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Friday, January 28, 2011


there is an old rugby song that has the lines:
"i was out of work and on the dole, the working class can kiss my hole."
like many bawdy rugby songs it sounds better when you are singing it or when you have had a few too many to drink.

i had an interview last week, that in itself is a rarity. one of the things i have discovered about looking for work is that it isn't that easy when you are not in work.
(and let me tell you it is even harder to get sorted out in doing voluntary work.)
i thought the interview went well, but along with my total inability to be able to judge a person, unless that are tory wankbags, my inability to tell if interviews go well is non-existent. in fact it reminded me of a day many years ago when i attended the london toy fair - i had wandered on to the hasbro stand because i wanted to look at their new range of batman toys (i'm a geek - so sue me) and i got escorted around by a charming booth babe. i was really pleased she laughed at all my jokes, i felt there was a connection there, i know that if i was a retailer i would have placed a large order with her. it was only later on the tube home i realised it was her job to laugh at my jokes, it was her job to make me feel at ease. that is how good i am at that sort of thing.

today i was at the royal academy, sort of enjoying their large sculpture exhibition when my phone goes. i am not a lover of mobile phones. it took me an age to get to the phone. i missed the call. oh well. if they want me they can call back. that is how i roll.
when i get out of the exhibition i see i have a voice message. sometimes technology is a wonderful thing.
i needed to return the call by 4pm, and at 3.57pm i returned the call. that is how i roll.

upshot of it all is that the interview did go well.
that i now have a job. quite daunting really, in fact i am shitting myself. still waiting on the written confirmation, but as it stands i will soon be an upstanding member of the tax paying community again. that means no more babestation for me, no more late nights, early to bed, early to rise.

there are some other lines to that rugby song and they go like this
"the working class can kiss my arse, i've got the foreman's job at last"
for the moment i sort of understand the sentiment behind the lines, but never fear i will quickly return to being angry pat, especially if andy murray wins the tennis.

right now i am just waiting for the confirmation letter and hoping i didn't misconstrue the phone call and what they really said was: "we wouldn't hire you if you were the last cockney on earth."

time for one last look at babestation (hah just kidding i will have to record it from now on!) 

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