I got an email from the BBC yesterday, sadly they have declined my application for the trainee journalist role. I did indulge myself in a little lip wobble on the train home when I read this on my iPhone, but to be honest, I wasn’t really expecting to get the role, so it wasn’t really any surprise. Shame really, I would have been bloody good at it.
Nevertheless, that bad news didn’t take the shine off my puppy party yesterday. It rocked to almost monumental levels. A few new faces turned up to join in the canine fun. I am no good with dog breeds (I get them all mixed up), so I will go with descriptions.
Old hand Alfie was there (small, furry, rag doll body). He spent a good portion of the hour sitting in my lap, licking my chin. I like Alfie. Daisy (small, curly, possible Labradoodle) was new, so she was a little bit nervous at first, but soon got into the swing of things. Josh (small, furry, stringy looking, big ears) started off playing well enough, but then progressed to mounting Peggy by the shoulders, and then valiantly attempted to have vigorous sex with her head. Kates and I didn’t know whether to laugh, or be slightly offended that our little princess was being violated in that way. We just both nervously tittered in the end. Josh just carried on thrusting away. He had stamina, I'll give him that.
It looks like I have some work over Christmas. I am going to be working in one of London's premier department stores to help with the Christmas rush. Not what I had in mind, and a few months ago, I would have probably got all precious about it and said no, but after many months of living the hermit life indoors, and quietly going insane, well, beggars can’t be choosers. Plus it means after dramatically declaring, Alan Rickman style, that, “Christmas is cancelled!” to Kates, I can now go and buy some presents.
The issue that I really have with it is that yet again, I seem to have found myself in a role that involves dealing with the general public on a daily basis. As I discussed a few posts ago, I am not really a “people” person. My ideal job would be me, sitting alone in a room, maybe surrounded by some monkeys. And yet all throughout my working life, I seem to have found myself in public facing positions. I have been shop assistants, branch managers, financial advisors, its like God is punishing me for something, and I am at a loss as to what it is? You start out in one role, and seem to follow suit with a similar one all your life. Every effort to try and do something different has met with a rejection. Net result for me when having to work with the public is probably similar to asking an acrophobic to go and count all the grains of sand in the Sahara desert. It leaves you with a throbbing headache, the urge to kill someone, and the wish to go hide in the cupboard.
“Why on earth do you want to join the Police when you hate people?” Kates asked me about a year ago when I first started my application, long before the rejection letter due to sub-standard hearing came winging its merry way to me.
The simple truth is, I wanted to do something worthwhile, something that actually meant something, and didn’t involve working my backside off to make somebody else a lot of money.
Plus, if any of the public annoyed me, I could hit them with my truncheon.
“Yeah, whatever mate. So what if I mugged that old granny. I’m only 15. You can’t touch me, innit?”
*Pulls out truncheon*
“Yeah, I’ve had 98 pints of lager in the pub. I’m a 48 year old man who should know better. I’m now going to tell you what I think of the Police before driving home. You’re all scum! Scum, the lot of you!”
“Excuse me Mr Policeman. Can you help me get my kitten out of the tree?”
TWONK! TWONK! TWONK!
(I am, of course, joking. I love cats).
When I worked in banking, my survival strategy for dealing with the public was to retreat to my own private Narnia within my head. So when they were sat across my desk, more than likely moaning about something that was entirely their own fault, I would have a beautiful smile played out over my face as I frolicked with Mr Tumnus in the snow, giggling to myself as he threw snowballs at my head.
That might be the reason why I am not in banking anymore?
Saying that though, I am grateful to be having some kind of work. In the current market, any job is a blessing. It will also give me something to write about on here. It has been hard thinking of stuff to post about, seeing as I’m not really doing anything at the moment.
Monday- Had cheese sandwich.
Tuesday- Went from living room, to kitchen.
Wednesday- Longed for the excitement of Monday.
Plus, perhaps you could all run a sweepstake on how long it will take before my eye starts twitching, and I mentally scamper back to the safety of my mind Narnia due to someone asking me where the shoe department was, whilst they stand there, surrounded by shoes, because they indeed were standing in the shoe department.
I’d say about 27 minutes.