I am absolutely determined to quit my job. I simply cannot afford to be ridiculed and made feel crap of a human being for 4.50 quid an hour. I am sick of being treated like that pretty pewter mug everyone want to have in one corner of the pub but nobody wants to use it because it will either dent or will be not good for actual drinking or, even, because nobody knows what it is for. Really, if you polish it the pewter is still very much practical and nice in hand!
So I have been looking for my 3rd job, which will be my 2nd as soon as I Adios that horrible ale pub. Found a few, and got an interview booked. OK, I know that place so won't be tough to cook up something to chat nicely in the interview. I am fairly confident. Just by knowing how to drive to there is more than half way to scoring the interview.
So, I got off at the Winnersh Triangle and headed back to Wokingham. It was quite busy and I only had 4 min to be there, which was more or less enough minutes, unless...
That unless came and hit my nerve about 3.5 minutes later. The shop was gone!
I drove like mad and went up and down the A329. I was clearly late. I was so confident I didn't even have the phone number of the interviewee. Damn, damn, I began swearing in 2 piece suites and mid heeled shoes, cursing at the Citroen in front of me.
I went around like I never did before, going through heavily wooded areas and small bridges, and suddenly saw a sign. The sign said the name of the place. It was odd. One tiny shop in Wokingham moved to this woods and doing what?
I followed the sings and went past this enormous facility, looking quite grim, with trails of cars going in and out (mostly out.) I drove another 3 minutes and thought,
"Nah, this is ABSOLUTELY middle of nowhere, I got to get back."
and went back to this facility. It was dark, and odd as so many, many cars coming out in such a hurry.
Turned out, it was actually the right place. And the entire place was dark, due to the power cut. I was asked to wait in the darkness with one or two emergency pilot lamps on, for about 10 minutes. I saw shadows of patrons walking about in gym kits and chatting to apologetic staffs. I could feel the cooling steamy air from wherever the speciality rooms were. I was sitting on a must-have-been-posh-in-light looking settee in a large reception room, waiting for the interviewee to show up.
I was, in fact, 26 minutes late for the interview. There was no way I would have been picked for the job if that was in normal days. But, no, not today, not in the total power loss. Not in the severest weather day in 15 years. I was, at last, nicely asked to come back later. This, I agreed more than enthusiastically.
London was stormed through, lost some lives and lost many cars and spent so many driving time on M25. Berkshire lost power and I gained another chance. I really do hope that this is not the beginning of 7 signs.
Sign 2, Daraness gets another job interview.
Sign 3, the great river turns red.
