My Job Interview at the French Watch Factory

A short time ago I put up a post called "Show and/or Tell Your Most Obscure Watch Brand." Many thanks to all the readers who put up photos of fascinating watches with interesting histories. I really enjoyed all of them. In checking out some of these obscure brands, I received a link to a company website that really intrigued me, so much in fact, that I was determined to get a job there.

The company was Pequignet in France, near the Swiss border. They have several different watch lines, my favorite of which is the Attitude Collection. I needed a watch of mine to wear for this (real live actual) Watch Journey. My inky black dial Casio Edifice EFV-100's masculine look would impress the HR Dept., or maybe I could just wear my big Seiko Neo-Classic Quartz SGEH49P2 with its cosmopolitan rubber rally strap. But I knew as well as my name which watch would have to go to France with me. It could be none other than Mademoiselle Tissot, she of the large size and erratic second hand, but also the most urbane and glamorous. Besides, she's always complaining I never take her anywhere. And she's the only watch I have that can speak with a phony French accent.

I decided to leave for France right away, live there forever, and sell everything I had except my car and Mademoiselle Tissot. But that would take too long. But then a couple of weeks ago, I saw a video by Mr. Beast on You Tube. He's that young guy who made a jillion dollars making videos where he performs astonishingly generous acts for people. I saw his video where he buys a new house, orders a pizza, and for a tip, gives the pizza man the house. So I ordered up my own pizza, gave the driver the keys to my house when he got there, and set off for France.

You might think this was a fun little trip, but it was not. First, there was the price of Joe Biden gas. And nobody told me about an ocean. But we finally arrived at the Pequignet factory.

At first, I thought my job interview was going well. The French guys seemed to be amused at my swinish American mannerisms, and Mademoiselle Tissot looked just fabulous, all 42mm of her, although her jittery second hand was all over the map. I hoped the French guys wouldn't notice. But then they asked the question I certainly wasn't expecting.

"What watchmaking skills do you have?" I said that I had none. "Then why have you come all this way?"

"It's your advertising" I replied. "I'm especially impressed by the copy for your Attitude line. Listen to this." And then I read the exact words on the Pequignet website from the screen of my cell phone: "The Attitude is available in a Provence Orange version, inspired by the warmth of the City of Nice. This tangy model reflects the vibrant energy and bewitching beauty of the famous <Promenade des Anglais>. Let yourself be seduced by this bold radiant design, which evokes the playful spirit and gentle way of life of this Mediterranean destination."

The French big shots did not seem to share my enthusiasm. What is your point, they said.

"Don't you see?" I shouted. "You took a plain dial with no texture or design, nothing but the color orange, and made up a whole watch back story about it. And look . . . look at this . . . you have your white dial model "inspired" by the French seaside resort St. Tropez for the 'white of its sailboats'. It's just a plain white dial! And I used to think Grand Seiko could lay it on thick about its dials being "inspired" by cobblestones, or snowfall, or cherry blossoms when it was probably really just the wallpaper or carpet design or perhaps the advice of the coffee shop delivery boy."

They still weren't getting it.

"I want to work for you" I said desperately. "All my life I've wanted to write stuff about watches that sounded inspiring and impressive but didn't really mean anything. This is right up your alley. I could write this kind of copy for you!"

The French Head Banana sighed. There is already a website in America for that, he said. It is called - how do you say - The Watch Crunch. We have no need of your services. You may post your drivel there.

And then I was escorted out by the guard from Security, who I thought had a strange resemblance to Inspector Clouseau. Back on the street I wondered what to do next. I didn't have a place to stay. And I couldn't go home because I gave my house to the pizza guy. So I guess I'll just have to get a job here. Good thing there are lots of McDonald's in France. "Voulez-vous des frites avec ca?"