Well, I finally have something interesting to post about.
For anyone who was reading my blog before I moved in with Lori, bloggily speaking, you'll remember that one of the jobs I interviewed for kept delaying for some reason. Then I found out that their call centre burned to the ground.
I've been having the most horrendous time trying to get them to tell me if I've got the job, or if I should give up on it. They couldn't tell me anything. Greenock told me to call Manchester (rebuilt after fire), Manchester said to call Greenock, Greenock said to phone someone else in Greenock, someone else in Greenock said "why the crap are you phoning me?". Blablabla.
Anyway, I got a call yesterday or the day before, can't remember, I start on Monday. In a respectable bank job, dealing with people's mortgages. Hurray.
I have to work next weekend in KFC, but that only leaves me with three shifts of selling chicken to idiots.
You have no idea how good that feels. Unless you've worked in a fast food place, which will probably be a fair number of the readers. So maybe you do. Myeh, what do I care, I'm exulting in the grownupness of a real, Monday to Friday job.
I might not even have to work the nasty hours I thought I did (2-10). But we'll see about that.