I CALL INTO SORCHA'Sgaff during the week and I end up hearing one of the weirdest conversations I've ever heard? Ronan is in the kitchen, interviewing Sorcha for a job. At least that's what it sounds like.
“Can you think of a perroblem,” he goes, “that you’ve encounthered in the past at woork and tell me perhaps how you dealt with that perroblem?”
"Well, firstly," she goes, "I'm really glad you asked me that. My previous job, as I told you, was as the owner, manager and chief buyer for Sorcha Circa, a boutique specialising in both contemporary and vintage lines. I've always believed that the best way of dealing with any challenge is to, like, meet it head on? So, just as an example, a couple of years ago, I was supposed to be the first shop in Ireland to stock this – oh my God – amazing, sassy, red lace skater frock that went really well even with just gold gladiators.
“Anyway, I’d told everyone – including Image magazine – that no one else in Ireland was going to be, like, stocking it. The next thing I heard, there was a shop in, like, Ashford that was supposedly going to have them as well. I thought, ‘Oh! My God! They’re going to make, like, a total liar out of me?’ So I rang up the supplier and I said, ‘Okay, I’ll double the size of my initial order if you promise not to give them to that other shop.’ And that’s exactly what ended up happening – I got them exclusively.”
I push the kitchen door. They’re both sitting at the table, one opposite the other. She’s wearing her good Alexander McQueen trouser suit. And he’s just having a flick through her CV, nodding, you’d have to say, thoughtfully.
I’m just like, “What! The fock?” Sorcha just flicks her hand at me, as if to say, not now, Ross! “Very good,” he just goes. “One mower question. Do you have any weaknesses, do you think?”
She smiles at him. “That’s a very good question and thank you for asking it. I can be a bit of a perfectionist? If I do something – oh my God – it has to be done right. And I tend to expect the same standard of care and attention to detail from everyone I work with? Also, sometimes I can be, like, impatient? If I’m given a deadline by which to have a task or project completed, I tend to work flat-out to try to get it finished ahead of time?”
“Okay,” I go, “I’ll refer you to my earlier question, which still stands, by the way. What the fock?”
“I have a job interview,” Sorcha goes. “Ronan is just helping me to prepare.”
"Hey, that's great," I go. Then I turn to Ronan. " Hangon – it's not with Buckets of Blood, is it?" Buckets of Blood is his mate, the debt collector.
Ronan rolls his eyes. “No,” he goes, “it’s not with Buckets of Blood.”
“I’m not saying who it’s with,” Sorcha goes, “because I don’t want to, like, jinx it? But I’m very excited.”
I’m there, “I can hear it in your voice.” She wanders over to the fireplace and checks her lippy in the mirror. She looks well, it has to be said.
"I had an – oh my God – amazing chat with my dad, Ross. Okay, I'm still upset about them selling the house. Of course I am. I mean, there's, like, a tyre swing in the gorden that's been there since I was, like, a little girl? I mean, I can't even bear the thoughtof someone else's daddy pushing them on it. But my dad is right when he says we can't just bury our heads in the sand and pretend it's still 2004."
I’m there, “You’re possibly right.”
“Okay,” she goes. “Wish me luck.” And me and Ronan, at the same time, go, “Good luck.”
We stay sitting at the kitchen table. Ro comes here sometimes to do his homework, see. I can't believe he's sitting his Junior Cert next year. Where do the years go? Hehas, like, his books spread out and he's, like, scribbling away furiously.
“What’s that?” I happen to go – just showing an interest.
He’s like, “Maths. Ine trying to woork out the coordinate geometry formula for this triangle here.” I just nod and pull a face as if to say, hey, we’ve all been there – which I focking haven’t, of course.
“Then I’ve to prove anutter theorm using congruent triangles. Don’t woody, Rosser, Ine not gonna ast you to help me.” We both crack our holes laughing at that one. I have to admit, though – I do suddenly breathe easier.
Anyway, an hour later, we’re still sitting there when the house phone suddenly rings. It ends up being Sorcha.
“Ross,” she goes, “do you know is there any champagne in the house?”
I'm there, "I doubtit, Sorcha. I don't think I've tasted the stuff since 2008."
“Can you pop out to O’Brien’s and pick up a bottle? Tonight, we’re celebrating.” I’m there, “Yeah, no probs. What are we supposedly celebrating, by the way? I’m just wondering would prosecco do the same job.”
“I got it, Ross!”
“Okay, what are you talking about?
“The job I went for.”
“That’s great,” I go. I’m actually genuinely happy for her? “Although you still haven’t told me what the actual job is.”
“Ross,” she goes – and this without any hint of laughter at all – “you are now talking to the manager of the new Euro Hero discount store in the Powerscourt Townhouse Centre.”
rossocarrollkelly.ie, twitter.com/rossock