February 17th, 2003

This IS me (by schwitters)Default

No, I mean it this time - it really IS the last straw

On Friday I signed up with a new agency and went to see a company who were interested in hiring a web person through said agency. All seemed hopeful and I was told that the company would contact the agency and the agency would contact me (do things the easy way, guys, why don'tcha) 'early next week'.

So I'm on tenterhooks all day waiting for the phone call that could release me from audio typing for evermore, or at worst a few precious weeks. My mobile eventually rings at 1710 hrs when I have left work and am mooching round the retail park outside Greenwich (incidentally, I don't think Pets At Home should be right next to the McDonald's drive-thru; it looks very suspicious, even though Pets At Home gerbils cost £6.49 a pop and nothing that expensive goes into hamburgers).

It is the agency, but it isn't my contact, Kate; it is a colleague who wonders whether I'd be interested in starting work in Camden tomorrow stuffing envelopes for the NHS?

Well no I wouldn't, frankly. I have stuffed my fill of envelopes in my time and hope never to stuff another. I doubt the job is any better-paid than what I'm doing now, I'm reluctant to leave my current hosts and current agency in the lurch (though I would like a shot if something I actually wanted came along, natch) and, more importantly, it would mean abandoning my personalised 'Alice Is Purrfect' mug in Barking.

What of Kate and the job I actually signed up with the agency in the hope of getting? The job I can do? The job I want to do? "Oh. Kate's gone home. She didn't mention anything to me."

Honestly, had I had a gun I would have blown the back of my head off right there in TK Maxx. Now there's a sordid image.
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