Long time no see!?
So I have a new job.... Well actually it's my old job at a new place with the same old faces but still, I'm back in the game.
Looking back a month on the slightly altered state I found myself in I have to wonder why I decided that buying a suit and trying to get a real career was ever a good Idea. At the time it was the only thing that occurred to me that might sort things out. It appeared in my mind spelt out like a retarded neon checklist.
Step 1. Haircut and Buy Suit
So every business man needs a suit of course, though not having any cash to buy one meant persuading my dad that I needed one to get my career off to a good start. That good start being £140 in debt to my dad for a suite. The length of sleeve was a real ball ache as I've never really bought a suite before and felt a bit strange in any kind of fit. I settled on a nice pinstripe black number from Debanhams and was ready for the boardroom. I had my hair cut like Patrick Bateman from American phyco to finish off the look.
Step 2. Find Career
Looking on job finding websites it can make you wonder why anyone is unemployed? In business there seems to be a huge amount of jobs on offer, unfortunately only a select few of which I am qualified to do. I selected my new career in business mainly by annual salary I figured if it was around 18k a year I might as well chuck em a CV and see what happens. Sure enough my juicy job bait had a possible employer twitching my job rod ready for me to reel in my future in no time.
Step 3. Start Career
Ok here is where the mist began to clear. I managed to get an interview with a large recruitment agency in Brighton..... you know 'recruitment' that job I've always wanted to do since I was a little boy when i pretended to get my school friends jobs like 'head woodlice counter' and 'assistant pog manager'? My dream job in that dream I don't remember.
It was a fucking hot day when I turned up for my interview and the new black suit felt like it was smothering me like some industrial corporate cling film. As I stood in the lift I could feel my hands getting more and more clammy. I imagined shaking hands and giving the impression that I'd just given myself an oily hand job on the way up sweating like a fat bloke chasing a pig. In short my head was not in the game. I looked at the fit receptionist and wondered if she fancied me in my new suit, knowing in reality after I'd had a shave I looked more like one of the gimpy ones from the junior apprentice covered in Vaseline. As I sat down to wait my 20 quid shitty old phone covered in skateboard stickers fell out of my pocket and smashed on the floor next to who I presume might have been my competition for the roll. I bent down to collect the bits feeling my suit jacket sleeves ride up my forearms thinking to myself I should have got the longer sleeved jacket and clocked my competitions I-Phone on her lap as I got back up. If this interview was going to be in anyway based on who has the coolest phone I am fucked I thought.
After reassembling my phone I was greeted by a blond fella called Mark or Luke or something who told me to go through to this office and that he and Andrew or John or something would be conducting my interview that day. So as I waited it started to dawn on me that I knew completely tits all about recruitment and the thought of doing the job made me feel as excited as waiting for a delayed train. Handling a question like"why recruitment?" with this running through your head is a tricky task. Still I sucked it up and gave it my best, that turning out to be telling them I really wanted the job as many times as I could and hoping my clammy palms might dry up enough in time for the leaving hand shakes. I realise now I am not cut out for a suit and tie job and I never was. My optimism of a gleaming new career in business went down with me in the lift and out into the hot Brighton sun where it shriveled up and died.
Then good old telesales came to the rescue, A job that I can do with minimal effort so I can concentrate on the more important things like Rap Music.
