Whiny Rant is GO!
This is going to be a bad week…
10:50 I’m writing this on a train to Birmingham New Street from London Euston. I’m on a train, this one specifically, because of a number of reasons.
Initially my alarm clock, the one on my phone, is shit. Thus I awoke forty minutes late and was awake enough to be aware that my bus left Victoria before I had a hope in hell of getting there. Then, the network in the flat stopped working, this meant that I couldn’t access the email with the address of the meeting I need to be at in an hour (I’m just passing Milton Keynes), I might make this. So, at about 0900, having been awake for over an hour I leave the house, not in any mood to introduce myself to the nice Scandinavian looking lady who is making her way into the back garden to get her bike. Now, the bus I booked for £2.00 is gone, that’s ok. I am me and as such there are backup plans. There are a number of trains available from Euston to get me to Brum. Indeed at 0910 at Queenstown Road I figured I’d make the 0940 with luck or the 0950 with a degree of certainty.
No. This was wrong.
The connection from QTR was delayed. So eager bunny that I am, I decided to phone Comic Relief and see if they’d made a decision regarding the job I applied for last week.
I am in the enviable position of being fastest loser.
Score.
I interviewed very well, they thought I’d made a fantastic impression, they said other things too, all nice. In the end it came down to the fact that the two people hired had more experience in an office environment than I did. I accepted defeat surprisingly gracefully and have developed a scowl since.
I don’t know, have I fucked up again folks? Was this move to London a mistake? I mean, I’m enjoying seeing people whom I never get to spend time with otherwise, but London stealing money from my wallet and finding new ways to kick me in the ego is getting old fast. I ought to be able to move into my room this week and that’ll cheer me up, but then I need a means to pay for it. And frankly I don’t have one. What the hell was I thinking?
I have now a book of graduate recruiters, but looking through it, my initial reaction is “I have no ability to do these jobs.” hell, I don’t know what the hell Human Resources or Purchasing involves. Well I guess HR is people management and Purchasing involves the obtaining of things for cash, I understand words… It’s just that, there’s only so many more times I can hear people four years my junior tell me that they earn £28K a year, love their job and are buying a house or investing in something nifty. I need to find something to do that I find rewarding in some sense. And frankly, theatre is just getting depressing.
I’ve left the initial theme behind, sorry. Right, I missed both backup trains owing to a poorly Victoria Line, a late train at QTR and a mad woman absorbing all the staff’s time at Vauxhall. At Euston, they sold me a single instead of a return. FUCK! And I have 15 minutes to get across Brum to my meeting when this train gets in, IF it gets in on time.
Just passing Rugby now.
God. This turned out whiny didn’t it?
OK. Homework:
For me, find out what happened to my positivity, get it back.
For you, figure out some goals for me to have. I have none. At least no really definite ones.
Oh for fuck’s sake. The icing on the cake. A Kit-Kat has melted in my jacket pocket. Cock.
10:50 I’m writing this on a train to Birmingham New Street from London Euston. I’m on a train, this one specifically, because of a number of reasons.
Initially my alarm clock, the one on my phone, is shit. Thus I awoke forty minutes late and was awake enough to be aware that my bus left Victoria before I had a hope in hell of getting there. Then, the network in the flat stopped working, this meant that I couldn’t access the email with the address of the meeting I need to be at in an hour (I’m just passing Milton Keynes), I might make this. So, at about 0900, having been awake for over an hour I leave the house, not in any mood to introduce myself to the nice Scandinavian looking lady who is making her way into the back garden to get her bike. Now, the bus I booked for £2.00 is gone, that’s ok. I am me and as such there are backup plans. There are a number of trains available from Euston to get me to Brum. Indeed at 0910 at Queenstown Road I figured I’d make the 0940 with luck or the 0950 with a degree of certainty.
No. This was wrong.
The connection from QTR was delayed. So eager bunny that I am, I decided to phone Comic Relief and see if they’d made a decision regarding the job I applied for last week.
I am in the enviable position of being fastest loser.
Score.
I interviewed very well, they thought I’d made a fantastic impression, they said other things too, all nice. In the end it came down to the fact that the two people hired had more experience in an office environment than I did. I accepted defeat surprisingly gracefully and have developed a scowl since.
I don’t know, have I fucked up again folks? Was this move to London a mistake? I mean, I’m enjoying seeing people whom I never get to spend time with otherwise, but London stealing money from my wallet and finding new ways to kick me in the ego is getting old fast. I ought to be able to move into my room this week and that’ll cheer me up, but then I need a means to pay for it. And frankly I don’t have one. What the hell was I thinking?
I have now a book of graduate recruiters, but looking through it, my initial reaction is “I have no ability to do these jobs.” hell, I don’t know what the hell Human Resources or Purchasing involves. Well I guess HR is people management and Purchasing involves the obtaining of things for cash, I understand words… It’s just that, there’s only so many more times I can hear people four years my junior tell me that they earn £28K a year, love their job and are buying a house or investing in something nifty. I need to find something to do that I find rewarding in some sense. And frankly, theatre is just getting depressing.
I’ve left the initial theme behind, sorry. Right, I missed both backup trains owing to a poorly Victoria Line, a late train at QTR and a mad woman absorbing all the staff’s time at Vauxhall. At Euston, they sold me a single instead of a return. FUCK! And I have 15 minutes to get across Brum to my meeting when this train gets in, IF it gets in on time.
Just passing Rugby now.
God. This turned out whiny didn’t it?
OK. Homework:
For me, find out what happened to my positivity, get it back.
For you, figure out some goals for me to have. I have none. At least no really definite ones.
Oh for fuck’s sake. The icing on the cake. A Kit-Kat has melted in my jacket pocket. Cock.