Tuesday, September 30, 2003

Back to school

by Suw on September 30, 2003

This given to me by a mate who reads the Mirror (I never touch the filth, myself):

Pet groomer Glenda Johnson, 42, is learning Welsh so dogs in Llangybi, Carmarthenshire, can understand her commands.

Seems ludicrous until you remember the case of the farmer who bought a load of French dairy cows and then had to hire a French cowherd because they couldn't understand English.

I know for sure that Fflwff is multilingual – she can ignore me in pretty much any language I choose.

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Celeb infiltration continues

by Suw on September 30, 2003

Last night it was Bill Gates. Eurgh. He was a computing professor at the university I was studying at, and I liked him…

My subconscious is just winding me up on purpose now.

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Somebody, please, just give me a damn job

by Suw on September 30, 2003

Looking for jobs again this morning. Still not finding anything at all. So far I've had not even so much as a snifter of interest from any agent – they all keep telling me that the market's quiet, and what am I doing in Dorset if I want work up north?

Towards the end of last week I nagged one agent about a specific role I'd hoped they'd put me forward for – a project management job in Leeds which I think I could have done with my eyes shut, both hands tied behind my back, standing on my head in the corner of the room humming the Marseillaise. I was told, however, that my CV wasn't 'strong enough' and that although I was willing (nay, eager) to relocate, they still thought I was living in the wrong place so wouldn't be bothering to put my CV forward to the client anyway.

This whole process is soul-destroying. I've now spoken to 25 different agencies, not one of whom has had anything even vaguely encouraging to say. Every time I do ring up about a specific job, I find that I'm just one key skill short (usually 'Prince 2 Certification'). It's like continually sticking your head above the parapet just to have some bugger put an arrow through your hat each and every time.

Part of me wants to take a risk, to just get on a train and go up north and bang on people's doors until someone gives me a job. Of course, I have no money for the train fare, nowhere to live once I get up there, and a little voice in my head that says, 'For sake of the little fishes, you're supposed to be finding a way to make your life easier, not making it harder. Just bloody wait.'

I've never been patient, though. It's one of my more endearing traits. I want action, and I want it now. Sod the cost.

But I keep telling myself to wait, that something will come up eventually, that this whole poxy situation will get sorted out in the end. Just keep looking, keep applying and at some point someone will look at my CV, think 'Wow, this girl's exactly who we need in our company!', and things will all pan out ok.

Someone please tell me that's true.

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Limited Edition T-Shirt

by Suw on September 30, 2003

Book of Kells Dog t-shirt, sweatshirts and hoodies.
From ?15.50.

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From five to one

by Suw on September 30, 2003

Upon closer inspection, four of those jobs I printed out turned out to be actually the same job, just advertised by different agencies and using slightly different descriptions. I wish they wouldn't do that. Still, it's a job I can do with both hands tied behind my back, standing in the corner… ok, you get the picture. I've applied and we'll see what happens.

The fifth required a knowledge of web back ends that I don't have, so a non-starter really.

But anyway, that's one job applied for and one new agency contacted. Not so bad.

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Recently I noticed on Friendster that my network of people appeared to include a Rather Famous Musician (although he seems to have gone now). I was linked to this person by one of my friends, who had written a testimonial for said musician, so I'm pretty certain it was him. I found myself bemused to be so close, cyberly anyway, to this particular person as he is someone I admire immensely. Despite, or perhaps because of, that admiration, I doubt very much that I would ever have contacted him if he'd stayed around, even though it would have been easy to send him a little message.

This particular musician has in the past, though, turned up on his own messageboard in order to dispel rumours. When he did, the debate raged long and hard as to whether it was really him or not, although sadly he didn't stick around long enough to enter into any sort of real conversation.

Another Rather Famous Musician, Frank Black, recently had similar problems verifying his own identity on his own messageboard, as this great post on Idle Words recounts. (Via the rather wonderful Tom Coates.)

Btw, I now have 45,424 people in my Friendster network. That's slightly scary.

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