And so it continues

Things continue much as ever for me. I've lost track how many days or weeks I have been working in PR now, but I actually enjoy it more the longer I do it -- because naturally I become more experienced, and am given slightly more taxing jobs to do. Although to their credit they have never had me making tea or doing the photocopying, I have spent entire days sorting clothing for one reason or another, or putting stuff in boxes. But for every day like that there are the media days when you get to meet all the journalists you have been stalking on the phone. Of course, I would like to be working on accounts where I meet journalists from magazines I actually read, rather than Glamour and Vogue, but one day at a time.

Last Friday I took the morning off work, since I had a job interview first thing, before which I had to meet with my recruitment consultancy to be briefed on the company and what questions to expect to be asked, and then after the interview I arranged to meet with a different recruitment consultancy.

The interview was unremarkable. I haven't heard anything back -- either Friday or today -- about it, despite calling my 'consultant' this morning, and leaving a message with a colleague of hers since she was in a meeting. That's probably not a good sign -- but I didn't have my heart set on the position. It was business-to-business PR rather than the consumer PR I do at the moment, and although it was IT based (or perhaps because it was) their client list meant little to me. But the offices were nice, the guys I met who interviewed me were friendly enough and interesting and I liked the sound of the company and the job enough from it to think I could do it well, and do it happily. This is a world away from when I texted San on route saying I didn't know if I even wanted the stupid job -- but I think that was more frustration at having to change about 3 times on the tube for what would have been a 15 minute walk.

After the interview I had two hours before my appointment, and took some time out to just sit in a park in the sun and read the end of Alex Garland's The Coma, and then a copy of Q magazine I'd swiped from the office at work. There's never a shortage of magazines when you work in PR.

San suggested meeting for lunch, but the timing was inconvenient for me and I wanted some space from her. When I asked Philippa if she was free at all over the weekend, it seemed timing was inconvenient for her, too. That's just how these things go. Maybe I'll see one or other of them this weekend, and maybe I won't. Maybe I'll get a call about an interview this week or next, and again -- maybe I won't...