The Good Interview.

Something shocking happened this morning, you're going to have to get a glass of something and find a supportive chair to sit in before you read further...

...I had a good interview.

There, told you it was shocking.

This mornings interview had been arranged prior to Christmas; I feared I might allow my nerves and general attachment to worry, spoil the festive season but I managed to have a very good Christmas. Everything went happily along Christmas day, the cooking turned out fine, the roast pots came out crispy and the meat was cooked to a 't'. I got some nice pressies, yes, Christmas day was perfect so much so the thought of the oncoming interview did not even cross my mind. Boxing day was also clear of any worry despite being at my parents that day, (what a worry they can be), so this Christmas was the best in ages. Even the universal remote that I had brought, (see previous post about my TV not working), miraculously decided to work.

So, today arrives. I had done the usually, read about the company, made a mental note of the interesting bits on their, 'About Us' page on their website; generally made sure I knew what they did. I was calm, uncommonly so, not a hint of stress - it helped that I already felt a little relaxed towards the person that was to interview me, (we had already exchanged several e-mails and had arrived at first name terms and, almost, chatty notes), which seems to have helped. I knew where the place was, as its near where my guy works, so had no fears about getting there, no panic about getting lost and being late no, I knew where I had to go and how to get there.

I arrived in time, meet with a friendly welcome and was given a very interesting tour around the place. I asked loads of questions, was chatty, (not like me), and relaxed, considering the situation. Sitting down, we had a nice chat, further questions, the usual things and I sat there thinking that for the first time in ages I might just be 'clicking' with someone. No sweaty hands and no tensed up muscles, a small miracle!

The interview ended well and I left the place feeling close to bursting in to happy tears. Was it possible I could do this interview thing, was it possible that I didn't have to worry myself so much that I gave myself chest pains, was there hope?

Anyway, I should hear the outcome early nest week. I am not banking on anything despite the fact I felt the interview went well, after all, one persons, 'going well' is another persons, 'fuck up'! I'll shall just allow myself to bask in the lovely relief of a interview that feels as if it's gone well, a rare thing...(happy sigh).


You and me both Charlie, me old mate!

Chrimbo TV.

Thank fuck I didn't miss these: -

Wallace and Gromit - A Matter of Loaf and Death.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00g8hbw/Wallace_and_Gromit_A_Matter_of_Loaf_and_Death/


Blackadder Rides Again
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00gbjgm/Blackadder_Rides_Again/

and, off course,
Doctor Who - The Next Doctor
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00gd1mr/Doctor_Who_Series_4_The_Next_Doctor/

You can, usually rely upon Aunty Beeb to do the 'job' at Chrimbo time!

That's Not All Folks!

I had planned that yesterdays blog would be it, until the yuletide had finished with us. The thing is yesterday, I was happy.

A big thing is made about being happy but, in my experience, if you start to go around with a grin on your face, for genuine happiness to show itself in, lets say, singing Christmas songs to yourself and being all chirpy welllll...you could be making a mistake. I certainly was.

Whenever I am actually happy, you know, one of those rare brilliant days where things just work out, where nothing goes wrong and you just feel well, happy then shite is guaranteed to be around the corner.

As the song goes, 'my telly's gone bung!'.

Not totally 'bung', actually the remote is refusing to work despite new batteries and the universal remote, (I paid out on this morning), ain't helping. Fortunately there is a panel on the TV itself which I can use but you know, it's the principle of the thing plus the fact the first repair bill of 2009 has booked itself.

Totally frecked off - oh well, I'll still be able to watch the Chrimbo TV and, on the brighter side, my arse won't have a chance to glue itself to the sofa which is a good thing as I intend to eat a lot of mince pies!

http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=33:wpfixc8aldje

When A Child Is Born.

I am not a religious person - if I was to admit to any believe, any faith, than it would be the believe in logic and the faith in common sense.

So, the whole Jesus thing...lets try applying some logic and sense to this. Firstly, we have to take the story of Jesus down to bare bones that is, strip away the religious aspects and view it as a simple tale about a person.
There is no reason why a carpenter called Joseph and his wife Mary could not have a child equally, no reason why that child couldn't be a boy who they named Jesus. That makes sense it's completely believable. Now, here come a couple of problems firstly the fact Mary was supposed to be a virgin. That's a big-un, I mean biological that is impossible, a virgin can not give birth, (21st century medicine may argue that), the whole pregnant thing requires nay, DEMANDS male participation and if that wasn't important enough a woman giving birth er, unbroken, (lacking a more medical phrase), would hurt...somewhat.

Secondly - God. This is a HUGE issue if you don't believe in him, (I use 'him' to simplify things), because he has a big part in this as Jesus is in fact, supposed to be his biological son, flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood and all that. That means Joseph is not, actually, the father of Jesus more like a stand in as God can't really be 'on-hand'. This is all fine if you are a believer and good for you if you are because that is a lot to believe in. Unfortunately neither of these 'problems' have any sense or logic to them which, after all, is the whole point of faith. Having faith means you can get over this lack of sense and logic, you bypass all that because your faith means you can believe that Jesus could be born of a virgin mother and, that God is his true father.

If I go back to the bare bones, if I view Jesus as the son of a carpenter and his wife than I can believe. This is good because than I can harbour the notion that this child grew up, that he went on to do good things maybe not miracles, (what would have qualified as a miracle in those times I wonder?), that he tried to encourage people to be better. There's sense in that, it's possible because people do, sometimes, do good things, people do try to help others be better. Yes, I can do that, I can believe that a carpenters son tried to make things better, it's entirely logically and I can sign up for that!

So, for those of you humbugging the whole Jesus notion, just try it my way - take out the whole religious point of view and try and see him as a man who tried to make things better.

Happy Christmas and here's hoping for a better New Year for us all.

Job Centres Are The Portals To Hell.

Every two weeks I have to make the trip down to my local job centre to speak to a job centre person. It's usually the same person who sits behind a desk looking smug, plainly knowing that their job is save due to the shit the rest of us are in - if I'm lucky they have remembered my name, generally my luck is out.

Walking in to the Job Centre is depressing enough but what is worse, is when you have to go upstairs - yes upstairs, where those out of work for more than six months are sent, those who are no longer allowed job seekers allowance and aren't entitled to a penny if their other half is in gainful employment. The doomed...and aren't we made to feel it.

The uncaring person behind the desk, views you with a sigh, clearly you are failing because you should have taken that shite job cleaning in that factory, never mind that you have over eighteen years experience in your profession and you don't think working a six hour week at below minimum wage, is worth doing. No, you should be grateful that there are jobs out there, the fact they are either, jobs you have no experience at or, the qualifications for is beside the point, (I should have studied to be a web designer, I missed out there!), or that it's some shitty job that you know you'll walk out of before an hour is up because you value your sanity too much. You sign the piece of paper they hand you, to prove you can get your arse to the dreaded place and leave, a cloud of uselessness raining down on your sorry head.

Job Centres fucking, bloody, portals to Hell!


YOU should see how it feels Gordon fucking Brown!

Blue Christmas.

I am depressed.

Completely.

Frecking doomed.

Wondering why the freck I'm bothering...


The unemployment figures are not good - they are heading to the two million point with the loud accomplishment of a raspberry being blown. The spittle is landing on many heads leaving a horrible, sticky, residue in it's wake. What makes it worse is that the affected heads, generally, belong to the innocent and wretched...namely me - okay, maybe not 'innocent' in my case but certainly wretched.

I made another visit to the gov.uk website - it isn't something I like doing but yesterdays news mentioned something about further training for the likes of me so, I braved another look. I sat there, reading the guff, and felt my spirits sink to my feet - I was looking for some straight forward help but all I got was a feeling akin to trying to swim through syrup. The reason I am unemployed is not my fault but I feel that it is, thanks to the stigma attached to being out of work and, the lack of any actual care from those who are supposed to help you.

It is clear that the situation is going to get worse - they are talking about further big name employers facing trouble in the new year - so, are we all, (the jobless), just going to be labelled with the negative stigma and left to rot? It seems so so, those of you who do have a job especially a decent job, count yourself lucky because you are become one of the fortunate.


You don't know the half of it Elvis, me old mucker!

It's Begining To Look A Lot Like Christmas.

There we were, (my other half and me), putting up the Christmas decorations last Saturday afternoon. He had braved the loft, (climbing up the steps in his Mr Grumpy slippers), and found the aged old boxes containing the equally, aged old decorations. For years we have been saying that 'next Christmas' we would get new decorations, like Hell - there was always something that happened to make money short so that we could not afford them. This year, me being made redundant was the latest in, 'something that happened' so, there we were, him handing the boxes down to me, both of us muttering about the same old tatty decorations.

I tackled decorating the dinning room while he, faced the untangling of the lights. One set was frecked so we were down to the one box of lights - could be worse. Picking out the best of the hanging decorations and the tinsel I managed to make the dinning room look half decent. With some further careful choices the front room became Christmas-fied. Even my skull, (who lives on top of a CD rack), entered into the spirit with a Santa hat on his head.

We viewed our work and came to the conclusion that it was a job well done but that we REALLY SHOULD get some new decorations next year...will that pig ever fly?!

With that in mind lets drive Paul O'Grady to insanity...

Christmas Music.

No, I won't apologise for the Christmas player, (points to the right hand side of the blog). Flip forward to find a song that doesn't drive you nuts and get into the sodding spirit of the occasion!

Oh Santa, A Ac Adaptor Would Just Be Lovely...

The last few days have not been good - it started when, as I plugged the power lead into my laptops ac adaptor, a buzzing, spark like sound was uttered forth. Sighing loudly I sunk back in my chair and grumbled at my boyfriend - between the two of us we decided that it was the power lead and not, the ac adaptor that was the problem although, I did have doubts - with my luck it was a miracle it wasn't, (censored so not to tempt fact), because that would have meant I would have to hurt someone.

I searched eBay and found myself a cheap, clover leaf power lead and within a few days, it was in my hand; as I plugged it in I allowed myself to smile because it was going to be okay now.
(laughs) I was wrong.
It turned out that it was, after all, the sodding ac adaptor. Now, it is fortunate that I have some computer knowledge and, minor technical ability. I knew that I didn't have to brave Acer customer service to find the correct adaptor; I understood the information on my current adaptor, there was hope that a fortune wouldn't have to be spent to get my hands on a new one.

This time eBay could not help me no, my new knight in shinning armour was Amazon. Universal ac adaptors my friends are a Grud send yes, all you need is the right voltage and the right pin connection to your laptop and away you go!!

Which is why I can right this blog ON my laptop powered by a lovely Trust universal ac adaptor which has the brightest freaking blue, power light you can imagine, really, it's putting my Chrimbo lights to shame!



Here's the ever worthy Linus...

Paid Surveys, Home Working and All That Jazz!!

Being unemployed means time is on your hands; unfortunately money isn't so, you try and 'employ your time', (almost a pun there), to make some dosh.

The internet.

Now, the internet is a wondrous creation, it goes from informing you who the wives of Henry VIII were, (go on, try and name them), to worrying things like well...hmmm... Anyhoo, it can also make a person money. The thing is, a person must be wary of trying to make money online - undoubtedly there are ways to make some dosh but making some legal and painless dosh is very hard. Scams people, are left, right and sodding everywhere, they can catch out even the sensible so not believing all you read is a very wise path to take.

I have lost count of the paid survey sites that I have come across, frecking millions of the bastards but, the numbers of genuine ones are few and far between. Type in, 'paid surveys', and Google will oblige with a list as long as your Gramps long johns. In the months I have been out of work I haven't come across one that I could honestly, recommend. What they all have in common is the request for money; from peanuts to serious money, they all want some degree of payment. You can go to forums, wade through reviews but it seems that no-one is willing to tell you the websites to join that will, in fact pay REAL money for you spending 2 - 30 minutes answering mind-numbingly boring questions without requiring you to pay for it.

Freelance workers.

There are sites that provide work for freelance work - when I say freelance it can be anything from data entry to constructing websites. Plainly, the key to this is that you, yes YOU are able to do this type of work. Are you able to ghost write, to put together a trial website can you do data entry? I found out that my answer to these questions, was, 'un-fucking likely', which is a depressive thing to admit to certainly, not to the skill level that would get me work.
Like paid survey sites, there are freelance worker sites that ask for your dwindling dosh so, once again, be wise.

There are other websites that, over a trial period of something like 7-14 days, will allow you to try their service for free and then, after that they will charge you monthly.

My FREE advise.

You should NEVER pay to work. Do not part with your cash whatever you read in a forum, whatever review you study.

Don't try these trial periods out, (warning, Freelance Home Writers are a rip off), because even if you do cancel your account before the trial period ends, some will still take your cash.

Once again, DO NOT PART WITH YOUR MONEY NO MATTER WHAT. The idea is to make money not to spend it.

Lunch Will Be Late!

I spend my mornings job searching; sat there, in front of a computer screen, scanning through various job websites looking for something that pays decently and won't send me to a loony bin.

I found something this morning, a job with a county council. I downloaded the application form along with the job specification details, went to open them and all I got was jumbled code...I sighed knowing that there shouldn't be a problem my end, Microsoft word is happily installed on my system so why the freck this downloaded document was being an arse...weeeellll... I e-mailed the council and, to their credit, got a speedy reply with a new download which worked - was I going to be lucky?....

No.

I spent the next few hours trying to fill the thing in. At one point I saved it because I had to read the blooming person specification details which, when printed off, became a pile of paper. I sat there, reading the bollocks, then went back to the saved file which opened as...yes, a pile of sodding code. I went back to the e-mail to reload the correct download and started again.

I knew lunch was approaching I could tell by the near-lunch-time activity noises coming from my other 'arf and my dog. Pressure seemed to be looming to get this damn application form finished before lunch because, if I left it now, I wouldn't give a fuck later on so...

I concentrated, filled in the straight forward stuff then hit the usual hurdle of, 'Please give details of how you meet the job requirements along with examples of...' blah, blah, blah and all that. I felt like crying, in fact, I did. I hate this type of question it's just bloody awful. Why you can't just send your sodding CV off which lists your work experience and details and let THEM decide if you have the relative requirements, I don't frecking know?! Anyway, I persisted - by this time it is well past normal lunch time, getting on to 1.30pm, and I was beginning to fancy that I could hear the stomach growls of the males in my life.

I finally got to the point when you date and sign, and was about to lean back in my chair with a relieved sigh, when I realised that there was more...ethnic and disability details and stuff...ahh!

By the time I e-mailed the sodding thing off it was hitting 2pm - over two hours to complete the bloody thing. I wouldn't mind so much if I actually got an interview but, the chances of that are sod all if past experience rings true!

On that note I received another, 'Dear John', in the post today. Plainly I am no use to anyone!

Tito Jackson.

This is odd - I'm blogging about the Jackson clan - not something I ever thought I would blog about; the Jackson's, (be it Michael, The Jackson Five or, any other incarnation), are not a subject that I am interested in. I will admit that Michael Jackson has done some good songs but, on the whole, he does not interest me, worry me, yes but I don't think that's all his fault, not with the upbringing and life he has lead.

Anyway...

Tito Jackson. I was not that familiar with him until a programme I watched, (which was on channel four last Thursday night), called 'The Jackson's Are Coming'. It was about Tito Jackson and some of the other Jackson clan, moving to Devon yes, Devon in the U.K. On first thought it might strike you as a bizarre idea as it did me, but having watched it I can understand why Tito Jackson thought that it might have been a good idea.

The Jackson's are not your average, normal family but that is not because they don't want to be. The world looks at Michael Jackson who, without doubt, has 'problems' and the entire Jackson clan is judged by him. A mistake as they are NOT all Michael. Tito Jackson was the guitar player in the Jackson Five, since then he has attempted to have a normal life. Like anyone, he has had to deal with the downers of life, (his e-wife was murdered by her boyfriend), and has endeavoured to find some type of normality. He is an intelligent, thoughtful and caring person who clings onto his privacy yet found himself in a strange situation that this programme followers.

Matt Fiddes, a friend of the Jackson family for years, a bodyguard to Michael in the past, (stemming from the fact he's a martial arts expert and friend of Uri Geller), is a Devon lad. Members of the Jackson clan have stayed with them and somehow, the idea was born that Devon would be a place where Tito and others of the clan could find a peaceful, normal life something that Los Angeles, (there usual home), does not give them. With paparazzi at their gate, helicopters hoovering over their garden I can understand why, a small town in Devon might be appealing.

We presume that all the Jackson's want attention from the media, from us, from the world but Tito and his dear old mum, sure as hell don't. It is unclear who presented the notion that Devon could be a sanctuary from public intrusion, I have a feeling it was Matt Fiddes, I say this because he does not turn out to be the trusted friend Tito believed him to be. To cut a long story short, Fiddes betrays them wanting to use Tito and the Jackson's for his own means.

I found myself feeling desperately sorry for Tito Jackson, he is a man I found myself liking, sympathise with and wishing that he could escape the media and public intrusion. I wanted him to hit Matt Fiddes for his betrayal but ended up admiring him for not doing so instead, he was a model of professionalism and good sense. Plainly the man has been betrayed before.

It was a fascinating programme, an insight into a family who, unfortunately, can never really be 'normal' but that is not their fault. Generally speaking, the Jackson are, at heart, like any other family, yes there's the whole Michael thing but the rest of them just want to get on with living.

I wish Tito and his family well; I do hope that they do manage 'normal' but I fear that a combination of the media, the public and the on-going strange goings on in Michael Jackson's life will never allow that.

That's Another Fine Mess You Got Me Into!

After a bad night of ineffective sleep, I woke with a odd calmness - didn't I have a interview to attend? - yes I did - so, why calm? - well, who knows, calm I seemed to be if, somewhat sleepy with it.

Had my breakfast, got spruced up, (again), and set off for my second interview of the week. Now, I had read the job advert and was fairly certain I could cover the basics, it was just that I had never been a Clinical Trials Administrator before. I had some notion of what clinical trials entail - the testing of drugs etc, etc.

I arrived in plenty of time, took a seat, (as told), and awaited the interview. To this point I had managed to maintain a calm but something was stirring, the knowledge that after a calm spell the storm hits. I'm over doing it using the word, 'storm', but it does some up what happened next...

I started to get a coughing fit. Yesterday, (after that days events), I had seemed to descend into a case of the coughs, husky voice and slight fever. It had lessened when I got up this morning but, sat there, waiting to me called, it returned. I was greeted by one of my interviewers, to which I responded with a coughing fit - taken to the interview room, asked to sit, coughing fit followed. From then on in things fell apart. The coughing made me self conscious; I could feel my cheeks blazing up with embarrassment and when I was asked if I knew what clinical trials were I responsed with a babbled load of nonsense, (coughs in between), I knew there was no saving this interview.

I walked out of that building feeling like bollocks! The only good thing was that the coughing had suddenly disappeared! Plainly there's no frecking God!

Anyhoo...

On the way home I found myself not heading straight there but, heading for the local cemetery. I should explain that the said cemetery is one of my favourite places. Cemeteries, generally, are places I like; peaceful and full of life...wildlife that is and, stories. Headstones are great inspirations for imagining the lives of people. My local cemetery has the added bonus of a old section - headstones with dates like 1742 that are leaning towards one side with engravings barely readable. It also, has some really old tombs which I lurve.

I took the long walk around the old part of the cemetery, walking slowly so I could take in the peace and calm of the place. Smiled as birds scampered around tree tops, playfully told off trees that dripped dew onto me and delighted at the sight of a grey squirrel sitting on a cemetery bench. I ended up in front of one of the tombs and smiled at the inscription on it's gate, 'I hold the keys to Hell and Hades', impressive to say the least.

By the time I got home, calm had been reinstalled and I absently resigned myself to the fact I wasn't getting that job.

Never miiiiinnnnnd...



Here's some nice music to calllmmmm...

Demon Seed - Nine Inch Nails

and, on that subject...

Demon Seed Trailer, (a good film, watch it, it's grrrreaaat!)

Oh Fuck, I'm Lost!

Preparation, dear reader is a huge percentage of the battle. Yes, in regards to job interviews you need to be prepared so...

Yesterday afternoon I was reading/researching/planning, the same this morning to the point of a nervous, stress level, worthy of a breakdown.

Anyhooo...

Got myself spruced up, gave myself bags of time and then set off...

I got fucking lost!

I had directions, (ain't Google maps a wonder?), and I was half familiar with the route as, along it, is a public, country park, I take my lovely dog Jasper to. Past that, cross the round-a-bout and Bob's ya uncle, as they say. Bollocks was it. No Bob to be seen instead, I ended up in the next fucking county, (it should be noted I live near the border of another county so that does not sound as fucking female as you maybe, sat there, thinking!). The realisation that I was bollocking things up, sent a silent panic through my system so I turned around and tried again.

Now, turning around when you're lost, is not fun - you don't know the road, the area and, you are beginning to start to doubt your ability to drive a car. Bloody hell! So, muggins here heads back and tries to spot the place and....
'bollocks, drove past the sodding...where can I turn...bollocks...here we go, heck there it is...'
...and does a 'Starsky and Hutch' turn into the...er, turning. I'm telling you, loose earth shot into the air. An observer would have either, drove their fist into the air while yelling expletives or, laughed their frecking arse off.

Anyhoo...

Got to the interview with a few minutes to spare.

The interview?

Well, I was sat there trying not to cough, (I've got the start of a chesty one brewing behind my ribs), while a heater was on full blast near me. I tried not to think about how red my face must be, (combination of said heater and near-lost panic), and tried to appear as composed and together as possible, silently, thankful for the glass of water that had been provided.

Now, tomorrow morning I do it again.....ahhhhhhhhhhh!

Woolworths and MFI

The news today, that Woolworths and MFI are facing administration, is somewhat of a shock. Woolworths have had 'problems' before but the fact it will soon be no-more, is very bad news indeed. Apparently over 25,000 people might loose their jobs which is not good news at any point in the year but, with Christmas drawing nearer, it is harsh.

As someone who was made redundant earlier this year and, is struggling to find gainful employment, I feel truly sorry for the staff of Woolworths and MFI - unfortuantly folks, you are about to join a growing number of the unemployed.

Here's a link to the full story at the BBC -
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/7751064.stm

Mr Moon Please Don't Leave Me!

And, what did I say about Fridays? (see last post). So, explain why I have an interview Friday morning - at least it's in the morning so I might...MIGHT be able to appreciate the, 'Thank Fuck it's Friday', feeling.

I won't place a bet on it though.

I could moan more but I have a greater worry. My other 'arf recorded the programme, 'Catastrophe',(Monday C4 9pm) yesterday which we watched today. Interesting stuff which made me feel like the underachiever that I am. Imagine it, if only I had applied myself when I was younger, I could be one of those experts that did 'sound-bits' on this programme. I could be examing the night sky or looking for fossils which would be a Hell of a lot better then being a unqualified, unemployed nobody.

Anyhooo...

Well, the programme was very informative and I would recommend it to anyone but there was one point that has left me worried - the moon is moving away from us every year.
Yes, you should be worried too. If it wasn't for the moon you, me, we, would not be here in the first place, (all to do with tides and stuff...), and, it's gradual moving away from us is something that I find VERY concerning. Unfortunately the programme did not share the results of the moons departure; I guess the Sun will burn us to a shrivel first but still, I AM WORRIED!

I am now going to-
a. finish my tea;
b. find a dark corner to hide in and worry I mean I don't need this with two...TWO sodding job interviews this week!!!!!!

Thursday's Child.

What is it about Thursdays? I ask because I have another interview this coming Thursday, which makes that two on the trot. I could have arranged it for this coming Friday instead but, quite frankly, I like Fridays too much. Not that I dislike Thursdays, you understand, it's more that Fridays, (being the end of the week), have now become akin to a significant day to me. They are the doorway to the weekend, which means, I can allow myself a little bit of relief from the stress and guilt of being jobless.

Being jobless is definitely a case of stress and guilt especially, when you have been out of work for over six months, (as I have), and it can be over-whelming at times. The burden of not feeling as if you're 'pulling your weight', can get to the point of near consuming nastiness. As a rule I tend to feel stress and guilt at the drop of a hat, not a fun thing. I also, suffer from self doubt, low self esteem and so little confidence that a hermit would seem to be living the 'high life' in comparison. Sad really but then I do have an excuse, a crippling, (as in emotional not physical), upbringing and, therefore, a tendency for depression. When I think about it it's amazing that I have have been in 'gainful' employment at all. It's also, amazing that I haven't slashed my wrists...cowardliness is a life safer you know.

I Do Not Belong Here.

Well, do you want to know how my job interview went today? As I can't here your response I'll presume that you do.

Firstly, I'll fill you in on the events just prior to it. The nerves, the self-doubt and the fear you know how it goes, (or do you?). I did reasonably well yesterday apart from a slight funny moment in the evening. I actually apologised to my other 'arf, as we were doing the washing up after dinner - apologised for screwing up. He was a bit bemused at what I meant until I explained that I would screw up the interview and let him down. Being the man he is, he told me off and backed that up, with a firm statement that I had not let him down and he did not think I would. He's a gem that man of mine. I got his point though, I was apologising for screwing up something I hadn't screwed up and really that was helping no-one.

I wasn't too bad this morning; read through some info. about the company, wrote down a few more questions and decided that I could do this...yes Sir, this gal can do this shit....yeah! (mentally punches the air with her fist).

I got there early, sat in the car for a few moments to compromise myself, which I needed because I had nearly taken the wrong turning to the place. After a huge intake of breath and a quick mental word to myself I embarked onwards.

As soon as I entered the foray I knew that I was out of my league. In the swish world of top executive brown leather chairs, decor to impress what's-her-name who does that programme about people decor...yes, it was plain to little-miss retail/customer service background that she had entered a realm she had no business being in.

I did my best, honestly I did. I was polite, listened, asked questions, smiled and tried to show a happy, enthusiastic person but fear that my face showed that I knew I did not belong there.

Bollocks!

Anyway, at least my palms weren't sweaty - there's a first...(sad sigh).

Who Me...No Sergeant?!

Who me, what, really, a interview, what Thursday...seriously!!??

Yes, it's true, just when I was about to carry on from my first post the oddest of things happened, I got asked to go for an interview. Not bad considering that I had only e-mailed my C.V. (to said person), that morning, (yesterday), and I am not at all accustomed to getting a reply to such things, (thoughtful pause). Thinking about it, that makes me sound like someone who someone else, would not want to reply to...(another thoughtful pause)...not altogether false.

The last time I was asked to go for an interview was months a go; I had reached the point of surrender after all, just the curtsy of a, 'Dear John' is a novelty in my world, (is that me or is that the way it is now?), so an actually invite to meet is a shock. I am so shocked that I am yet to get nervous about it which is not at all like me. Interviews have a nervous effect upon many people but with me it can be as ridiculous as getting the shakes and sweaty palms, the later of which I don't get any other time. What goes on in a persons system to cause it to come to the conclusion that making the palms sweat is going to help? The human body is equipped with many modes to protect itself but really, what help do sweaty palms provide? None for crying out loud!

Back on point - the interview.

Ironed my outfit so I can, at least, attempt at being presentable. Skipped through the website, (of the company I have the interview at), and taken some notes. Read through the job description, just to check that neither them or me, have had a funny turn in relation to going to this thing. Thought up some appropriate questions. Now, is there anything I've forgotten - probably? Anyway, it's not as if I'm going to get the darn thing which yes, is not the attitude but it certainly is, what experience has taught me so far.

Now, if I could only win the lottery tonight then I wouldn't have to frecking go!



I have to have a yarn about what's happened today in regards to John Sergeant and the whole 'Strictly Come Dancing', bollocks.

I have an important point to make on this matter...wait for it...it's important...
The Strictly judges are told to judge the dancing of the contestants. The public are told to, vote for their favourites. Two different agendas there folks so, logic suggests, two different outcomes will arise. There is no point moaning about the public when you are asking them to do something different from the judges. Unfortunately, this has lead to John Sergeant stepping down from the show which is a shame as he has done nothing wrong. Good spirited, good sportsmanship, good humour and a whole good guy thing has made him the nations favourite and a possible national treasure.

I guess it proves a point, the public might like you but that means nowt in the world of dance!

The Rug Pulled from Beneath Ones Feet.

Earlier on in the year I was made redundant, to be precise, last January so the fact it has taken me until mid November, a painful ten months later, is a clue to how I took the incident. ‘Incident’ is a good word for it. I know thousands of people are made redundant, it happens regularly in the working world, ‘part and parcel’, as they say, BUT I had never been made redundant before this. No, I was a virgin at the whole redundancy business and, I’m telling you, I ain’t fucking in a hurry to repeat it.

We returned to work, after last Christmas, to be sat down and told that the company was fucking up, (my own translation of what was said by the bitch…I mean my old boss), and that people had to be made redundant. The policy was, last in, first out sooo…with a mere five years under my belt….yes a MERE FIVE YEARS, I knew I was for the chop. I mean compared to the life sentence other arseholes, ooops, colleagues, had served I was a newbie! Anyway, a time frame was set in place, meetings organised where those under consideration for the chop had a chance to come up with ideas to save the failing shite of a….to save the business, (ten months and the bitterness still oozes), which I did. Not that that helped me.

Anyway, with the 99.9% certainty I was going to be one of the lambs I started to, tentatively, look for a new job.
The thing is, (here’s some words of wisdom here), life’s shitty parts don’t always register with you until they actually slap you in the face.

The ‘day’ arrived, where we were to be told. I thought I’d be okay but heck, the shock shook me. After five years of service I was, effectively, told to fuck off and kicked on the rubbish dump and left in a state of complete, ‘where’s that rug that was under my feet?’ People, (I’m telling you), redundancy is not a nice thing to happen to a person and this is coming from someone who has been through some shite in her sorry life, (some self made…(slaps self on the side of the head)).

Anyway, I’ll tell more in the next post as I’m getting all angry and need to hit something.