Yet another job related post.

Again, massive gap between post. Sorry, but I just don’t seem to be able to get round to writing anything when I’m really busy. So, what have I been up to since my last post, live from a top Harrow library. I think I mentioned this before, but my plan for my time off was to actually do some proper writing. Unfortunately the two posts prior to this one are the only results of my good intentions. On the Friday of my first week of freedom from the servitude of work I was told by my agency that they’d managed to secure an interview for me at Hertz in Uxbridge. The job didn’t sound great, but, even after working at the school for 6 weeks and taking out £1000 of my investments, I still had very little money in my bank account. This was mostly as a result of having gone deep into my overdraft just prior to my job in the school. Anyway, I certainly didn’t have enough to keep me going for much more than a month so, as much as I wanted to spend a few months writing, I was in dire need of extra funding. The interview was scheduled for the following Monday. Thankfully it was midway through the afternoon, at 2.45, which at least meant that I wasn’t going to turn up to it all flustered, tired and hot, something that I think had scuppered my chances of getting the job from a few weeks earlier where the interview had taken place at 10am, just after a brief appointment at the agency at 9.30am to discuss how I should approach the interview. I rushed to that and was then kept waiting for a good 10 minutes before anybody would talk to me. That then meant that I had to rush down the road to the place where I was having the actual interview, something that ensured that I turned up thoroughly hot and bothered. Shame really. Boss aside, the job looked quite good. Well, the job looked ok, but one of the girls in the office was really hot. I certainly wouldn’t have minded getting up every morning to see her. Anyway, I digress, I didn’t get that job, but I’d learned exactly where I’d gone wrong. I’d suggested to the agency that morning interviews were really a bad idea. Basically I knew I’d stand a better chance of getting a job if I’d been able to get a good lie in and could travel to the interview at a leisurely pace. I also realised that having a suit that actually fit me was quite a good idea, and I’d bought one (actually had one bought for me by my Mum, but still) a few weeks earlier. Before the interview came the pre-interview preparation at the agency. This time they wanted me to go to their branch in Hounslow. They’d actually asked me to be there for 11am, but, sensibly I thought, I asked then if that could be moved to 12.30 so that I could go straight from there to my interview in Uxbridge. Being me, I didn’t manage to sleep particularly well on Sunday night and I awoke on Monday morning some while before my alarm went off feeling more than a little tired. Still, I felt a little better after having some sausages for breakfast. I got dressed at a leisurely pace (no rushing this morning, no matter what) and got in my car a full hour before my 12.30 appointment. More than ample time, I though, to get there considering the fact that my satnav had told me it would take only 30 minutes. I took my jacket off, set up my satnav, turned on the air-conditioning and set it to full blast. There was no way I’d turn up looking all hot and sweatty this time. After a minute or so of driving, my satnav actually managed to get a fix on a few satellites (I’m sure it used to just find them straight away) and the calming voice of satnav-Sally began to guide me towards Hounslow.

Satnavs are, in my opinion, fantastic. I always used to worry a bit about going somewhere I’d never been to before. Obviously it didn’t put me off enough to shy away from making the journey altogether, but, owing to my somewhat poor sense of direction, I was unwilling to set off anywhere new without first printing out a map of the route along with detailed directions from both the AA route planner and MS Autoroute. This tended to mean that I had to drive with a set of directions sitting on my steering wheel, something that diverted my attention from the actual driving and made me more likely to have an accident or be pulled over by some overzealous and, undoubtedly, bored, policeman. With satnav, this isn’t a problem anymore. Theoretically. Unfortunately, every time I go somewhere there seems to be some previously unpredicted obstacle right at the end of my journey. My trip to Hounslow was no different. A few hundred meters from my destination I was faced with a set of roadworks that completely blocked my route. Subsequently I ended up having to find my way around them, aided only by someone at the agency who had called to find out if I was OK, since I was now about 10 minutes late. Personally I didn’t mind about being 10 minutes late. It was in trying not to be late to my pre-interview preparation that I got myself flustered. I wasn’t about to repeat the mistake. Besides, I had plenty of time to make it to the interview afterwards. After all, it didn’t start for another two hours, and it was only another 30minute journey from Hounslow to Uxbridge.

Eventually I made it to the pay and display car park across the road from the agency. I subsequently discovered that there were a fair few unused parking spaces within the grounds of the agency, but I’d been told that I‘d have to park in the Pay and display, so that was what I did.

The agency’s Hounslow branch was a good deal more impressive than the Ealing one. Where as the Ealing branch was situated above a shop on the High Street, Hounslow had it’s own, recently constructed building. They both shared the same sort of fixtures and fittings with each branch being decorated in the company colours, but Hounslow somehow seemed more impressive. I think that’s the only context in which I could possibly describe anything to do with Hounslow as being impressive. Hounslow is, after all, a bit of a dump, so I was bound to find anything that wasn’t in keeping with the rest of the area’s shabby un-chic appearance to be a pleasant surprise.

The preparation seemed to go well. I said all the right things, so they sent me off on my way, seemingly confident that I’d get the job.

I got back in my car, once again engaging the air-con and set off towards Uxbridge. It was a little after 1pm. About 30 minutes later, after having got a little lost despite my satnav (on ti occasion it was my fault. I’d failed to notice that it had actually directed me to the right place, despite Sally’s declaration that I was exactly where I wanted to be. I’d managed to drive just a little to far, and gone right past the massive and fairly noticeable Hertz building and was about to enter a Buses only zone. Still, I finally made it to reception with only… 1hour to spare. Great, I was in for a long wait. Still, at least I’d be able to go through all the information the agency had given me about the job. After getting a pass I parked my car in the visitors section of the underground car park and slowly got myself together. It was dark, so I went off to reception to wait and do my final preparation. It was 2pm. 45 minutes before my interview.

35 minutes later I was collected for my interview. The building, dating back all the way to 2002, seemed very much like any ordinary large office. At least, it looked like any ordinary large office I’d seen on TV. Previously I’d only worked for small companies in small offices. This was on an altogether different scale. The interview went pretty well, I thought, with the only blip coming when one of the interviewers asked how old I was. What is this obsession with my age? It was the second time in as many interviews that I’d been asked how old I was and I was beginging to get paranoid about it. Do I just look particularly decrepit. Maybe it’s the thinning hair and the expanding waist?

After the interview, as tradition seems to dictate, I got a limited tour of the building which took in the canteen (nicer than I’d expected. I think that my idea of a canteen still backdates to when I was last at school. Of course at the time of the interview, the last time I’d been at school had been only 10 days earlier) and the Gym (way smaller and far less well appointed that I’d imagined, though perhaps, I’d imagined something that was pretty much unrealistic. I’d never been to a gym before and I guess I just imagined it would be like all of those dedicated gyms that I’ve seen on TV. I really must get out more). Apparently gym membership was only £10 a month, not bad considering that it did, in fact, have everything you’d need for a good workout. I made some enthusiastic noises; having the opportunity to exercise in my lunch break was certainly appealing, but ultimately I think my phobia of exposing myself in front of strangers would prevent me from ever using it.

I toyed with the idea of doing a bit of shopping before I went home, but ultimately I couldn’t be bothered. Well, I couldn’t be bothered and didn’t have any money anyway so there was really very little point in prolonging my stay in Uxbridge. I set off home.

Once there, I got changed and, as instructed, gave the agency a call. I found myself actually being pretty positive (though I voiced my concern that I’d been asked, once more, how old I was. The lady at the agency to whom I spoke could only comment that I had looked pretty smart from behind, but she hadn’t seen me from the front so was unable to comment on the effects of my potential rapid aging.) At the end of the conversation she promised to give Hertz a call and get back to me ASAP. About 20 minutes later she did just that. Apparently they were impressed by both candidates (me and the other guy) but, ultimately, when pressed, they were forced to admit that I was the best. Obviously this was highly gratifying, but it did have the unfortunate effect of thrusting me, once more, back into employment. I was to start on Wednesday.

So, I had one day to prepare myself. One day to buy a new pair of trousers and perhaps a shirt. I’d also decided to do something on that day that I’d been putting off for a long time. I was going to get my eyes tested so that I could buy a new pair of glasses to replaced my 7 year old, heavily scratched and, in the corner of one lens, chipped pair. The lens had been chipped after I’d gone down to Brighton to visit a friend and we, drunkenly, decided to have a pretend fight in the street. After he accidentally (or so he assures me) cuffed me across the head, the left lens came loose and shot across the pavement. When we eventually found it, a chip had appeared in the top right hand corner. Nothing that would impede my vision, but I would have to put up with this relatively minor cosmetic blemish for another 5 years.

The Next Day….

I obviously had to get used to getting up for work every morning, so in preparation I decided to wake up bright and early at 11am.

My plan was to go on a shopping trip to Uxbridge, the aim being to both acquire a new pair of trousers, and see exactly how to get to the Hertz building from the station. I’d decided that to spare myself the hassle of driving, I’d get to work by tube. I’d actually started to develop something of a hatred for driving after having to spend an hour in heavy traffic each morning whilst attempting to make it to Heston on time. I certainly didn’t want to repeat the experience. Driving should, after all, be fun, not a chore. I’d reserve car trips for pleasure purposes, like my now weekly trip out for drinks in Marlow where I’d be able to really “open her up”(whether you can truly “open up” a 5 year old Vauxhall Astra is, however, debatable, but with its sports suspension if definitely hold on to the road well, even if the stiff ride means that running over anything larger than a tiny pebble feels like it’s dislodging your spine) on the twisty A-Roads and actually have some fun. Of course I’d still use my car to get the weekly shopping, but that would be in the evening when I wouldn’t have to deal with rush hour traffic.

Inevitably, just as I was about to leave for Rayners Lane Station, my Mum professed a desire to come along. On the plus side she did at least “help” with choosing trousers. I ended up buying the pair that she said she didn’t like; a sure indicator that I’d made the right choice. I also bought a couple of shirts in the sale at Burtons, one for work and one for non-work. Unfortunately, after only one wash, the shirt, which had previously been a perfect fit, managed to shrink meaning that it unfortunately had to go back. Still, otherwise it was a successful trip. I’d worked out how to get to work and I’d got some clothes to wear once I made it there. Time however, had marched on, so I had to head straight from Uxbridge to Harrow where I’d had my 2.30 eye test appointment at Boots opticians.

The initial signs weren’t all that good. I was kept waiting for about 25 minutes, and during that time two people had appeared to complain about their glasses. One persons glasses didn’t fit (an easily rectifiable problem though, with careful measuring it shouldn’t have happened in the first place) and the other was insisting that the glasses had not been prepared to her prescription.

Eventually I was ushered in the back room to have my eye test. I subsequently found out that the vision in my right eye has improved, which didn’t really come as a shock to me. My eyesight had seemed to be getting better of late and, owing to the state of my glasses, it had been preferable to look at things without my artificial ocular aids. The only down side was the glaucoma test which apparently showed that I was in the high end of the safe area, meaning that I was at risk of being at risk. So, not all that bad really.

Choosing the glasses was, however, a bit of a nightmare. It was buy one get one of the same or lower price free, so I’d have to choose a spare pair as well. Happily my Mum, who’d reappeared after her own shopping odyssey, was once more, on hand to offer some expert advice.

I should add that I’m usually pretty good at making decisions on things. Remember, just hours before I’d managed to choose a pair of trousers with no meaningful input from anyone else. However, the glasses thing had me stumped. I was pretty sure that I’d found the primary pair, but I couldn’t seem to find a second pair that I liked and that would actually suit my face.

In the end I’d got fed up with (and slightly revolted) at looking at my face in the mirror. I ended up being convinced that no pair would ever look good because I’d be the one wearing them. Things were further complicated by the fact that I’d limited myself to glasses under £99.99 by choosing the primary pair at that price. The second pair, if it was being used as sunglasses, had to cost the same or less than the primary pair. In the end I went for a near identically styled pair that simply had slightly smaller lenses.

Of course, once I’d chosen the glasses and declared as much to the optician they presented me with the option of having photosensative lenses. More decision. In the end I went for the photosenstive lenses (even though they cost £90 more) for the primary and regular, but scratch proof lenses for the spare set. In retrospect I think that I should have had sunglasses as the spare pair since the reactalight lenses don’t change if I’m looking through my car windscreen, which sort of negates one of my intended uses.

Anyway, having solved the glasses conundrum I had to face my first day of work. And I’ll tell you all about it another time. Hopefully soonish. And, if I do get around to writing again you can hear about how bad my training was, how I managed to start a massive argument with a "senior" member of staff after having been there for only 3 weeks and how I somehow managed to get my contract renewed.

New Post

The next post was actually written 6 weeks ago, but I just never got around to finishing/posting it. Plus it was ridiculously long and contained an awful lot of rambling rubbish. Actually, I'm not sure ho that makes it any different to any of my other posts. Anyway, in the interest of actually contributing to my blog I am going to publish it. I've been a little off writing of late (work/mood related badness), but hopefully I'll get back to writing again soon. In the meantime, here's the full, unedited mid-late July blog post.