I'm starting work on Monday, directly opposite the place I got made redundant from 5 years ago. In fact, it's possible I could have avoided that redundancy by getting a transfer over the road instead at the time. I'm not sure because I never really explored that possibility. At the time, I was ready to leave.
As I was eating my farewell meal in Pizza Hut that day I was sure I was going off to get a better job. Things already looked promising. In fact I had an interview the week after. It was to do data entry in the NHS. I was pretty confident of getting it. I thought I did pretty well at the interview, although I might have blanched a bit when they explained the part about where I had to empty people's tumours out of buckets and then rinse the buckets out, I'm not sure.
Anyway, I didn't get that job, and I haven't got lots of the other jobs I've gone for since, which seems bad until you consider that some of the jobs I went for, I did get, and many of those it might have been better to get turned down for too. In fact, with hindsight there's only two of the six jobs I've had since that I'm glad I got.
Sometimes it's easy to look back and say 'What was I thinking?' when I look at the jobs I did get, but hated, but then I didn't have the luxury of sitting around on a pile of money waiting for the perfect job to appear, I had to get what I could get, when I could get it.
Getting anything was at times an achievement, considering the huge number of jobs I applied for, but didn't get a look in with.
It's become a standing joke now, that whenever I go out with Ruth, either to the shops or for leisure, we usually visit somewhere during the trip where I've been turned down for a job. She must be so weary of hearing that line when we go out, I might need to buy her some of those glasses with the eyeballs painted on the lenses for Christmas, so she can go to sleep behind them, while still looking interested.
And it can't be easy for her, holding her own career together, while I go through one false dawn after another at work. Anyway, she'll have to do it at least one more time, as another new job awaits on Monday.
I start at 10 am. I'll try to be on time, even if I'm 5 years late.
As I was eating my farewell meal in Pizza Hut that day I was sure I was going off to get a better job. Things already looked promising. In fact I had an interview the week after. It was to do data entry in the NHS. I was pretty confident of getting it. I thought I did pretty well at the interview, although I might have blanched a bit when they explained the part about where I had to empty people's tumours out of buckets and then rinse the buckets out, I'm not sure.
Anyway, I didn't get that job, and I haven't got lots of the other jobs I've gone for since, which seems bad until you consider that some of the jobs I went for, I did get, and many of those it might have been better to get turned down for too. In fact, with hindsight there's only two of the six jobs I've had since that I'm glad I got.
Sometimes it's easy to look back and say 'What was I thinking?' when I look at the jobs I did get, but hated, but then I didn't have the luxury of sitting around on a pile of money waiting for the perfect job to appear, I had to get what I could get, when I could get it.
Getting anything was at times an achievement, considering the huge number of jobs I applied for, but didn't get a look in with.
It's become a standing joke now, that whenever I go out with Ruth, either to the shops or for leisure, we usually visit somewhere during the trip where I've been turned down for a job. She must be so weary of hearing that line when we go out, I might need to buy her some of those glasses with the eyeballs painted on the lenses for Christmas, so she can go to sleep behind them, while still looking interested.
And it can't be easy for her, holding her own career together, while I go through one false dawn after another at work. Anyway, she'll have to do it at least one more time, as another new job awaits on Monday.
I start at 10 am. I'll try to be on time, even if I'm 5 years late.
No comments:
Post a Comment