Ok. So today has actually been a fucking epic day, well, maybe not epic, but the best I've had in a long long while.
Picture the scene, I wake up, a little hungover, twenty minutes later than I should have, aching on my brother's living room couch. The weather's shit. Really shit, grey and wet, not pretty 'cause of the mist, or raining with any purpose, just a desultory drizzle. Like the weather's given up. So I kick myself through my morning routine of coffee, personal hygene and cigarettes, a little more thoroughly today, as I've a job interview, and in a lot more of a hurry.
Cut to fiftyseven minutes later, wishing I had time for a fag as I try and look confident walking into a side entrance of the most obvious builting on the Swansea Met campus. Well, trying to look confident and not bothered by the fact that it's at least a jumper colder than I thought and am dressed for. I managed to find the place my interview was without any difficulty, and successfully smile and look positive through my introduction to my potential colleagues; a slightly dishevelled man a few years my senior, looking very much like the kind of person who believes in helping people, and probably only drinks fairtrade green tea, and a pair of women, dressed in perfect social worker casual uniform, both looking like they're narrowly either side of the age where they stop giving a shit about helping people, and realise that the only job satsifaction they will ever get is from being that vindictive, self rightous cunt that will be found in any governmental building, waiting to tell you that you're not eligible for the help you might need. People, two dimensional, of at least average intelligence, and probably not of a breed likely to share my oppinions on music or politics. And what ese of import is there to talk about in an office? So introductions, and some form filling completed, I am escorted upstairs for a formal interview. During this interview I get the distinct impression that things are not going in my direction, although I can't place any one thing that might make it so, perhaps other than I was better dressed than everyone in the office. People get jealous, really, they do. Digression aside, I persevered, maintained appropriate body languge, smiled and answered questions in the way I thought they'd most like to hear, and, in general, got jolly well interviewed.
Back outside the university building, I am impolitely informed that neither the bus shelter, (which is little more than a roof and one glass wall) nor the area outside the doors of the building are acceptable places to enjoy a cigarette, despite the fact it's effing cold, raining, and the bus won't arrive for at least ten minutes. I catch one of the pointless new bendy busses to the city centre proper, wander aimlessly for a time, buy both a book and a video game at very cheap prices, and ate poached eggs on toast for lunch. Not thrilling, but killing two hours with very little money in a small city centre is hard, and not very interesting.
On then to my eye test, where my day continuted to be very medeocre, right until the end. An early contact lens check, and a late eyetest gave me nearly an hour of being sat bored in a waiting room, trying to concentrate on reading a book I've read at least twice before. So my eyetests told me I'm getting more short sighted, which is never good news, but it 's been a while since my last, and no great change. So my first interesting event for the day was finding that thanks to being on the dole, and the victim of a fuckup with regard to paying for my lenses, and a few other things, I was able to secure myself a new pair of glasses that should have cost a hundred and sixtyfive pounds for only two quid forty. Shiny.
A voice mail left whilst I was getting my eyes checked asked me to ring the place I had been interviewed back as soon as possible. I called, expecting some kind of discrepancy needing to be fixed, or to be told that they aren't offering me a job, instead, the woman I spoke to politely asked me if I was still willing to take the position. So shithot, I walked out of an interview expecting to be told this friday that I didn't get it, and instead found out the same day I'm now employed. Ok, so the job starts in a month, which will give me a chance to finish the Exodites in time for Nationals, even though I'll now have to work like a motherfucker to get everything finished to the standard I want with the time lost for the move. Yeah, sorry, I;ve run out of steam a bit from here, it's hard for me to write about stuff going write, it feels smug. Oh, and the weather had turned, I walked the twenty minutes back to my brother's place in the sun.
So the rest of my day passed in a fairly innocuous but pleasant fashion, some spliffs were smoked, some beer drunk, a very good meal of roast pheasant was eaten, and I am now contemplating bed. More accurately though, I'm contemplating bed, whilst trying to stop listening to a Johnny Foreigner album so I can go have a cigarette.
Tomorrow, I have a two week check up for being back on pills, and Geek work must begin again. expect some updates soon.
-Out
Picture the scene, I wake up, a little hungover, twenty minutes later than I should have, aching on my brother's living room couch. The weather's shit. Really shit, grey and wet, not pretty 'cause of the mist, or raining with any purpose, just a desultory drizzle. Like the weather's given up. So I kick myself through my morning routine of coffee, personal hygene and cigarettes, a little more thoroughly today, as I've a job interview, and in a lot more of a hurry.
Cut to fiftyseven minutes later, wishing I had time for a fag as I try and look confident walking into a side entrance of the most obvious builting on the Swansea Met campus. Well, trying to look confident and not bothered by the fact that it's at least a jumper colder than I thought and am dressed for. I managed to find the place my interview was without any difficulty, and successfully smile and look positive through my introduction to my potential colleagues; a slightly dishevelled man a few years my senior, looking very much like the kind of person who believes in helping people, and probably only drinks fairtrade green tea, and a pair of women, dressed in perfect social worker casual uniform, both looking like they're narrowly either side of the age where they stop giving a shit about helping people, and realise that the only job satsifaction they will ever get is from being that vindictive, self rightous cunt that will be found in any governmental building, waiting to tell you that you're not eligible for the help you might need. People, two dimensional, of at least average intelligence, and probably not of a breed likely to share my oppinions on music or politics. And what ese of import is there to talk about in an office? So introductions, and some form filling completed, I am escorted upstairs for a formal interview. During this interview I get the distinct impression that things are not going in my direction, although I can't place any one thing that might make it so, perhaps other than I was better dressed than everyone in the office. People get jealous, really, they do. Digression aside, I persevered, maintained appropriate body languge, smiled and answered questions in the way I thought they'd most like to hear, and, in general, got jolly well interviewed.
Back outside the university building, I am impolitely informed that neither the bus shelter, (which is little more than a roof and one glass wall) nor the area outside the doors of the building are acceptable places to enjoy a cigarette, despite the fact it's effing cold, raining, and the bus won't arrive for at least ten minutes. I catch one of the pointless new bendy busses to the city centre proper, wander aimlessly for a time, buy both a book and a video game at very cheap prices, and ate poached eggs on toast for lunch. Not thrilling, but killing two hours with very little money in a small city centre is hard, and not very interesting.
On then to my eye test, where my day continuted to be very medeocre, right until the end. An early contact lens check, and a late eyetest gave me nearly an hour of being sat bored in a waiting room, trying to concentrate on reading a book I've read at least twice before. So my eyetests told me I'm getting more short sighted, which is never good news, but it 's been a while since my last, and no great change. So my first interesting event for the day was finding that thanks to being on the dole, and the victim of a fuckup with regard to paying for my lenses, and a few other things, I was able to secure myself a new pair of glasses that should have cost a hundred and sixtyfive pounds for only two quid forty. Shiny.
A voice mail left whilst I was getting my eyes checked asked me to ring the place I had been interviewed back as soon as possible. I called, expecting some kind of discrepancy needing to be fixed, or to be told that they aren't offering me a job, instead, the woman I spoke to politely asked me if I was still willing to take the position. So shithot, I walked out of an interview expecting to be told this friday that I didn't get it, and instead found out the same day I'm now employed. Ok, so the job starts in a month, which will give me a chance to finish the Exodites in time for Nationals, even though I'll now have to work like a motherfucker to get everything finished to the standard I want with the time lost for the move. Yeah, sorry, I;ve run out of steam a bit from here, it's hard for me to write about stuff going write, it feels smug. Oh, and the weather had turned, I walked the twenty minutes back to my brother's place in the sun.
So the rest of my day passed in a fairly innocuous but pleasant fashion, some spliffs were smoked, some beer drunk, a very good meal of roast pheasant was eaten, and I am now contemplating bed. More accurately though, I'm contemplating bed, whilst trying to stop listening to a Johnny Foreigner album so I can go have a cigarette.
Tomorrow, I have a two week check up for being back on pills, and Geek work must begin again. expect some updates soon.
-Out
zoomusikgrl:
what a lovely picture you've painted. i guarantee you, we'd be friends.