Although I’m still awaiting a contract with the right start date (!), I’ve got a job starting next week; although it’s not the one I wanted, it’s something I would find bearable, and it’ll pay the bills (for a few months).
It’s a shame about the “great” job, though: it took about a week after my second interview (apparently due to the Chicago-based boss having a family emergency) to find out they’d chosen the other candidate, and I’ve not received anything even approximating feedback. However, I reckon it’s for the best, as this job would have involved troubleshooting the software they produce on behalf of clients, rather than Windows software on behalf of employees (like wot I trained for), and in truth it appealed to me for three reasons that shouldn’t turn the head of a moralising person such as myself:
- The office is right next to Waterloo station, meaning I could have commuted with ease both from here (a Charing Cross branch location means being able to get a virtually empty train that’s come down from Mill Hill East) and from a putative future house in the Surrey area (assuming South West Trains had gotten their act together by then);
- I’d have had the chance to work with Americans (albeit virtually via Skype), and perhaps the prospect of going on a placement abroad and thus away from this cesspool country that spawned me;
- MONEY — I let the notion of working closely with the legal industry make me think I’d have untold riches waiting for me if I stuck it out.
So, for moral and karmic reasons, it’s probably better I didn’t get this job. The one I got instead, for which I’d interviewed the previous day (but also arranged through my IT agency), will involve more data entry and analysis than actual IT troubleshooting on my part, but it’ll at least mean I’m working, and I’ll have the prospect of making myself indispensable and being kept on in another role, as happened at Camden (but hopefully this time in a more IT-focused role). Thus, I’m pleased to have a job again.
(Just a pity I’ll have to commute to King’s Cross every day, a horrific prospect I thought I’d escaped when I accepted voluntary redundancy from Camden! Will I have to get used to standing on a crowded Bank branch train every day? Or shall I get a Charing Cross branch train, get off at Euston, and have a much longer walk at the end? Bah, at least it doesn’t involve waiting for a bus on a cold night!)
And so it came to pass, when I found out that I’d got this job, that my feelings of anxiety and “nameless horror” began to recede, and I regained the ability to get up in the morning without gagging from nausea. So quickly do I seem to recover from hardship the moment things start going my way — but I suppose the real reason I’ve survived a virtual rerun of late 2011 to early 2012 is that I’ve got friends and activities in London, and a closer relationship with my mother and grandmother than I enjoyed before (rescuing Mumsy from hospital in late 2012 seemed to be the clincher).
I’m not sure whether the lack of a hard time limit (29th January 2012 was the last day I could have kept my stuff at Caledonian Road) made things better this time: yeah, I was being paid money by Uncle Sucker’s limey cousin to keep applying for jobs, and indeed I’ve got another housing benefit payment coming on Monday (probably) that’ll restore some of my ravaged bank balance before I start work on Thursday, but still, it’s been very demoralising having to sit here every day, feeling guilty for turning the heating on, or going to see movies with “best mate” when you consider how much the cinema (and its snacks!) costs these days.
But it’s all over: I’ve only a few more days to wait, and I’ll be gainfully employed once again. I’ve got until Thursday to complete the process of clearing out old junk from my room, copying the advert breaks from old Star Trek recordings onto DVD so I can rip them and post them to YouTube (yes, that is an actual thing), and hopefully going to central London to sell old stuff and donate blood, the latter being something I scandalously haven’t done since November 2013!
My only concern about this job — aside from the fact that it’ll only last between 3 and 6 months, as it’ll count as experience to go on my CV — is that it feels a bit like a step backwards: I’ll be working 9 to 5, Monday to Friday, doing something relatively easy in an office, and I wonder if my desperate, unspoken “wish” to go back to the easy days at Camden has been heard and granted. I admit, mid-2013 to mid-2014 was probably the happiest time of my life, but I don’t want to be moving backwards into an “easier” admin job — remember when I described that as like running home to mother?
I still want to work in IT, and perhaps my newest friend (another potential date who decided she didn’t like me “that way”, but who at least acknowledges I’m awesome) has given me a good way forward: working for a Japanese business or bank with an office in central London. I’ve not been able to do much Nihongo no benkyou in recent years thanks to my IT studies, but we’ll see if I can regain my ability to at least understand Japanese people when they talk, and not keep repeating the same practised phrases, such as kore made Nihon ni itta koto ga arimasen. It’d mean my Japanese studies would count for something other than trying to get dates with college girls from the Far East (but hopefully that as well!)
Yes, I’m back to searching for a girlfriend — one of the ways in which I aim to recover from my recent career-related darkness — and while a contract job on an IT helpdesk isn’t the most glamorous of occupations, the fact that I’m working at all will mean I feel confident enough to start chatting women up again (or at least no less confident than before). Although I probably won’t be able to afford to see a dating coach until my career really takes off, I can certainly go to singles events again — and I can pay my personal trainer to improve my physique, so that one lucky girl is delighted to see me with my shirt off…
(Yes, or perhaps several lucky girls — and I won’t even make them form a queue!)
It’s a strange contrast with how I felt during the first half of last week, praying to God and the spirits of my ancestors (well, my maternal grandfather and uncle) that I’d get the “great” job, or at least be able to cope. Maybe they helped, or maybe I was talking to nothingness — but I’m certainly not one to hold the quiet practice of religion against anyone, so we’ll agree that at the very least it helps a person cope, and leave it at that.
I’ve been feeling sick and scared a great deal recently, but now that I’ve got more than just vague hope of a job in the near future, I can announce:
DAVE-ROS LIVES… AGAIN!