's rarely much to blog about.

Explosion. Sex. Another explosion. 3D.

That's about 90% of my cinema's listings.

But Limitless intrigued me. 

A great high concept. 

A decent execution. 

I wasn't bored. 

I left, and then I got to thinking, "Was Limitless a clever social commentary, or a reflection of the modern day belief that one should never have to work for anything?"

I'll be honest, I was rooting for DeNiro in the end. 

Certainly not for Bradley Cooper.

If use of 100% of our brain makes us that level of deluded asshole, God forbid that it should ever happen.

"Yes, YouTube videos are work. I'm sure the leaping cat is bound to have the answer."

First Call

“The most important thing is not to worry…”

You are totally right. When that customer picks up the phone expecting their technical update and gets someone who can’t even identify the type of product that they have, and who instead waffles on about a delay in their response whilst answering not a single question with a reasonable answer, there will be absolutely nothing to worry about.

Methodically breathing in and out, I close my eyes and chant that the power of hanging up goes both ways. It’s week three and my trainer is off sick with a long-term medical problem. There’s no back up. I’ve had no training. I’ve had no coaching. But it’s okay, because in case you’ve forgotten I’ve been labelled technically minded. Thrust into the hustle and bustle of the floor, I sit completely petrified, staring at my enemy—the dusty, faded handset. All I have to do is pick it up, call a number from our database and advise Mrs Scott that we’ve yet to fix the problem with her TV. But we are working super hard on it. Honest. Yes, YouTube videos are work. I'm sure the leaping cat is bound to have the answer.

Unable to put it off any longer, I dial the number with trembling fingers and pray away my firstborn that Mrs Scott does not pick up.

“Hello…”

Fine. Wasn’t planning to have children anyway.

“Uh, hi. This is, um, erm, Techtronics Customer Services. You called us—”

“Oh, aye. Are you calling about the tele? Whats wrang with it?”

“Well, um, I am not sure. I am just calling—”

“What do you mean you’re no’ sure?”

“Well, I am just making a call on the behalf of the technical team. They…”

“…can’t be bothered to get up off their lazy arse and call me themselves?”

“No, it’s just…”

“So let me get this straight—you are calling me to tell me that you’ve done sod all?”

“This is a courtesy call…”

“Well, I can tell you where you can shove your courtesy…”

Click. Blessed numbness of a dial tone.

Just fifty more of these to go.

In time I learn that ‘technically-minded’ is GenEx code for ‘If I had some gasoline and a box of matches you probably wouldn't be the first person I'd set on fire'.

And on with the story we go...

Technical Training

End of week one, I graduate with flying colours. A shiny certificate (well I never technically get one but everything is cheap diner laminated so it had to have been shiny) pronounces that I am ready to take calls. 

I know the total sum of nothing. In fact I am fairly certain I've lost some common sense. GenEx are all about company-set processes. Free thinking, scratch that, thinking, is not wanted or encouraged.

We now divide, separating into our own individual accounts. I am not particularly friendly with the other two Techtronics employees so it’s a total slog. Our trainer is lovely if somewhat insecure. The boys immediately go for the kill: arriving late; not doing any work; pretending they have doctor’s appointments.

I simply open my mouth.

“So you are married?” Inclining my head, I indicate her ring.

“Just got divorced,” she says. “My husband is a chef.”

“I can’t imagine ever leaving a chef.”

“Actually, he left me.”

~~~~~

By the end of the second week, I know everything there is to know about Techtronics. Namely: where and when the company was formed; its vast generic product range (of which I have no idea which products I will be expected to support); and that our trainer is counting down to the day she never has to look at us again.

“As you are more technically minded, you’ll be supporting our Audio Visual line.”

Her announcement is a bit of a shock. Chiefly because no-one has tested my technical knowledge. Well, knowledge, full stop. 

In time I learn that ‘technically-minded’ is GenEx code for ‘If I had some gasoline and a box of matches you probably wouldn't be the first person I'd set on fire'. 

Surprisingly few recruits ever fall into this category.

“Okay.” But at some point there’ll be actual training, right?

“Andrew is off sick so I’ll buddy you up next week and then we’ll condense the two-week training into one week.”

But again—but there’ll be some training, right?

“I know it’s not the ideal situation…” 

Today’s lesson is brought to you by the letter O. As in: Obviously. Or: Over-exposition.

“But I have faith in you.”

Take note of how many times I'll hear that.