Post Interview

(My former Temp Agency) wants to employ me, but all the training sessions for (new system) are fully booked for February… and I can't commence with them until I have been trained on the new product. I can't go out to client's offices until I know how the updated system works. C will put me into the first available training session, but she can’t tell me when that will be.

C said that she hoped that I didn’t get a job before she was able to give me a job. She's short staffed and she really wants me, but...

That was nice, you know. I can’t tell you how long it has been since a work place told/said/implied that I was a valued employee.

Do companies actually tell their employees that they are worthwhile? Really?

Actually, that is just my last work place, it just seems like “a long time” because I worked for them for a long time.

But, you see, I want to get going now, it is time. I’m back in work mode, which is in direct proportion to how concerned I am about my bank balance running dry. If I have to work, bring it on.

I want to start earning.


Afterward the interview, I messaged Barb to see if she wanted a coffee, but she didn’t answer. She is the last soldier left standing in the old black salt mines, the one left behind. She is always the one with the gossip, but she will only tell in person, face to face. There is too much fear of "big brother" otherwise for her. She has asked me many times to catch up and I have meant to, just today she didn’t answer. Isn’t that always the way? Or are they simply the times we remember?

While I was waiting for her not to answer, as it turned out, I realised I wanted a piss, so I headed down to 600 Bourke and used the toilet. I bought my favourite roll, chicken, avocado and bacon afterwards at Nashi and then I hung out a bit out the front as I ate it, as I messaged Sam over the road in his building. How convenient that would be now.


Yes, I hung out at the gates to hades? Back to the scene of the massacre, back to the place of nightmares. What is that? It is sick! It is all a part of the illness, of the malaise that is the black law firm; the hoard of horrors, the bunch of bastards, the puffed up narcissistic hollow men.

I was drawn to it, I was. Return to the scene of the crime... to the bosom, the snatch of evil. I stood out the front like I was looking for them, waiting for them, hoping to bump into one of them.

What is that? Look at me! I’m still here! Still standing. Yes, I’m fine thanks, doing well, actually.

Apparently, the dire attrition continues. The new HR director has left, as has the senior HR manager. Both left without jobs to go to. Just had enough, apparently. Too much poison and bile. Too much show and not enough style.


I guess the old war horse Lexie Lou will come trotting her fat arse back from oblivion, like she has before.

“No wucken furries, I’ll look after yous until ya foind someone else.”

The irony is that she has always been apart of the problem, an instigator of much pain for the punters. Teflon Lexie, nothing was ever her fault.

BUT, THEY ARE ALL TEFLON COATED, all except me and you. But the execs… yup! That’s how the world works, haven’t you worked that out by now. Those in charge will always go on. And those who are not, will be sacrificed so the execs can continue for another day. It is the privilege of position. Don’t you know that?

“Why wasn’t I told,” was always her war cry! “Why didn’t someone tell me.” Which, amazingly work for her. WTF?

I still reckon she must have been licking the ice queen CEO’s snatch. Apparently, whatever it took, was our Lexie Lou’s work ethic. How else would an incompetent get to director status?

I saw a retard walking down Bourke Street as I was walking up, who looked like the fat boy finance director, I kid you not. Same round plain face, same sparse ginger hair, same Humpty Dumpty body shape, same dishevelled dress style.

What between him and the department manager, and my nemesis, skinny bitch… pinch faced, uptight cadaver, with a face and hair resembling Norman Bates mother... they give finance executives a bad name. At least the Skinny Bitch isn’t breeding like the fat boy is with his plain Dough-Faced wife. I think we are up to number three? Of course, what with the anorexia and the poisonous bile, the Skinny Bitch doesn't have anything fertile inside her… anywhere. He cunt would resemble a barren, cobweb infest cave that no man (or woman, let’s not be sexist) has wanted to go near in years. Talk about an inhospitable environment. Talk about vagina dentata.

I shook and took myself in hand. What am I doing, I though. It was like being at the scene of a car crash, I just couldn’t look… er walk away.

What am I doing? What was I doing?


I walked home in the lovely afternoon, with the cool breeze and the gentle sunshine, somehow feeling better and lighter for having left it all behind. I chuckled a bit at my thoughts of my old place of employment. I shouldn't even think about them, but I was drawn, drawn back to the building. As one of the other black law firms old employees said recently, Unless you worked there you wouldn't understand. And yes, we probably all need group therapy.


I was heading to Bread Top to buy a couple of buns to cheer me up. I had decided, the decision had been made. I’d even told Sam. I had a certain sense of hang-the-fat anticipation. Yum! Yum! Bring it on. I was having a milk crunch and cream and red bean. My mouth was salivating. I'd been a good boy, I deserved it. But BT was closed for renovations. WHAT? Bloody, buggery, bum! bum! bum! I stood out the front open mouth for a while, like a clown at the carnival... not knowing what to do.

Sam lol’d me three times when I told him.


I headed home. It was nice to walk and smell the air, even though I had a tram ticket. The afternoon was quite lovely, crisp and clear and bright. Fresh. Sparkling. Clean. Blue. There was a certain iridescence to it. No, there was. You know when the sun is so crisp it almost reflects on the air. Bright and shiny.

I wandered up my street to my front door trying to think of the things that I keep forgetting to do. Buy fly spray, to deal with the colony of moths in residence in the pantry, silicone the roof, to stop it dripping every time is rains, buy the cat good cat food, to stem the dramatic weight loss.

Oh, I’ve done those. Well two out of three ain’t bad, as they say. The cat food I used to buy her is $29.50 for a kilo and the cat food she gets now, will continue to get, is $4.50. Enjoy Missy.

However…

My house insurance lapsed on 5th February, and, I guess, it being the 07th already I needed to do something about it. It came in at some astronomical price this year, it had increased significantly. It’s funny when you work you just accept bills creeping up and up and up and up. But, when you can’t, as easily, afford to pay them “just like that” any longer, it is amazing what reductions you can achieve.

I just reduced my insurance premium from $2, 685 to $1,052.60 and if I deleted contents insurance I could reduce it further to $776.58

Do you think I need contents insurance?

I've had contents insurance for twenty five years and have never claimed. I would have paid for all of my stuff by now, I think. I've got to wonder with all of these things, If I'd invested the money from the very beginning?

Rough calculations, based on very rough figures, I have paid 50k in contents insurance, enough to replace a good number of my items should anything have had happened?

What does everyone else have?

16.30 – I miss Mark and Luke for questions like all of these…

Skype message to Mark and Luke

Hello, how are you?

Hello hello wave smile little dance tip my hat and courtesy.