Tuesday, November 29, 2005
20
On a completely different tack, my Guild Wars mage character, Aileos Brightglade, is now level 20 and has reached the Crystal Desert.
And for the record, I hate rockshot devourers.
Goodbye south bank?Well, today went better than expected.
As expected, I did get a brain cramp as soon as the interview started, leaving me on the verge of gibbering. But I think I pulled through OK in the end.
It's not that I'm shy or a natural born idiot like some, I just suck at interviews. Nothing I want to say comes out right or vanishes from my head completely.
The company's offices are suave... located on near Liverpool Street, where property doesn't come cheap, they have an entire building of their own. No sub letting of any sort. The middle of each 5x5" panel of wallpaper bears the owner's family coat of arms. Proper carpets and wooden furniture. Had a nose around on the net and their net profit last year was a tidy £131.7 million.
I don't know about you, but I could get by on that.
At least I wasn't asked any of those stupid questions that interviewers sometimes dredge up, you know the kind -- "List your 64 greatest strengths, and provide examples how you used each of them constructively".. "A train leaves Waterloo travelling at 1 mph. Another train leaves Inverness travelling at 3 mph. What colour are the drivers socks and why do you think they're that colour?".
Anyhoo, I got a call this afternoon and I've been invited back for a second interview early next week. Result!
The only catch is I have to draw up & talk them through a 5 minute presentation about why I am The Man For The Job.
Dammit all to hell.
I hate talking about myself face to face.
I wonder if I should just email them a link to the blog instead?
Monday, November 28, 2005
Gimme a job mister, please. I'll be good.
Tomorrow morning I get to sneak into The City for an interview with a super duper high powered private merchant banking group.
Which means I have to wear a tie. Ack. I hate ties. It always feels like my head is swelling up.. and that any moment I'll be spraying blood from my eyes in some weird stress-induced defensive reaction.
Or maybe it's just because the only time I wear them these days is for interviews, and I hate interviews with a passion. It must be some sort of Pavlovian response.
Anyway, hold thumbs. If I get it, I finally escape from my own, private Hell Dimension to a world where I'm not treated like Kiepie die Doos*. The doors it will open boggle the mind.
Oh, as an added bonus, the starting salary is almost 5k more than I'm getting at the moment.
* a.k.a the village idiot.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Jeeziz
When did I become such a drama queen?
Fuck.
I need some JD. That'll make things better.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Arg
Somehow, he had lost the IT departmentHere I sit on Sunday night, dreading going back to work tomorrow.
No doubt none of my work has been touched in the 2 days I've been off, so the entire week will be spent getting back on my feet. I'm morbidly curious to see what problems have manifested themselves.
I hate the fact that I feel this way. I'm by no means an optimist but I'm not normally this bad. I used to enjoy going to work... but that whole feeling has been eroded by the constant stream of negative things that have popped up in the last month.
Considering we spend a giant chunk of our days/ lives in the office (or wherever), isn't it fair want to actually enjoy pissing away those 9 hours of our life? Is that really too much too ask?
So, I figure if I'm stuck doing it, I might as well do it somewhere where I won't get treated like a moron. I sat tonight and browsed through some employment search engines and have sent my CV off to a couple of interesting sounding ones. I'm not going to spend the next x many days/weeks/months/ years living in dread of getting up for work. Sod it.
You know, I envy those happy few people who're actually doing what they grew up wanting to do. I sure as hell didn't grow up wanting to do mortgage admin. I just started off doing it as a way to earn some drinking money.
And "zAp!!!" 13 years later I'm still doing it. It's hard to think how different my life would be if the police had accepted my application all those years ago.
I don't think I'd recognise myself.
Aish.
Anyhoo. I'm going to go have my bath and slip in to the soft caress of sleep for a few hours.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Lazy Saturday
Ah, Saturday.
The shopping's been done, the dog is quietly gnawing away at a rawhide chew toy, the missus is ensconced in the kitchen, in the grip of baking fever.
I popped by the Guild Wars website and saw this. How cool is that? To have your favourite RPG weapon immortalised in the game? Time to dust off the drawing kit I think.
The world needs Terraxe.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Penthesileaphobic?
Dear Santa....
I've been trying to figure out why some men are so scared and/or intimidated by strong, attractive & intelligent women, and I can't really get a handle on it.
Whats the attraction of a mindless Barbie clone?
Freud would, I suppose, pin the blame on some repressed angst about their mother.
For my part I reckon the root of it being a fragile ego and lack of confidence.
God forbid she's actually better at something than you, what would the guys down at the pub say? Best to lager up and maybe give her a bit of a slap, just to keep her in place. There, don't you feel better? All strong and macho?
This kind of attitude/ mind-set features quite often in men of any religion who belong to a more "conservative" (i.e "all our thinking was done centuries ago, so we don't have to bother") sect, and men from eastern Europe.
And why do some women feel the need to become a Barbie in the first place? So guys will like you? Sure, you dress and act the part, and then moan that Johnny treats you like dirt and doesn't give you any respect.
The fact is, you're advertising a certain package deal, and that will attract certain types of men.
And that slap from the other night? Well, you've come to thinking that maybe you did deserve it, maybe you were being hard on him. And after all, he did say 'sorry' and buy you those carnations from the petrol station.
Perhaps as a man I simply can't get/ tap into the psyche behind that kind of situation- I can't imgine dumbing myself down/ changing my likes/dislikes just so someone will pay attention to or like me.
If I figured I've have to to that, then they're not really someone I'd be interested in knowing in the first place you know?
I don't get it. Chatting to one of the guys at work, I noticed he had a picture of Pammie Anderson on his desktop. I offered to send him one of Angelina, and he said "Oh god no."
I asked him what his malfunction was, she's gorgeous.. his reply?
"Nah, she's fucking scary mate."
Why? What's so goddamn scary? Performance anxiety, I reckon.
I certainly wouldn't kick her out of bed if she farted.
[links repaired]
Monday, November 14, 2005
smee
Inspired by Cheezy's recent "20 Things" blog, I sat and tried to think of interesting stuff about me... I say interesting since you probably don't know me, therefore almost everything I can say would be something you didn't know, you know?
- I broke my leg when I was six. Not just any old broken though. The tibia was so badly broken they had to put it back together like a jigsaw, and I still have a steel rod in the bone.
- I once shot a frog from a catapult. I have no idea if it survived but it went very, very far.
- I'm not allergic to anything.
- I hate feet. I will happily punch you in the face if you touch me with a bare foot.
- I'm writing a novel.
- I used to be a biker. I will be again.
- I play D & D.
- I hate the worship-her-she's-a-celebrity mentality that saturates this country.
- I hate the fact that newspapers/channels here report conjecture and opinion as news.
- I scoff roasted chestnuts by the bucketload in winter.
- I am a card-carrying member of the Friends of Jack Daniels.
- I support the death penalty.
- I couldn't drink another drop of Southern comfort if you paid me. Not unless you wanted it back a few seconds later.
Oh. One more
- I've got Thursday and Friday off this week
:)
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Amber Ambrosia
Sorry about yesterday's rant. But it had to go somewhere.And for the record, today was equally as hellish as the rest of the week.
But it IS Friday, which means for two days I can try be something other than a miserable old bastard.
I think I'm going to kneel next to my bed tonight and say an earnest prayer of thanks to God for guiding man to the commendable and worshipful art of brewing.
It's amazing how a few pints of good ale can re-boot you in times of need.
A happy, beery fog makes everyone your friend :)
Thursday, November 10, 2005
n.a.a.f.i
Ah sweet Jesus I've had enough.Let it be said that it's a good thing that firearms are hard to come by here... after the last 2 weeks I could quite happily have gone a bit Mickey & Mallory and paid a special visit to some of my 'clients'.
I've had to put up with enough shit this last fortnight to tide me over for a good few years.
It's like nothing I do is actually worth spit, you know? Nothing seems to go the way I want it to, and I get zero support from management... they're so fucking far up the broker's arses I swear they could tell you what their livers tasted like.
I sat there this afternoon wondering why I bother at all after the latest episode. Broker X submitted an application to us at the end of September.
The day after we received it I sent him a full breakdown of what we need to get the application approved. One major obstacle was the guy's proof of income, it was a right fucking mess. Scroll forward 3 weeks when he finally pulls finger and gets the amended documents to me.
Righto, I said, here's the amended list, only 3 easy things to send me now. Monday I got the survey back, all okay. I faxed him a copy, albeit a day after I got the report. Hey, I'm busy- I have to try keep about 60 of these toerags happy at any one time.
So what does the fucktard do? He sends in a complaint-- that I've been sitting on the case doing nothing because it took 48 hours for him to receive his copy. I send a polite (no, really) reply saying so sorry mister X, just an oversight but please could you send me the 3 bits I need and I'll sort the file out a.s.a.p.
This afternoon the grand fromage comes sweeping out of his office clutching a copy of the same fax from the broker, demanding to know what's going on. Off goes the supervisor and him into a closed meeting... shortly after which the case is removed from me because I've upset the bloke and done a crap job etc.
Do I get asked for my opinion? Fuck no. Is the fact that I've been waiting for 3 miserable goddamn documents from him for close on 7 weeks taken into account? Fuck no. Does anyone remember that 48 hours is our stated turnaround time for post received. Oh fuck no. So fucking what that I've been doing unpaid overtime, of my own volition to try keep everyone happy, you know, doing my bit to be a team player.
I get labelled Captain Useless and all my cases get to be 'quality checked' for the next few weeks in the name of Advanced Arselicking 101. The guy in question doesn't even bring in anything resembling a consistent or in any way remarkable level of business.
Ever have one of those moments of absolute clarity where you seem to notice your surroundings for the first time, sit back and just say "Fuck it." ?
That was me today.
Time to spruce up the C.V and go fishing.
Anyone want a hardworking mortgage admin guy? Let me know.
I don't really have fucking tourettes, I promise.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Here we go again
It's now November. Ergo, it must be freezing outside.
This seems to pass for the mentality of some of the people I've seen this last week, particularly today-- walking hunched against a wind only they can feel, their fur lined hoods pulled up and over, all zips firmly fastened, fur lined gloves snugly on their hands, their neck and lower faces swathed in a thick scarf.
And completely oblivious to the guy standing there who's actually aware that in fact, it was 16C today. Cool, but not cold. Yes, it was raining, but that's what brollies are for. I wore a long sleeved shirt today as a concession to the gusty wind.
But come on. If you're wearing farking polar fleeces, waterproof jackets, scarves and enough layers to make a bushman sweat in Antartica now, when the temperature is firmly in the double digits, what the fuck are you going to do when winter actually arrives?
The malady has also begun to affect our train drivers, who have felt compelled to jam the heating on every morning. It's horrible. The carriages are always packed, full of the usual collection of dimwits, snotguzzlers, coughers, idiots with screaming brats, smokers reeking of stale tobacco and the Great Unwashed. All of which are unfortunately alive and generating body heat.
And,as you may or may not now, UK train windows only open about 10cm.
I don't know if the natives here have some sort of in-bred lemming reflex around open windows but I really don't understand it. Anyhoo, the net result is that the carriage becomes a greenhouse (or more accurately once flu starts circulating, an incubator), which is no doubt bliss for our thr anorak-and-fleece brigade.
Sigh. No doubt within the week the anaemic lettuce-lickers in the office will start complaining about the freezing temperatures and we'll have to close the windows to mollycoddle them a bit more.
Pffttt.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Feck
The Geeks-In-Residence at work (a.k.a the I.T department) have, in their infinite wisdom, prohibited access to any blog related sites, as they apparently fall into the same category as chatrooms.
Que?
Fecking eejits! This is what happens when they don't get enough oppotunities to tell someone to switch their PC off then on again during the day.
Grrr.
Hey..
Got a light?
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