At 11am, I was in London attending a job interview and by 4pm I was walking on a Norfolk beach with Verity…
Kudos to The Missus for her chauffuering skills.
Very tired. A little bit down and apprehensive as I wait and see if I make the cut for the second interview. As my life experience has told me, nothing is ever clear-cut or easy-to-read these days and now I am totally perplexed to the point of wondering if I did a good job at the interview. If I’ve messed this up, I’m going to be pretty upset about it, more-so than usual because so much is riding on it. This is my chance to “fix things”, to put right the things that have come undone due to my poor decision-making. This is also a chance to save the business. But that still all depends on the bank, I guess.
So…
I answered the questions.
I drew a diagram on the dry-board.
I fluffed a question and probably laboured my point a bit.
I gave three article examples off the top of my head.
I was also half-an-hour early for the interview, which is a first.
On leaving, the nice HR lady asked me how I thought I did. I replied: “I don’t know” because I didn’t know. Because you never know, do you?
I’ve only ever had a handful of job interviews that have gone really bad. My first interview was with the local library didn’t go bad per se, but I was overwhelmed by being interview by four individuals and I was only fifteen or sixteen at the time and it completely wiped me out as I get a bit of a nervous nelly at these things, when I know I should be cooler than a cucumber in a bucket of liquid nitrogen at the arctic. Then I remember an interview I had with a bank (don’t ask) after I did my A-levels and I remember sitting there realising that I didn’t actually want the job and the chair was really uncomfortable – it was one of those modern jobbies: angular, uncomfortable, sitting back-to-front. I found myself drifting off into the heavens and daydreaming out of the window and being fascinated by the clouds rolling by. Then there was the period after my degree when I managed to collect over 100 rejection letters and there was this one interview I where I was left in a room on my own for ages as the two guys interviewing me left for a moment of consultation and then returned. I can’t remember what spurred it but I basically had a mini-meltdown and just decided to beg for the job. Safe to say, I didn’t get it.
But all the other interviews that I’ve failed, even the ones I’ve got, I just don’t know what the outcome is going to be. There’s a real sense of “I don’t know”. Is it about personality? Experience? The right university education? I don’t know. I’d love to know the secret of success. Wouldn’t we all? It is a total mystery. The things you think should happen invariably don’t.
So there I was suited and booted and looking like an East End hardnut, and I don’t think I actually put my foot in my mouth or anything. However, neither did I bang the table and shout “bullshit!” either – now I’ve done that in a couple of interviews and gotten the job.
Funny old game, ain’t it?
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So there I was sitting on the sofa, dandling Herbie on my knee and making him laugh in idiot glee, with Verity in her high chair surveying the scene, waiting for her dinner to arrive from the kitchen.
Verity: I love it
Me: What do you love, Verity?
Verity: I love you, Daddy…
Well I nearly burst into tears because I am just a big cuddly bag of emotion. This is the first time she ever said anything like this to me. It made me feel very good inside. I really like being a dad.
Morris Pert was a percussionist extraordinaire who worked with the likes of Mike Oldfield, Brand X and numerous others. I’ve always enjoyed his contribution to the music I’ve heard and I’m sad to say that another hero has passed away at the young age of 63 of a suspected heart attack on 27th April 2010. I’d never seen him play, only heard his performances, and it wasn’t until I saw his manic energy on the Mike Oldfield – Live at Montreux 1981 DVD that I was totally amazed by his performance and ability. He reminded me of Animal from the Muppets on speed.
Anyway, here’s a clip of Morris rocking out with Oldfield from the self-same performance. (He’s the guy with the lambchop sidies and the blue T-shirt).
Remember this entry I made about the worst article ever written, well it appears that the fine publication responsible for such shoddy journalism is in a whole heap of trouble. Companies House has made an application to dissolve the limited company responsible for the Isle of Wight Gazette as it hasn’t filed its annual reports.
And I thought that it might end up with a large libel writ on its hands…
So I watched the second of the debates between Gordy, Nick and Dave. This time everything was razor-sharp enough to slice the corneas from my gloopy eyeballs as I was watching the show on the newly launched Sky News HD. Ahhhh, the joys of High Definition television are still a novelty in this house as we “upgraded” last Christmas when our last satellite box bit the dust and it turned out to be cheaper to upgrade than to get a new box via eBay.
Now when the wind is blowing in the right direction and the broadcasters decide to actually broadcast high-definition content, you can witness the joys of Doctor Who, Come Dine with Me and these Prime Ministerial debates all funky-looking. Yes, the picture is sharp, the colours appear more vibrant and there’s plenty more detail on the screen (down to the level of open pores, hairs descending from nostrils and the texture of fabric). In fact, when they showed “The Robe” in HD over Easter, I cooed more about the detail in the costumes than the actual film itself. I love a good Victor Mature movie – he’s a real dreamboat.
Anyhoo, back to the debate. It was more of the same really and I was surprised that some of the same topics were revisited (war, sleaze, etc) and this took up a lot of the debate. Cameron really doesn’t seem to be projecting in these contests. I am really surprised by this because at PMQs there is a flicker of a personality there, but this time around he really does seem to act like a stuffed suit.
Again, Nicky Clegg – though I’ve been called the three of them Compo, Foggy and Clegg after “Last of the Summer Wine” – put on a brave effort, but you could see his opposition were gunning for him and this time around El Gordo appeared to be taking his performance a lot more seriously. I like Brown’s little talk about our tolerant society and his joke comparing Cameron and Clegg to his naughty son’s arguing in the bath. That joke actually got a considerable snigger from the audience, which was meant to remain dumb.
Of the three, Brown is very much Prime Ministerial material and you can feel his gravitas – while the other two seem a little lightweight in comparison, but the anarchist in me would love the momentum for Clegg to increase and for the British electorate to pull the biggest tactical switch in the history of our parliament and put him in Number 10. I don’t want this because I think the country needs “a change”. I don’t want this to teach Labour a “lesson”. I want this to happen just to see the look on his face when he is ushered onto the steps of Number 10. I can imagine his face plastered with a rictus grin while the voice in his head is screaming: “What the fuck am I going to do nooooooooooow!?!?!?!?!?”
However, I will still be voting for the Labour candidate. Why? Purely because I received today’s copy of “Retail Newsagent” and I absolutely loved the mock-up cover for their election special which had El Gordo photoshopped into the role of a servile newsagent. He felt like one of the boys and for that reason, and that reason alone, I am voting for Gordon. Thanks to some clever Photoshop my political decision has been cast.
But it was interesting to see a report on the ITN Evening News two nights ago where Mr Brown was doing a visit and some disgruntled business owner wanted to see him. This fellow was in a right old state but demanded Brown’s attention, claiming he was doing nothing for a the small businessman and he was due to go bankrupt for the second time (once is unfortunate, twice is bloody irresponsible).
So the Labour team usher the guy inside and after his meeting, the businessman wanders into the light, looking shell-shocked and confused, his demeanour completely changed. He had gone from impotent rage to being as soppy as a box of kittens.
“Well he’s just this guy, you know,” he said (I’m paraphrasing here), “He really does want to make these changes, but he’s just one man. I completely misjudged him”.
It truly was a fascinating piece of TV, the likes of which I’ve never seen before.
Seeing as this is going to appear in the Evening News and Eastern Daily Press this week, I thought I might as well break from cover and post this myself. After having the place for sale with a commercial agent for nearly a year (we went to market as soon as the paint dried) with almost zero interest. We approached a couple of residential agents with regards to working out the value of splitting the property up, as we have the planning permission to do this, but they recommended we keep the place intact. Also, in terms of value it would be almost exactly the same value to split and sell separately minus your building costs.
Both agents then said “Hey! We can sell this for you” so we thought we’d give them a try. I mean, I’m basically selling the four walls and roof and throwing the business in for free. What a bargain, eh? The reason…oh come on – you know the reason. After all that has happened, we want a fresh start. That’s understandable, no?
But we’ll see if anyone bites. The housing market is a little depressed at the moment anyway, but miracles can happen…right?
Folkie strummer Billy Bragg attempts to confront Richard Barnbrook, notable for his career in gay porn and being a BNP poster boy, over the BNP in Barking.
