To think now, Friday started out so normally. After a week with no work, all I had lined up for next week was another one-off day's work at the same place as last week, but a suggestion that more might follow from it. I had an interview lined up for early afternoon on Friday, in Brighton. I don't normally look outside London, apart from the occasional cursory glance at Portsmouth, but I'd widened the search to the South of England, just to see what was going on. And that's how Brighton came up. I sent them my CV, they called me back and I arranged to see them Friday. I figured while I was on the road, I'd carry on to Portsmouth. It all seemed so simple.
Friday morning I loaded up my car -- with the choice of music being especially important (for the record, I chose two official Pearl Jam bootlegs -- of 3 discs each -- from shows in Sydney in Honolulu, and a mix cd a friend made me a while back), and headed for Brighton. The journey was supposed to take about two hours, but despite not needing to be there until 2, I still set off before 10am. Knowing my sense of direction, I'd need the extra for when I got lost.
I made it all the way into Brighton without a wrong turn. It had been plain sailing all the way there, and even taking my eyes off the road while I fought to change the cd didn't cause me too many problems. I got to Brighton far earlier than I needed to be, but it was once I was in the city that I ran into problems finding where I wanted to be. It had all gone so well, right up until the very last road. In the end I parked somewhere and called my dad, so he could look it up on google maps -- I was only 5 minutes away from my destination. Finding somewhere to park was next to impossible, the parking meters all seemed to have a maximum stay time of two hours and I needed much more than that. After what seemed like a year, I eventually found a multi-story car park where I could ditch my car on the roof for a while.
So far it all sounds pretty normal, right? The trouble was with all the missed phone calls I had. One agency had wanted freelancers, and on seeing my cv asked me to start 9am on Monday morning. I'd asked the recruitment consultant if they could make it 9.30, because it wasn't exactly central London -- I also told them to check how long the contract was for. While all this was being checked, the agency that wanted one day's work out of me for this week had now decided they wanted at least three days. I couldn't respond to that request until I knew that was happening with the other, but that was taking all day. Then a third person was trying to contact me about two applications from last week -- two agencies wanting me for interview.
So, back to Brighton. I wasted a sufficient amount of time before my interview, and presented myself promptly just before two. The account exec who had arranged the whole thing -- who was probably several years younger than me -- showed me to the meeting room, but the director was currently still out at a meeting. So I made small talk with the exec, found out she'd gone to school near where I live in Essex -- to a posh, public school in fact -- and we chatted about where I lived and whatever else. The director was about half an hour late for the meeting, but I'd amused myself reading the paper and assured him his apologies were unnecessary. The interview itself went very well, he was impressed with my experience -- I'd name-dropped the big agencies I've worked for in my covering letter with my application -- and we got on well. Towards the end of the interview he asked me about my interests, and I mentioned music and in particular live music -- he was very enthusiastic, was enthusiastic when I mentioned having tickets to Reading festival, and was even more enthusiastic when I said I'd seen Aerosmith play in Hyde Park a couple of weeks back. I left generally very encouraged by the interview, it's probably one of the best I've had -- and he told me he thought I was a very strong candidate, but he had more people to see, and it was bothering him I didn't live in Brighton. He really wanted someone who knew the city and with local connections. We'll find out this week if that was insurmountable for him.
Meanwhile, I had voicemail to say that 9.30 was no-go for Monday morning, it had to be a 9am start (which means a 6.30 train into London in the morning), but the work was for a couple of weeks, at least. So I then had to call the other recruitment consultant to say that not only did I not want the three days work being offered, but wouldn't take the single day's work either. And the third person with the interviews was going to be very difficult.
As it stands, the director of the agency I was supposed to work for is reportedly "bitterly disappointed", and I have been admonished by the recruitment consultant because apparently I should honour my agreements -- I had agreed to his day's work first. I figure I hadn't signed anything, and I gave him several days' notice -- all for a one-day job, that's more than enough. I think it's the recruitment consultant who is bitterly disappointed that she won't be getting her fee -- and probably also because my former colleague at PizzaExpress had previously been offered work with this same agency, and also rejected them later for a better offer.
And the interviews -- I have arranged one, grudgingly, for tomorrow. I know that it shouldn't be grudgingly anything, permanent work is surely better than freelance, but I don't like to be asking on my first day in the job to have time off for interviews somewhere else, even if I am freelance. Again, there was a pushy recruitment consultant behind it all -- which makes me think they must get commission for getting people along to interviews. Makes me think of the interviews I go for where the employers reject me almost right away for not having enough of the right experience...Anyway. This is just a work post, there will be more posts about the weekend itself to follow.
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