At Least We Have Our Jobs is a feel-good musical about coping with hard times – just what we need at the moment, right? And while it’s set in 2013, on the other side of the COVID 19 divide, there’s a striking number of parallels with life in April 2020.  

Times are tough for Jenny. Her boyfriend has dumped her for her best friend, she’s lost her job because of the recession, she’s stuck at home with her bossy mum. Even the play’s title will take on a sinister ring, as the consolation it offers becomes less credible.

Early on in the play, Jenny does at least find a job. It’s not an interesting job, her boss Harriet is a pompous bully and there’s all the hassles of starting a new job, with new tasks, new people and a new culture. But she makes friends with Nora, and there’s Rawiri who fancies her and seems nice … then she discovers she’s pregnant to her ex, Hugo.

And so that’s the setup. Will Jenny have the baby? Will she tell her mother? What will bastard Hugo say, and do? Can Harriet get any worse? These and similar puzzles make up the rest of the story, the broad theme being: learning to deal with the nasty surprises life has a way of handing us. 

The tone overall is mildly satirical, with the main target being office life. HR people are crazy, the boss is a bitch, look out for the guy with the wandering hands. Don’t use other people’s coffee cups, clean the microwave after using, who knows how to work the video conferencing system? Some of this is a bit dated (what’s a hole-puncher?) but the riff on calling the IT Help desk is as fresh as a daisy.

The dialogue is leavened by original songs which add breadth and colour. The style is easy listening, cocktail lounge / Broadway musical; the material is mostly ironic – flippant, with a few sentimental numbers as well.

At Least We Have Our Jobs has its moments of despair, anger and tears, but the underlying direction affirms that most people are pretty decent and there’s always another opportunity around the corner. I’m okay with that as a general proposition, but it’s not quite convincing dramatically. The play ends in a flurry of loose threads being snipped, knotted or left to dangle in the wind.

Writer Francesca Emms successfully constructs 63 minutes of polished, low-key entertainment out of diverse material and modes. The cast is well up to RNZ radio drama standards, the musical element is well-crafted and the technical side of the production is flawless.

Now is an excellent time to try out this and similar offerings from the RNZ vault. There’s heaps of choice, most of which is local content, and you can listen while you wrangle your sourdough bread into shape. 

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