Friday, June 23, 2006

Job

Needed some dough. Hairy man and I are planning a trip to Bordeax for a week at the end of this summer. I need money. For that, and for groceries, and for my winter training camp, and for my own piece of mind. (I really hate living on savings. It makes me terribly worried every time I have to make a simple purchase, and I'm sick and fucking tired of living off Sainsbury's basics pasta. *gags*)

So needed a job.

I needed a temporary (summer only), part-time job. (My visa only allows me to work 20 hours a week.)

They are few and far between.

At the Hairy Man's suggestion I hit the pavement and spent an afternoon walking between temp agencies with a stack of CV's in my hand. As luck would hav it, there are no fewer than ELEVEN temp agencies within a 2-minute's walk of my flat. Scary.

I hit all eleven. Most of the told me to bug off. A few took my CV. The last one, the very last temp agency in Bristol, hired me on the spot.

Now I work 15 hours a week at a DHL shipping depot.

This is my job:
I scan squarish things with a scanny thing that beeps.
I make beeping noises. *Beep, beep!*
I stick sticky things on the squarish things.
(Unless the squarish things aren't squarish, but lumpy. Then sometimes the sticky things don't want to stick and I cry.)
Then I shove the squarish sticky things down the rolly things and they go bye-bye, and the next squarish thing appears in front of me. Magic!

4 comments:

hendrix said...

"I'm sick and fucking tired of living off Sainsbury's basics pasta. *gags*" Having spent much time living off Asda's basics pasta, have you tried it with a garlic, parsley and cream sauce (I'm presupposing you like garlic and aren't lacto-intolerant here). F and I spent years living on that!

Anyway. Congrats on the job!! Agencies are a bitch if you only have a limited number of hours a week to work in. One of my (many) uni jobs was counting cars...for which I had to get up at 4am and spend ten hours standing at motorway roundabout making a mark for each car that went past. I got paid the princely sum of £40 a day (before tax) which to me was riches beyond my wildest dreams!

BTW. Bordeaux is stunning! Glad you decided to take H up on his offer of the week in France!!!

No Shit Sherlock said...

Woo! Come join the ranks of the employed! I work in a job with my name tag on, but it doesn't sound as interesting as yours.

Chaucer's Bitch said...

HC- I love garlicky cream sauce, but there's only so much pasta i can eat no matter what i do to it.

Wow, that sounds like it might actually be worse than my worst job ever, and that's saying something!

It wasn't a matter of do i/don't i want to go. it's a matter of can we afford it/when can we both get the time off. we'll definately go if we can finagle it.

NSS: I'll see your nametag and raise you one flourescent yellow, reflective, hi-vis waistcoat! Stylin'.

Billy said...

I remember pounding the streets of Bristol looking for a temp job.

I did find an agency that would take me and as a result I've cleaned up the rooms or kitchen of most hotels in central Bristol/ Clifton