fine whine

On and off I have fancied myself to be a writer. Over the years I've written a couple stories, but rarely without prompting of some sort or another. Deadlines and assignments provided rudimentary inspiration, but lacking those I found only a dearth of creative ideas. But then just yesterday one struck me, and I'd like to flesh it out. It would be a short story, and I'd carefully craft it to age well at least for the next ten years or so.

That wouldn't be much of a challenge except for the fact that it's about a guy (or gal, it could go either way really) whose frustration with an apparent inability to get a tech job leads inadvertently turns him into a cobbler. That is, a mender of shoes and boots.

It would be an amusing story. The premise is lightly humorous, ironic that the guy (or gal, of course) searching for a "position utilizing technical expertise" ends up doing low-tech but highly-skilled labor. More humor appears more directly in the form of asinine if not outrageous questions asked at one interview. Questions that have nothing to do with technical acumen and everything with, well, something, perhaps. Zen koan-like, but with a demented slant. Like, "If you and your extended family were stranded in a mountain pass by an airplane accident, who would be eaten first and how would it be organized?" or even "Which color crayon does a polar bear draw with?" After one such interview, protagonist would be walking back in the rain (ooh, how clich�d!) and have a sole or heel fall off one shoe, causing dampness and much consternation.

A well-placed significant other or good pal would happen across our protagonist nailing the errant piece back on and then putting the shoe back on, satisfied with a repair well done. Said significant other or pal would then pass this on as an anecdote, and virally it would spread until our surprised protagonist is swamped with FoaF (friend of a friend) shoes needed work. Unwilling to be compensated at first, the protagonist eventually realizes that a comfortable living can be made in a major urban area repairing the shoes of people with lots of disposable income.

And all the while a solitary computer gathers dust in the corner.

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But I don't really feel like writing such a story right now. Let me know if you do, I guess.