I had a big job interview this morning. When I found out who the company was, I wanted the job even more. I felt like I was getting quite good at this job interview thing. I even know how to handle that ‘So what would you describe as your weaknesses?’ question. Even when I had the cocky interviewer who kept rebutting ‘Yes… but those are just things you can get better at. What are your real weaknesses?’ I don’t know. Fuckwit interviewers, maybe?
When I arrived at the reception for the recruitment company, I was told to take a seat, and the woman I was seeing would interview me in around five minutes. I realised this was probably the first reception I’d ever been to that actually stocked magazines of interest. I’d already read the current issue of Wired, but PC Gamer and Edge were both available for perusal too (although in true reception style, they were both at least six months old).
I was reading a sneak preview of Ultima Online 2, and studying an screenshot of a monster in the game, when my interviewer appeared before me. She had a horrifyingly similar appearance to the monster I had just been looking at, so I must have looked a little startled after that.
What she said next horrified me even more.
Ultima Online monster interviewer: Why don’t we go to a cafe and have a chat there?
Shit! A cafe – somewhere totally out of my depth. Why did this agency have to take the ‘people’ angle of running things? Dammit! I’d been psyching up for a ‘regular’ job agency interview!
As we approached the cafe, I realised I’d probably have to purchase a coffee as well. It’s no secret that buying coffee frightens me, especially after visiting Starbucks with their confronting menu of 101 different kinds of coffee. All I want is just coffee, godammit! No fancy shmancy shlockafrappacinos!
As we continued on our way to the cafe, the woman tried to make small talk, but I wasn’t biting. I was convinced this was part of the interview. Was there any specific time that our interview officially began? Had it already started? Was she already checking me out amongst this small talk?
Unfortunately, rather than try to impress the woman, I simply responded to everything she said with ‘Oh, ha ha ha!’ I’m sure I did wonders to shatter the dumb blonde stereotype today.
As we entered the cafe, she casually asked what I’d like to drink. My mind raced. Could I safely ask for ‘just a coffee’? Would there be any more to it than that? I’d heard all that talk about ‘long black’ and ‘short white’ and I must admit I’ve no idea what it all means.
I considered asking for a hot chocolate, but it was mid-morning by this stage, and that kind of drink is only acceptable really early in the morning. Hell, it felt like I was having a power-lunch already, doing major corporate deals over… well, some sort of coffee.
‘Let me just check,’ I garbled. I have a habit of filling in awkward silences with even more awkward small talk. Who the hell asks to look at a menu when all they’re being asked for is a drink?
I was saved by a cappucino. I’ve ordered this on safe grounds before and knew I couldn’t go too wrong. I advised her of my choice and felt fairly safe when she nodded and said that was okay. Hell, the whole cafe thing wasn’t even bothering me anymore now I’d gotten over the first initial hurdle.
She trotted off to get the drinks and engaged in some very animated conversation with the waiter. Obviously she took her interviewees here quite often. I was rather alarmed when the conversation appeared to lead into the primary stages of foreplay. After the five minute mark, I wondered if she had forgotten about me. It did seem rather rude, after all – but then again I was scoring a free cappucino out of this (even though I didn’t want one). Oh, and a job, too.
A short time later, she strolled back with my cappucino in her left hand and a bottle of Coke in her right. ‘I’ve already had my coffee for the morning,’ she stated. ‘I need my sugar rush now.’
This wasn’t fair! If I had have known soft drinks were passable I would have got a Coke too. Now I was in the mood for a chilled, fizzy, bubbly, brown and wet drink. Not a bloody cappucino.
I poured the sugar half-heartedly into my cup as she sat there gleefully slurping on her straw, still eyeing off the waiter. (From the way she was using the straw, I suspect the foreplay hadn’t yet stopped). The froth in my cup rose up as I added the sugar, as if it was jeering me. ‘Ner, ner… this isn’t Coke, sucker,’ it taunted.
It was at this point a man on one of those little scooters scooted into the cafe, did a 180 degree turn when he reached our table, then scooted back out. Seeing as I’d only had 5 hours sleep the night before, things were starting to confuse and alarm me at this stage. The ambiguous waiter, the sudden and rather rude apperance of the scooter, and the first sarcastic cappucino I’d ever consumed were all adding up to forecast a rather bad job interview.
Yet somehow she seemed as distracted as I was. Once I found out who the company was I almost hit the roof in excitement, and started to take things a little more seriously. She promised she’d call me by the end of today with a definite interview time with the company (although she hasn’t yet rung me as I type this).
Because I had my mind on other things, the cappucino was consumed fairly quickly. Unfortunately, because I’m not used to drinking such milky beverages, I was an unaware victim of milk moustache. To the point where the interviewer was so embarassed she subtly brought it to my attention by stroking her moustache (she actually had one – just like the hairy monster in the magazine I was looking at).
*****
There’s an abandoned mattress out the front of our units. I don’t know how such things find their way to places like this (‘Where can we dump the old mattress?’ ‘Out the front of the house!’), but it’s a really ratty old thing. Still, I’m rather surprised that this being the western suburbs and all, that nobody has stolen it/sold it to Cash Converters.
Stealing a used mattress is a bad thing, as one of my old university friends could tell you. As university students we couldn’t really afford anything of value, so when he saw an abandoned mattress out the front of someone’s house once, he just pulled over and took it. Three weeks later, he had a healthy dose of crabs. I guess he got two things for free.
We have new neighbours across the hall. They’re a married couple (I think) who seem well on the way to divorce. There’s usually at least one of them halfway down the stairs yelling at their spouse as they make a hasty retreat.
They play gospel music all day, too. The real tambourine-shaking stuff. I hope Wezza downstairs turns up his metal, so we can have our own little battle of good-and-evil.
Speaking of neighbours, I haven’t seen Adam’s brothers for quite some time now. Despite the fact they both live in the same block of units as us, they remain a bit of an enigma.
Actually, I know they went out to some big party on the weekend. I always love to visit them when they’ve got a hangover. Although they drink as much as Adam and I do, their bodies don’t tend to handle it quite as well now that they’re in their mid-thirties. It’s always a laugh to see them rolling around the floor on a Sunday morning with their now-inevitable hangovers.
It was quite strange the first time I entered their flat. It’s on the opposite side of the building to my unit, so everything is inverted. It’s so trippy.
It’s always weird seeing another unit in the block of units you live in. It either makes you realise how unlucky you are that you didn’t get the flat with the built-in clothes drier, or realise how lucky you are that you didn’t get the flat that smells like dog. Sometimes people around here leave the doors open, and I realise that our pigsty could look quite nice if we added indoor plants and little doileys like these people, but… come on. Doileys? I wouldn’t even know where to get those. Nor do I want to. We’ve already been accused by Torana a while ago of having the lamest lightshades he’s ever seen (they looked like porcelain breasts complete with gold nipples, until we took them down).
I’ve lived in a few interesting places, actually. One of the most unusual places was when I was living with a librarian last year. She insisted on leaving the front and back doors open at all times, and these were at either end of a passageway through the house. There was this constant wind tunnel with either chilling breezes or hot gusts flowing through. This, in addition to the fart-type odour the nearby ocean blew into the house.
*****
I’ve only eaten toast today. Lots of it. I think that’s a real sign that you’ve moved out of home, when you really start to appreciate toasted bread. It becomes an addiction – you can quite happily sit there and munch your way through a whole loaf. You know you’re hardcore when you’re eating margarine on bread and that’s all.
Of course, you can’t really eat toast for dinner. Last night I threw together some nachos, after arguing with Adam over if you put mince meat in nachos or not. (I’m convinced you don’t but he swears it’s the done thing). As I was strolling around the nearby supermarket yesterday afternoon buying the necessary ingredients, I was trying to figure out which corn chips to buy when:
Fellow nachos purchaser: (looks in my shopping trolley) Are you making nachos too?
Me: Yeah.
Fellow nachos purchaser: I love nachos. I have them almost every night.
Me: So what corn chips do you get? I don’t know which ones.
Fellow nachos purchaser: Oh, there’s a golden rule. Only get Doritos.
Me: Is that so?
Fellow nachos purchaser: Nothing else is good enough.
Me: Interesting. I could have made a very unwise generic brand purchase just then, if it wasn’t for you.
Fellow nachos purchaser: Oh, I’m very knowlegeable on the subject.
Me: Okay, well… (I realise I’m having an extended conversation about corn chips and try to exit gracefully) Um… (slowly walking towards checkout)
Fellow nachos purchaser: I am the corn chip king!
Hang on. I thought I was the corn chip king!
*****
Such are the ways of the local shopping centre. I much prefer smaller, local shopping centres to the bustle of the city – especially in terms of customer service (are you listening, Coles Express?) At least the local storeowners get to know you. You can measure when you’ve truly been accepted into the community by using the Bonus Dim Sim rule: when you make an order at the local fish & chip shop and the person serving you throws in a few extra dim sims for free – that’s when you’ve made your mark.
So employment-wise, at this stage it’s a toss-up between two jobs, really. I’ve only gone to interviews with the job agencies so far – I’m yet to speak to the companies that would be hiring me. Tomorrow I’m going to speak to the company who the Potato Chip Interviewer is setting me up with, and the Cafe Interviewer is going to organise an interview for me soon too. Both jobs are awesome, but if I got the job I had the interview for this morning I’d be truly stoked.
I really want to settle myself in a company and work my way up. I’m not 100% sure where I want to go with my career, so a position with room to move would be nice. Of course, I could get promoted far quicker if I slept my way to the top.
In fact, to get to the top, I would even be prepared to sleep with:
* The cleaner
* Anyone from dispatch
* Anyone due for retirement
* Anyone who doesn’t work for the company
* The office cat