Friday in the city

On that last post; you'll have to excuse me my random moments like that. I don't really know what had got into me that day, but I appreciate the comments from every last one of you. Interestingly enough, your comments have made me realise a couple of things; mainly that we are no judge of our own 'worth', as it were. There were comments left by brilliant, charming and capable people -- all confessing to feeling the same thing. And I would wonder why any of these people would ever consider themselves ordinary -- even if they aren't necessarily setting the world on fire. Even if I am not necessarily feeling better about my own mediocrity -- and conversely, still harbouring a secret hope that I might be a superhero -- I am getting a new perspective on things. And for that, I have you to thank -- no, not you, I know where you've been -- but the rest of you.

Moving on with business as usual, I have really managed to outdo myself at work. After an incident of lateness before Christmas -- where the powers-that-be snuck in an 8.30 start on rota, hidden among a week of 9.30 starts -- I should have been more careful. Friday I needed to take the day off for some appointments, and felt rather than call in sick it would be best to book the day officially as holiday.

I emailed my line manager, and he advised me to fill out a holiday form and leave it with someone else. Seemed easy enough; I filled out, left it with her, and even emailed her to make sure she had it. Friday morning I'm on the commuter train into the city, and my phone rings -- I say it "rings", really what it does is play "Misirlou" by Dick Dale and his Del Tones. I have a sick feeling when I know what this will be -- a call from work, asking where I am.

Getting a day off couldn't ever be as simple as just filling out a form and giving it in, could it?

"We have you down for an 8am start" they tell me
"I booked the day as holiday! I filled out a form!"
"Really? Who did you give this form to?"
"You! I gave the form to you! Yesterday!"
"The form says Friday, Dec 5"
"I know! That's today!"
"No, today is January 5..."
"Oh, shit."

It turns out they thought I was incredibly well-organised and was already booking time off for next December. I might just kill myself if I am still doing this job in December. After much discussion about how the form has to be authorised, signed, and returned to me before the requested holiday is official, I made it clear I wasn't coming into work and they grudgingly agreed to change the form and have me down as holiday. I expect they will still want an official meeting to discuss the matter with me and will probably also want to call my agency and tell them what I did. Not only will it seem like I can't read the rota properly, but that I'm also unaware what month it is.

A colleague asked me this morning if I hadn't noticed it was New Year last weekend -- I know what year it is, I told him, just apparently not which month.

The appointments with recruitment consultants were uneventful. It's already well-documented how I feel about these particular professionals, so it should come as little surprise that the day was only marginally better than being in work.

My first appointment of the day was with a consultant interested in putting me forward for an assistant role in corporate PR. Most of the appointment was taken up with me taking various tests -- spelling, typing speed & accuracy, and general computer skills. It probably could go without saying that my scores were good, but unexceptional. The meeting with the consultant herself mostly involved me just telling her the truth as it should be, rather than the truth as it is -- stuff like really wanting a job in corporate, rather than consumer, and just wanting to start at the bottom and get stuck in. Okay, so maybe I really am looking to start at the bottom and pay my dues, but mostly you just tell these people what they want to hear.

Second appointment of the day was completely different -- a guy that had contacted me and is trying to lure me into a career in insurance. Outside of call centres, naturally. I've told him I will consider it, because what I really want is transferable skills. And a proper job.

The last consultant of the day -- several hours later -- is set to finding me a role in consumer tech, but again I've said I'm open to suggestion for other positions. The meeting itself was largely unremarkable, except that ironically enough perhaps she wanted me to give her a list of 5 exceptional points I had -- in order to market me to employers.

To consider one's self to be entirely absent of outstanding qualities, and then be asked to provide evidence to the contrary is not easy. I wheeled out the usual points; exceptional writing skills -- although the consultant was disappointed I haven't been published recently (I personally thought being published at all, ever, was quite good), great people skills, but I then stalled on the third point. It's fitting that I can't even remember what my third point was. I was hoping she would forget what we were doing and I'd be able to get away with not coming up with any more -- but no such luck.
"Where are we up to? 3?" I asked "So that leaves me with 2 more to find?"
"We can call it 4, that's fine" she told me
"Right...so a fourth..."
"I'm sure you can think of something" she reassured me
"It's not having to try and think of something, it's trying to choose"

Apparently the sarcasm was missed, since she took a "great attitude" as good enough for number 4.

After all my meetings I met up with San in my favourite bar in Shoreditch and we made the most of happy hour...and the hours following. There's not much to report there -- we spoke our minds, talked about everything and parted on friendly terms. Fondly, but with no lasting regrets or longing.