NIght Shifts

Never trust email or text replies to your job applications. Trust me when I say they're all frauds.

There are two categories of email and text fraud replies from greedy recruiters. The first range help them to build up their database. Unless you are an Exeter graduate, a Nobel prize runner-up at 23 or John Nash' reincarnation, don't expect accounting, finance and banking HR's call you up just to inform you "how delighted they are to offer you the position". They will arrange 120-candidates team interviews via
Blackberry while ordering a Mediterranean salad at the closest Pret-A-Manger branch store to their office.

Fast, ruthless and incredible symptomatic of the ever changing times, isn't it?
Then you have the crafty and tricky ones, those whose "recruiting competence" is proved by stacks and stacks of resumes, good to fill blanks left by staff members on sick.
A clue you're about to face such a level of incompetency stands in the line saying: "At the moment the vacancy is not available but we'll keep your CV for further applications". It gets pasted on every email body reply you receive, you must have noted it.

Sometimes it looks like vacancies get available very quickly. I still remember when Jamie texted me on a Saturday afternoon, back in November 2009. As the head manager of Shaftesbury Avenue's Bar Rumba club, staff recruitment was one of his duties. Actually I should have raised a brow when receiving his "formal" job appointment, literally saying: "Please cum tonite for a shift. I remember yer applied for a backbar postion last week, didn't ya? Black shirt and pants. Cheers, Jamie".
But I was desperate, alone in London, and hadn't worked for weeks. I needed the money.

I got to Bar Rumba club at 8 o'clock. By that time all you can spot from your yet not sweaty and frantic route on the dark dancing floor are sweathearts couples tenderly chatting about how tenderly sweetheart they are while having a cocktail or two before dinner.
Me and Gonzalo, the other runner-up for the position of "temporary part time 20 hours a week back-bar assistant", are being assigned two opposite sites of the bar: I have the dancefloor and I need to collect any single empty glass, he's behind the counter and has to wash them up.

At 10 pm the tide gets higher and higher. Black pencil ties on immaculate shirts pop up on the dancefloor. As the air gets stickier my job is to cut that air through to pick up and collect as many empty glasses and bottles I can.
Gonzalo is so busy his Argentinian firm glance gets wide open to the left and the right of the counter to check the exact amount of glass piling up on one side and the dishwasher programs on the other. He loses his Antonio Banderas touch for a more British Marty Feldman look.

At midnight Jamie pops out of the office inside of which he was busy chatting with a blondish French.

"You're doing a great job Andrea." - he says - "You passed the 3 hours trial. Now I need you to stay on and help me with this shift through, can you do it?".
Unless I want to feel the thrill of living on the street and going on a forced diet, do I have another choice?

At 1 o'clock I get finally familiar with my exact hourly time schedule. Every fifteen minutes Mark, who's in charge as deputy head manager, tells me how to dust the front lounge entry of the bar. Kaori, the Japanese wardrobe assistant, snatches me in every ten minutes to fill any blank space with purses, coats and scarves that need to be stored free, as a ticket price offer.
Jamie, peeping out to his employees through the ginger hair of his now Swedish partner ,pokes my shoulder every half an hour to remind me that "I'm a good fellow and that I'm doing a bloody good job". Gonzalo goes missing every 20 minutes under a glassware pile.

Three o'clock closing time sounds as a showdown time for my feet, who, previously too busy to bother me with their unheard requests, start spreading their moans and whines about how bad they were treated for the whole night on.
As people start getting out a lurid, greasy and filthy wall of breathed alcohol starts rising up just like laughing gas bombs thrown among Millwall hooligans in a 1988 FA cup aftershow. Either there and now there are people evicted from the battle venue while someone else's in charge to clean up.

At 6 o'clock I crawl out the backdoor exit the way Dante gets out his Inferno trip, except there's no Paradiso for me but only a good early morning stroll up to Tottenham Court to catch a bus taking me home. Jamie greets me telling me "to come back next Monday to sign the contract". I'm knackered but I got the job.

On Monday I text Jamie to have a confirmation of our appointment. Funny enough he doesn't remember who I am and it takes 5 minutes to have his reply.
"Sure. See ya" says the bard, in his close epitaph. On the threshold of the Bar Rumba he opens the gate just to let me in: the whole place, a glossy black pit very close
to a comic book scenario for some Catwoman, looks incredibly different without the pencil ties boys, Kaori, Mark, brooms to dust the lounge entry with and Gonzalo-Feldman's glance.
Jamie gets out of his office where nor French neither Swedish girl are sitting on any chair with two sweaty 20pounds notes in his hand.

"I'm sorry, but the boss was not happy with your performance. Keep the money for your work hours. I'm sorry but the vacancy is not available at the moment and we're not gonna keep your CV".

Itanglesi 1: Rosario Morabito

(Pic. Kate Rodgers)

Dalla provincia calabrese alla ribalta internazionale della moda tra Londra, Parigi, S. Paolo. Da una realta' chiusa come Villa San Giovanni, in provincia di Reggio Calabria, alle passerelle di alcuni tra i maggiori fashion designer mondiali, come Vivienne Westwood o Burberry.
Il tutto scandito da incroci dettati dal destino, anni di lavoro instancabile e una ferma convinzione nei propri mezzi.

E' la storia di Rosario Morabito, 30 anni, a Londra dal 2007, reporter di moda per alcune delle maggiori pubblicazioni italiane e da oggi anche imprenditore del settore grazie alla propria creazione "Fashion At Large" (per maggiori dettagli www.fashionatalarge.com, ndr)

"Fashion At Large e' un' agenzia internazionale di produzione contenuti editoriali nel campo moda e lifestyle - mi spiega Rosario, sorseggiando un bicchiere di vino rosso in un caffe' di Brick Lane, nella trendy East London - Il progetto consiste nel soddisfare il cliente con contenuti editoriali audio, video, web o cartacei su moda e lifestyle. Il valore aggiunto e' dato da una rete di collaboratori e professionisti gia' presente e operativa in alcune città strategiche del mercato, tanto in Europa, a Parigi e Londra, quanto negli USA a San Franscisco,passando per l'Italia, con Milano e Roma, e il Sud America, a San Paolo. Cosi' facendo - aggiunge Rosario - la rete puo' lavorare in assoluta autonomia e liberta' puntando sul telelavoro per abbattere i costi di viaggi e spostamenti".

Veri punti cardine del professionismo "made in UK", secondo Rosario, che negli ultimi 3 anni nella capitale inglese ha imparato tanto. "Tutto merito di Londra - dice con sicurezza - che mi ha permesso di costruirmi un curriculum di contatti, conoscenze ed esperienze tali da poter realizzare il mio progetto a soli tre anni dal mio arrivo. Non credo che in Italia avrei avuto le stesse opportunità".


Quando nel marzo 2007 decide di trasferirsi a Londra, Rosario e' un neolaureato in Scienze della comunicazione all'Universita' di Roma/ La Sapienza con alcune piccole esperienze editoriali alle spalle.
A spingerlo in Inghilterra e' un sogno: affermarsi come giornalista di moda. Per realizzarlo si perfeziona con vari corsi alla prestigiosa Central Saint Martins, mantenendosi con un lavoro part time al The Shop at Bluebird, concept store di lusso nel quartiere di Chelsea.

"Un posto interessante anche per gli incontri che si potevano fare - racconta Rosario. Un pomeriggio riconobbi tra i clienti Fiona Golfar, allora editor at large di Vogue Uk. Le chiesi consigli su come entrare nel settore, lei mi prese con se' a Vogue per uno stage che iniziai nel marzo 2008, una volta terminati i corsi alla St. Martin".

A Vogue Rosario impara molto. "Tutto, direi. Ho imparato che la moda e' un business, tanto nel confezionare un prodotto quanto nel venderlo, servirlo o idearlo. Che i professionisti sono tutti trattati allo stesso modo e che gli scenari da 'Il diavolo veste Prada' in Inghilterra proprio non esistono. Gli stagisti portavano i caffè alle redattrici, ovvio, ma accadeva anche il contrario. In generale lo sfruttamento delle risorse umane senza sbocchi nè regole precise non trova spazio negli ambienti di lavoro di questa città".

Un anno e tante collaborazioni piu' tardi (il magazine Tatler e la rubrica "Diary Pages" per l'Official Ferrari Magazine) anche l'Italia si accorge di lui.

"Nel gennaio 2009 fui chiamato a collaborare a Fashion on Paper, un festival di magazine di moda indipendenti organizzato da AltaRoma. Per me fu un'ulteriore opportunita' di entrare in contatto con molti professionisti, tra cui alcune riviste di settore che mi proposero di collaborare". Oggi, a un anno di distanza Rosario lavora stabilmente come corrispondente dalle fashion week di San Paolo, Roma e Londra per un quotidiano nazionale, tiene una rubrica su una rivista di settore riuscendo, talvolta, ad aiutare altri professionisti che preferiscono l'estero all'Italia, dove non vedono molte opportunità.

"Ho conosciuto Maurizio Fiorino, fotografo calabrese di 27 anni che ora sta lavorando molto bene a New York ed e' apprezzato anche da Asia Argento, ed ho voluto raccontarne la storia: i nuovi talenti ci sono, bisogna solo aiutarli a non farsi calpestare dai dinosauri".

Nel chiudere l'intervista, Rosario non rinuncia a parlare dell'Italia. "Mi manca - dice - soprattutto nella cultura, nella mia famiglia o in amicizie ormai a distanza. Ma per ora resto a Londra, che e' ancora una citta' al centro del mondo, a poche ore di volo da tutto: Amsterdam, Parigi, Milano, Berlino. I servizi funzionano, le regole vengono rispettate da tutti e si scommette sui giovani seriamente. Ma intendo sicuramente tornare, e dare il mio contributo all'inversione di tendenza".

Everybody's fine. And more importantly, De Niro does.

Let's call it THE I-Factor, where the "I" must stand for Italian.

Kirk Jones' 2010 remake of Italian 1990 Giuseppe Tornatore's Stanno Tutti Bene (as the original film title said), now topically called Everybody's Fine, is worth the try, no matter how low estimated remakes have been in latest cinema history.

But don't worry, because you won't be seeing any freaky Tom Cruise and dumb sight
Penelope Cruz on the screen, playing the unlucky Alejandro Amenábar's retrial of Abre los ojos, called Vanilla Sky.

Starring Robert De Niro as a widowed father-of-two grown up girls (Drew Barrymore and Kate Beckinsale) willing to catch up with them throughout his last lifetime years, Everybody's Fine won't make you regret the likes of Italian old fashioned mascalzone Marcello Mastroianni, who starred in the original movie.

Jones' no less than excellent attempt delivers an unveiled soft and smooth De Niro, shaping his wrinkles on his face not to accomplish Martin Scorsese's requests to play a worn out gangster role(The Godfather II, Goodfellas, Casino, Analyze This and Analyze That just to mention any piece of Soprano-holics syllabus) but to draw close to the late 2002's About Schmidt's Jack Nicholson image, leaving the main room to his beauty colleagues and being content with featuring the film behind the scene.

Cause De Niro, like Nicholson, is a top one. One of those who, like in all the many gangster roles he been acting in, knows exactly when to leave, doing it with style.

The House of the rising Sun?

Italian and London based legal councilor Alessandro Gaglione speaks out over the Capital economics in 2010, its latest history and its recovery chances

Some people look naturally inclined to what they do for living. When I meet Mr. Alessandro Gaglione in his law firm at the third floor of a building between Piccadilly and Swallow St. I realize why in the last eight years he's become a successful Italian legal counsellor in London and why I have not.

The secret is all in his smile. He doesn't stop smiling when the pouring rain receives us on our way out. He keeps smiling even when he's clearly dripping wet, on the threshold of the building, just a few steps from St. James' Church Market. He smiles when we cross the street within an inch of a cab rushing off at the green lights, well concentrated on his personal storytelling: the old days at the
law school in Italy, his first approach to London and his ordinary life in a semi-detached house in Belgravia.

When we get into Caffe' Nero we have a double shot latte and a double espresso, even if we ordered a cappuccino and an americano to some waitress who, at the moment, is probably looking for another job somewhere else. Notwithstanding his smiling resists and is all for his wife Sandra, who's recently come down with a sheer case of sale-flu, as diagnosed by her Massimo Dutti, Giorgio Armani and Burberry's MD's in their Bond Street 'surgeries'.

Caught in his natural smiling and hearty welcome I almost forget my personal lifetime theory about compulsive grinning as the quickest way to help side-mouth wrinkles shape up on my face. Taking his life easy, even when it doesn't look easy at all, Alessandro Gaglione proves himself as on of the best 'managers of manners' I've ever known, which basically says much about his professional attitude and his skills. Those skills made him one of the most important legal and business negotiators between Italy and UK, as Mr. Gaglione is specifically landed by Italian companies to
approach new markets opportunities in the United Kingdom. And, while having a conversation in a coffee bar with a journalist, to explain why London has lost much of his power in less than a year and a half.

"Ten years ago London what's a sort of Dubai and finding a job was an easy task. - says Mr. Gaglione - The stock market was at its best with the company shares gaining more and more value thanks to a persisting faith in the market itself. It was the year 2000 and London was the Checkpoint Charlie of the free trade for its proximity both to Europe and the U.S., for its technological development and for the continuous cash flowing on the London Stock Exchange. When in 2002/2003 all of a sudden China woke up, becoming all out of the blue an economic power itself also the British industry entered a new era, with the U.K. mills working at a cracking pace to keep
coming with the Far East demand. London had never known such a golden age. Everything changed in 2007 - admits Gaglione - with all the sub-prime loan hysteria from the U.S. and the following slump of the major stock market economies, including London.

From that moment on more and more people came back to their countries after losing their job even if the worst still had to come: the lowest point was reached last September 15 of 2008, when the investment banking of Lehmann
Bros. went bankrupt.".

According to Mr. Gaglione, now it's still pretty tough and the market conditions don't look so good for anybody. "The problem with the majority of British businessmen is that, no matter how openminded they can appear, they're still very conservative and blinded towards other countries investment opportunities. People don't realise how hard it is for someone who's not British to enter this market and prove his skills. It takes time and a great PR spirit to lead clients, who are UK companies, to trust you. But it will be hard still for a while - adds Gaglione - because London needs to find a new identity after the big lost of credibility following the first banking and stock market earthquakes from 2007 and 2008. That's why while Italy, France and Germany and all the continental Europe will slightly recover part of their losses in 2010 and 2011 while it's up to London the highest price to pay".

Despite temporary losing their "animal spirit" and their legacy of the old days of stock capitalism, U.K. businessmen who invested everything in the housing business do still have a way out. "Yes - confirms Mr. Gaglione - because if the West's been beaten up, Russia and Eastern countries are still the leader of the market. Many investors are reporting good incomes from an encouraging number of deals and trades in the housing sector, carried on with Russian millionaires and buyers. And, once
again, Italy's involved, as the houses at issue are all old farmhouses and rural homes in Tuscany, Umbria and Emilia Romagna, in the mid Italy's countryside, and turned into mansions and villas to Russian buyers. Despite the great slacking trend of the housing market, these mansions are way out everyone's league that their value keeps on rising".

Up in The Air January 21 tutorial review "A" marked.

When in ten years Jason Reitman's Up in the Air will be recalled by critics, 2009 will be remembered as the 1929 of the Noughties and Reitman as the man who gave that mess a human touch.


As already seen in his previous movies, 2005's Thank You for Smoking and 2007's neat Juno, the director lays out the same plan: to puzzle the beholder with a load of preconceptions as a gladiator would do tossing a fistful of dust against his opponent in the arena, just to find the best moment to launch his final attack.

Don't make mistakes then and don't fool yourself with the apparent lack of dignity of Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) who plays the classic shark in a suit while he cross-flies the U.S. from Omaha to Miami via St. Louis as a "career transition" counselor, in other words an employee sacker, "landed by companies who don't have the guts to lay off their own employees".

Being on the road up to 320 days a year ("which means I spend 45 miserable days at home", he explains) he's become used to the so called Airlife, the business-class commuter life, which includes "cheap sushi" as a meal, cabin seats as a couch, casual acquaintances as friends and loneliness as a way of life.

He actually enjoys it so much he couldn't live otherwise. But Bingham's world and aims will be put in discussion by the young and naive Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick), the company beginner who needs her first training on the road, and by Alex Goran, a casual acquaintance meant to become something more than "casual".

Up in the Air represents a vivid puzzle of shattered humanity lost among relationship, jobs, family bonds and careers: it's up to the beholder to find the right placing of every single piece.

La grande truffa del drag and drop

Chiunque abbia inventato il calendario bicolore e' un genio. Il nero sta per i giorni feriali, il rosso per quelli festivi. Il margine di errore nella ricerca di una ricorrenza, civile o cristiana che sia, si riduce di parecchio, finendo col riguardare solo i daltonici.

Londra non dovrebbe fare a storia a se', il sistema e' universale, eppure durante le ultime tre lezioni la sensazione che qualcuno alla LSJ si sia portato avanti coi bagagli e abbia cominciato ad armeggiare anzitempo con il navigatore satellitare ha preso piede. D'altra parte servono intere settimane per ammaestrare a dovere un GSM anglofono che non ne vuole proprio saperne di sillabare correttamente Gstaad o altre ostiche localita' svizzere.

Alle allegre burattinate di Carty ed Evans si e' aggiunto il fascino color pastello di Gary Moskowitz, un passato come free lance per il Los Angeles Times e il San Francisco Chronicle, un presente da corrispondente londinese per Globespotters, blog itinerante
del New York Times e per Intelligent Life, magazine di lifestyle abbinato all'Economist.

Il programma ripercorre il calvario desolato di Internet research di Peter Carty. La poverta' di contenuti e il rischio di "perdere" la classe fanno capolino dietro ogni angolo, minuto dopo minuto, ogniqualvolta Moscowitz chieda se ci siano dubbi o domande, al ritmo di 4 o 5 volte ogni mezz'ora. Come un Funari qualsiasi che lascia parlare il pubblico quanno je fanno male i piedi e se deve riposa'.

Le ore scorrono fluide come la marmellata sulla carta vetro, anche se e' ingiusto non riconoscere alla new entry il merito di aver indirettamente migliorato questo blog suggerendo al sottoscritto, Bertoldo della tecnologia, come sviluppare gli hyperlink sul testo html del post che state leggendo. Un passaggio prezioso che, a dir la verita', viene spiegato in lungo e in largo da qualsiasi blog, sito web o forum sull'argomento.

Tremilanovecentocinquanta pound per sei mesi sono £1,975 a trimestre, che suddivisi per 48 lezioni a trimestre fa poco piu' di 41 pound a lezione. In pratica poco meno di un biglietto in curva per vedere il Chelsea a Stamford Bridge. Con la piccola differenza che il Chelsea gioca 90 minuti, Moscowitz ne gioca 5 per poi palleggiare a bordocampo i restanti 245, illuminato dai riflessi di una Los Angeles e una San Francisco che il pubblico vede solo dagli schermi.

Professionisti Seri(f)

Questione di trattini. I biografi riescono a riempirli di vite ed esistenze. Pensateci: John Lennon, 1940 - 1980, tutto dai Beatles al bed-in in quel segno "meno". I subeditor invece ne fanno una questione di stile. In Inghilterra i subeditor rabberciano, reincollano, reimpastano i pezzi dei free lance, dei redattori o dei giornalisti prima della messa in pagina, occupandosi di scegliere titolo, sottotitolo e quant'altro. In Italia, quanto meno nei giornali locali, si specializzano nel prenderti a male parole al telefono un minuto dopo aver aperto l' email contenente il pezzo, condendo il tutto con qualche sano moccolo. Paese che vai... .

Succede che nelle prime due ore di "Subediting 2" l'insigne professor Gavin Evans (The Guardian, Men's Health, diversi libri all'attivo sul mondo della boxe) accompagni per mano gli studenti per i viottoli del dubbio amletico "Serif o Sans Serif?". Per chi non sa di che sto parlando, Serif e Sans Serif sono due diversi stili di carattere, comunemente inseriti nel pacchetto font di qualsiasi programma di scrittura multimediale, tanto in Microsoft Word come in Open Office. Secondo il Vangelo di Evans i due divergono per il vezzoso uso dei trattini giustapposti ai lati di "T", "M" "N" e cosi' via. Serif, vanesio, agli orpelli ci tiene, facendo bella mostra di se' dal masthead (l'intestazione...) del Daily Telegraph, di Repubblica e dei giornali piu' tradizionali. Tutto il contrario del rigido e pragmatico Sans Serif, che di coprirsi le spalle di mostrine non ci pensa nemmeno. D'altra parte e' il carattere dell'intestazione di Metro, la freepress piu' diffusa in tutta Londra, disponibile presso qualsiasi stazione della Tube e immediatamente riconoscibile per il carattere diretto dei contenuti (X Factor, squartamenti e conto alla rovescia per la fine del mondo) avvolti in un comodo cartoccio mini tabloid. Insomma, 45 minuti cosi', dopo i preamboli da "Ieri, oggi e domani" sulle prime pagine di 150 anni fa, di oggi e, chissa', del web di domani. Quando ci si diverte il tempo e' talmente tiranno che verrebbe voglia di chiedere i danni in segreteria.