My First Cult

Preface

Do you ever just go and accidentally join a cult?

No? Just me then.

It was the year of 2017. I, a fresh faced English graduate with 2 years of Marketing experience to my name, rocked up to an interview for a brand new job at "a rapidly growing business group". (Aren't they all?)

My first indication something was a bit weird was the fact every single car in the car park was reversed in backwards. Every single one. And not only this, but they were all the same car. A neat line of gleaming, metallic clones.

(There was one giant blue car that stood out a mile among the rest. Everything about it screamed 'terrible, garish mid-life crisis mistake'. Little did I know at the time, this was the car of the one and only Giles Parsons. A visionary. A grumpy sod. "An abnormally high buttocks". An absolute legend.)

Being my usual, messy self, I already began to upset the apple cart by pulling into a space bonnet first. I also couldn't claim to have such a nice, clean car as the rest of them. In fact, if I'm being honest, my car was (and still is) a disgrace.

We're talking dusty, battered, bird crapped-on old granny car. I'm rather fond of it, but I'm reliably informed by everyone else it's "an embarrassment" and "looks like the Popemobile, but if it was shitter".

So, with a completely misplaced sense of confidence given the state of both my parking and car, I gathered my things and headed to the reception door.

-

My second indication I might be inadvertently joining a cult came in the form of a religious book* sat next to the Guest Signing In sheet. I noticed it immediately, eyed it for a brief moment, thought it was weird, then picked up a pen and signed myself in.

I thought nothing more about it because, and I can't stress this enough, I'm an idiot.

My third indication came in the form of not one, not two, but three identically dressed men. Blue shirts, black trousers, black, shiny shoes. They came down the stairs beside reception, gave me slightly startled looks, then scurried out the door towards their three identical cars.

I watched them go with a quizzical look on my young, innocent, naive-to-the-existence-of-cults baby face. (How times have changed.)

The loud declaration of my name jogged me back to reality, and I turned to see a slender looking man with glasses and a bushy beard extending a hand towards me. He looked nothing like the other three men, yet radiated a similar feeling of painful awkwardness.

Tragically for myself, my sanity and my pride, I took his hand and gave the kind of beaming smile a person can only give when they don't know they're about to join a cult.

"Rob, so pleased to finally meet you!"

"You too," Rob said gruffly, giving a rather limp shake of my hand, "shall we?" He nodded towards a meeting room.

"Absolutely, can't wait!" I replied.

And with those simple three words, I began my fateful journey with my first (and hopefully only) cult.

Soon I'd be explaining the Irish potato famine to a young woman who thought it was still ongoing. I'd be fighting an old battleaxe of a woman over a single pen from the stationery cupboard. I'd even explain the colour spectrum to one particularly challenged gentleman, who seemed to think a green logo would show up just fine on a similarly green shirt.

There would be ill-timed BBQ's. There would be hundreds of thousands of pounds pissed up the wall. There would be mayhem, laughs and tears.

One day, Big V(eronica) would actually, finally, compliment my outfit, and I'd feel like I could die happy.

But all of that's to come.

What a roller coaster you've strapped yourself into.

Hold onto your butts, and here we go.

-

Scrawls Notes

*I've decided not to divulge the exact nature or name of this group of people in my book (similarly, everyone's names are changed). All you need to know is, like most cults, it has it's roots in religion. And while they're completely mental, this circus of a workplace has also given me a livelihood and more laughs and amusement than I thought possible. At the end of the day, this book wouldn't exist without them, and they should be allowed to live their lives how they want to, without interference from my scrawlings. Hope you all understand. And, if you don't, you can "go forth and do one" as Giles puts it.