I could describe life as a divine limbo, but that would be simplifying matters.
Hell is too strong. Limbo would be a better word to place where I am at present.
In Dante's Divine Comedy, Dante is taken through the nine levels of Hell by the poet Virgil. He wanders down and down and down meeting all sorts of characters. I've been pondering this a bit. If I were in Hell, just where would I sit? I know that the sixth circle is the place I would fit best, the zone equiped for heretics. This sixth circle of Hell is an interesting place as the portal to the future has been shut out. For a tarot reader, this place would be a true hell, for there are times where you do see the future, but they are pure, unexpected, momentary glances, where you do get a glimspe of the future.
In Dante's world, Limbo, or the first circle of Hell, is reserved for unbaptised babies and virtuous pagans. Well, I was baptised many years ago though I've given back my Christian ticket, and I'm sorta virtuous some of the time - depends how you define being virtuous.
Limbo is a great place. It's where I am at present - well, job wise any way.
I had four company interviews last week. All went well. I have another tomorrow afternoon.
Interview one at a consulting company - it was my second interview. Got on very well with the woman who interviewed me - no-nonsense and straight to the point. It appears I'm a bit pricy. The work looks interesting and varied. Was told I'd hear from them by the end of the week. It's now Sunday. Hmmm. Not holding out hope, but it could be that they are 1) haggling over money or 2) can't be asked to write the rejection letter.
This would be the preferred job - I like the people I met there. I also turned up to the first interview at this company thinking I was seeing an agency - so I didn't have a scrap of make up on my face, I had neat business casual on, my hair had not been tamed into a bun or straightened - it was out in it's rock star glory - - and I was running 15 minutes late - though I blame the tram and I did call ahead. I gave my best agency schpeil. At agencies you get the following answers from me - among other technical things that they need to know:
Interviewer: What's the difference between telecommunications and banking for you?
Pandora: Telcos have guys in jeans who want to play with electrical things and drink beer. Banking has wankers in suits who appear to make far too much money and drink wine.
Interviewer: How do you deal with difficult people?
Pandora: Offer beer or chocolate - that normally fixes most things. I also do a good line in Buffy and have opinions on some of the Star Trek series.
Interviewer: What are your strengths?
Pandora: I can talk to anybody, I have no fear about asking questions and I have a finely atuned bullshit meter.
Interviewer: What are your weaknesses?
Pandora. I'm from Myponga, South Australia and I barrack for the Crows. I'm not sure if this is a weakness or a liability. Oh, and I get bored easily. You have to keep my busy or I get destructive. Like a kitten.
Interviewer: What are your career aspirations?
Pandora: I want to be the next JK Rowling, but not so twee.
Interviewer: Why did you move from testing to business analysis?
Pandora: I'm a better fit as a BA - I'm not great at starting at a screen and grunting for ten hours a day.
Somehow, these answers got me a seat on a Business Analyst test (which I passed) and a second interview.
Interview number two on Tuesday was with another consulting company. 8.30 am interview. Also got on well with the fellow interviewing me. This, like the one the day before, was a second interview. This one I was in my best Jessica Rabbit's accountant sister's garb. Not a hair out of place. Was also told I'd hear by the end of the week. Considering that the last time this company told me this it took them nearly a month to get back to me I was not holding my breath. Probably not too expensive for this role, would still be nice to know where I stand. Mind you, having to dress in a suit daily - do I really want to do this? Can I do this? I wear stockings for NOBODY. And I look like a limping transvestite in heels over two inches....
Interview number three on Wednesday was for a contract role with a telco. Excellent interview, but was pipped at the post by somebody with a lot more experience. Was told that if there were two roles they would have taken me on in a heartbeat. Great feedback, and the interviewing PM will send round recommendations and see what goes. The agent was suitably impressed with the feedback so I know I have his attention.
Interview number four was at a mid-level superannuation company. Went back to the agency and said that if they wanted me it would be on a contract basis first up. Didn't get the feeling I wanted to be there - I think I'm a bit rowdy for them. Super companies appear to like their employees to be a bit staider. I'm not like that. No feedback yet. Joy.
There was also the obligatory pimp interviews, phone calls and trawling over Seek.com looking for work.
As I've been off work for three months now, I'm at the stage where I'd be quite happy to go temping now while the right job comes up - answer phones, file, do computer stuff way below my abilities just to get some money in and my brain working. I have a few numbers to call. This is Plan C and will be put into effect before I'm on the bones of my bum financially - but hopefully it won't come to this.
I also have an interview tomorrow afternoon with a health fund for a nerd liaison role with them. (Nerd liaison is my true role in IT. If I'm asked what I do, I normally say "Something with computers," but nerd liaison is my real job description - I sit between the business and the nerds and translate. It's fun in a masochistic sort of way. My friend Mac recommended me for this role. It's also spitting distance from home, the gym. Walking to work would take ten minutes. There are good and bad things about this. I'd miss lunch with friends- but I believe there is a city office that needs regular visiting to see the business.
Something will turn up soon - looking at my cards, things are changing.
Just like me. I watch myself in interviews. Where did this confident, courageous, slightly wacky, rather intelligent woman sprout from? Why are her trousers falling off her hips? Why does she have the inner glow.
This three months "off" has really been a godsend.
Wish me luck the right thing comes soon.
_______________________________________________________________________
Project Pandora Update: Day 35
Current weight: 86.5 kg
It's getting to the danger zone for me. Most of my posse mates are striking issues with their physical or mental well being. Thankfully most of these are temporary glitches and I'm watching as they battle out of the doldrums to get back on track. But I seem to be going great guns still.
This program is fantastic!
I did hit a wall on Thursday evening. Went to train with Pinochet, managed to do two bent over rows, felt ill - rather faint and dizzy - so I excused myself, went home and cuddled the cat in front of the telly. I reckon this was partly interview stress and partly exhaustion. Friday I had a quiet day. Went to lunchtime Pump and spent a day at home with Blarney's cat.
At the start of week six of the program, I'm now 5.5 kilograms lighter, a lot fitter and feeling great.
Every pair of jeans in my jeans drawer now fits me without having to lay in the bed and do them up with a coathanger. This is with the exception of the ones I have from when I'm 23 that I don't dare throw out - they're my super skinny jeans. They're allegedly size 16, but they are more like a size 12. They also have the waistband that goes up to my armpits and are in a fetching acid wash (that has never gone out of style in Adelaide).
But this is the real danger zone. In the past, I get to around this weight and everything comes to a grinding halt. Although I'm looking a lot better - but I have to go on. No amount of compliments will make me stop now. Besides, I'm loving the program and the exercise. Besides, I have an inherent curiousity to know what I look like slim. I have no photos of myself at anything under 80 kilos. I don't know what it is to be slender. I want to find out.
With a current BMI of 30 I'm nearly out of the obese zone - two more kilos and I can call myself chubby. My blood pressure is back in the realms of normal with only the stuff the naturopath gives me for support. My limbs are long and supple. I have visible cheekbones and collarbones once again. My tummy is shrinking to a point where I can imagine it flat - and that is something I haven't felt since I was about 23....
I have to keep going - employed or not.
I've also set myself a new carrot to keep going - If I can get my weight under 80 kilograms, or 20 kilograms loss by my birthday in August, I'm booking a trip to Sydney and going to do the Harbour Bridge climb.
It's been too long since I've been on a plane anyway.
I also want to be around 75 kgs when I renew my drivers licence and passport later in the year. My driver's licence shot has me with five chins and a scowl- I'm at my heaviest and I look miserable. My passport shot is better, but I'm ten years younger, though from memory, I'm weighting in about 5 kilos heavier than I am now.
If there is one thing I want to get out of this. I want to be able to go through life and not remember significant occasions by what weight I was. This is a sad fact of my life that I no longer want a part of. I just want to be in a healthy weight range and happy with that - and not have to remember the numbers and the misery attached to those numbers.
Other than these minor glitches, I should achieve my goal of an eight kilo loss over twelve weeks easily. If I make ten kilos over this twelve week period - I'll be thrilled. However, I'm still managing the expectations very carefully and trying to keep it real.
My next exercise goals - make it up the 1000 steps in under 25 minutes from base to the top, run a kilometre under 5 minutes by the end of these twelve weeks and go on my first hike.These should be acheiveable.
Bring on week six.
Pandxx
Showing posts with label job hunting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label job hunting. Show all posts
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Me, Commute?
One of the things that goes on top of my new job wish list is location. As I live in an inner city location, I'm looking for a role that is close by. A role that with any luck I can walk to. I'm even scoffing at roles that may be based down St Kilda Road. Other there is a creepy subset of people who work down St Kilda Road (reminder to self - blog about subset theory one day), it's two trams away. Tin Can, String and Whistle was in a great location - three kilometres door-to-door on foot - though the tram dropped me a three minute walk from both home and work.
So here I am, pondering the one job that has come up recently that has taken my interest. A role where the Project Manager likes the look of my CV. A solid job that is paying the right money, that will be a challenge in the good sense, fits my skills almost to the letter, in a new sector which would be great and round me out a bit. That is a decent three month contract - which will get me out of the doldrums which the current Melbourne market is facing and get me working again - all of this is good.
The hitch.
It's in Hobart.
Hobart, Tasmania.
Hobart, butt of many a joke, many a wild tale and many a Jim Beam Drinking, flannel shirt wearing bogan.
If I was in America, it would be like being stationed in Nebraska or Minnesota - if in England, well, think of being sent to Rotherham, Norwich or Barry, Wales for three months.
Okay, Hobart isn't the end of the world. But it's Hobart. Not Melbourne - and it's certainly not walking distance from home.
Talking to the pimp (read recruitment consultant) I said that I might be interested in this. I look at my life. It's three months. Twelve to thirteen weeks. It's not like I have a family here, though I do have friends, a flat, a car, a mailbox and many solid associations. As it's three months, I'm not expected to relocate - commuting would be the way to go. Fly down Monday morning, come back Friday - or negotiate a work from home one day, being virtually available one day a week. We are yet to see what the conditions are.
My poor head is spinning - not that I have the job yet, I can see the value in the opportunity. I can also see the roadblockers as well.
So here we go - the good, the bad and the ugly of taking a three-month job on the Apple Isle.
PROS
Right money
Good fit of my skills
Interesting work
New sector
Get to use my training skills
The airmiles will pick up
Hobart is a gorgeous city
My favorite cousin lives there (And she is a she and it is not like that - I was asked what to Hobartians do - I glibbly replied that they shag their cousins - oops - I was then asked if I had cousins down there - to which I replied that I did but she wasn't my type...)
I might get to see a bit more of the country on the weekends
It gets me working in a real job again
By the time I get back to Melbourne the job market might not be so finnicky.
I like the weather in Tasmania - it's cold - I like that.
Good tax breaks on all the travel and accommodations (depending on what way the company goes)
Jansz bubbles
King Island Beef
Hahn Bitter
It's not at all rat racey
Will get lost of sleep as people are in bed by 10 pm (Like New Zealand)
Computers work faster as they have the NBN Down there
I'd get out of reading the next book on the book group list that I'm not particularly enamoured with.
CONS
What to do with the gym - there are no Fitness Firsts in Hobart! Will have to find a gym - I'm told they have them down there.
Need to find a place to stay - though possibly this will be company sourced.
Lots of time at airports
Would have to let dream group go for a few months
Would have to let masons go for a few months too which will ire the new Grand Poobah no end
Will miss the odd birthday celebration
Somebody else will have to run book group for a few months
Will miss my friends, but I'll should be back in Melbourne on weekends
Will need to find a gym
What about the 12WBT - will need to source accomodation where I can cook.
Do they have protein shakes in Tassie?
No Pinochet - or will have to see Pinochet on Saturdays, if he will see me.
No car in Hobart - but will I need one?
I'm getting a house guest at the end of the week - where to place Maow Maow if I have to go before Blarney and Barney get back? (Mind you, there are a few friends I'm sure will have him - he's a joy)
And as Alice pointed out, finding work when I get back will be delayed until I get back, though at least the process can be started on the internet beforehand.
Looking at this short list, the cons appear to be greivances rather than real roadblocks.
It's going to be interesting if I get this role.
Certainly food for thought.
The last time I was there, I was at my cousin's son's wedding. It was held in community hall in Bagdad. Bagdad, Tasmania that is. A town which is near Jerusalem and Jericho, Tasmania. I didn't see one pair of tracky dacks or ugg boots at the reception.
It's not that bad, really. I have lots of friends who are from Tasmania. Barney's from Tasmania.
Funny, all my Tasmanian friends live in Melbourne.
Ah, one more con. If I get this role, will have to curb my penchant for telling glib Tasmanian jokes, referring to Melbourne as civilisation and making remarks about second heads.
Besides, I can talk. I'm South Australian. I'm just a Tasmanian who can swim....
So here I am, pondering the one job that has come up recently that has taken my interest. A role where the Project Manager likes the look of my CV. A solid job that is paying the right money, that will be a challenge in the good sense, fits my skills almost to the letter, in a new sector which would be great and round me out a bit. That is a decent three month contract - which will get me out of the doldrums which the current Melbourne market is facing and get me working again - all of this is good.
The hitch.
It's in Hobart.
Hobart, Tasmania.
Hobart, butt of many a joke, many a wild tale and many a Jim Beam Drinking, flannel shirt wearing bogan.
If I was in America, it would be like being stationed in Nebraska or Minnesota - if in England, well, think of being sent to Rotherham, Norwich or Barry, Wales for three months.
Okay, Hobart isn't the end of the world. But it's Hobart. Not Melbourne - and it's certainly not walking distance from home.
Talking to the pimp (read recruitment consultant) I said that I might be interested in this. I look at my life. It's three months. Twelve to thirteen weeks. It's not like I have a family here, though I do have friends, a flat, a car, a mailbox and many solid associations. As it's three months, I'm not expected to relocate - commuting would be the way to go. Fly down Monday morning, come back Friday - or negotiate a work from home one day, being virtually available one day a week. We are yet to see what the conditions are.
My poor head is spinning - not that I have the job yet, I can see the value in the opportunity. I can also see the roadblockers as well.
So here we go - the good, the bad and the ugly of taking a three-month job on the Apple Isle.
PROS
Right money
Good fit of my skills
Interesting work
New sector
Get to use my training skills
The airmiles will pick up
Hobart is a gorgeous city
My favorite cousin lives there (And she is a she and it is not like that - I was asked what to Hobartians do - I glibbly replied that they shag their cousins - oops - I was then asked if I had cousins down there - to which I replied that I did but she wasn't my type...)
I might get to see a bit more of the country on the weekends
It gets me working in a real job again
By the time I get back to Melbourne the job market might not be so finnicky.
I like the weather in Tasmania - it's cold - I like that.
Good tax breaks on all the travel and accommodations (depending on what way the company goes)
Jansz bubbles
King Island Beef
Hahn Bitter
It's not at all rat racey
Will get lost of sleep as people are in bed by 10 pm (Like New Zealand)
Computers work faster as they have the NBN Down there
I'd get out of reading the next book on the book group list that I'm not particularly enamoured with.
CONS
What to do with the gym - there are no Fitness Firsts in Hobart! Will have to find a gym - I'm told they have them down there.
Need to find a place to stay - though possibly this will be company sourced.
Lots of time at airports
Would have to let dream group go for a few months
Would have to let masons go for a few months too which will ire the new Grand Poobah no end
Will miss the odd birthday celebration
Somebody else will have to run book group for a few months
Will miss my friends, but I'll should be back in Melbourne on weekends
Will need to find a gym
What about the 12WBT - will need to source accomodation where I can cook.
Do they have protein shakes in Tassie?
No Pinochet - or will have to see Pinochet on Saturdays, if he will see me.
No car in Hobart - but will I need one?
I'm getting a house guest at the end of the week - where to place Maow Maow if I have to go before Blarney and Barney get back? (Mind you, there are a few friends I'm sure will have him - he's a joy)
And as Alice pointed out, finding work when I get back will be delayed until I get back, though at least the process can be started on the internet beforehand.
Looking at this short list, the cons appear to be greivances rather than real roadblocks.
It's going to be interesting if I get this role.
Certainly food for thought.
The last time I was there, I was at my cousin's son's wedding. It was held in community hall in Bagdad. Bagdad, Tasmania that is. A town which is near Jerusalem and Jericho, Tasmania. I didn't see one pair of tracky dacks or ugg boots at the reception.
It's not that bad, really. I have lots of friends who are from Tasmania. Barney's from Tasmania.
Funny, all my Tasmanian friends live in Melbourne.
Ah, one more con. If I get this role, will have to curb my penchant for telling glib Tasmanian jokes, referring to Melbourne as civilisation and making remarks about second heads.
Besides, I can talk. I'm South Australian. I'm just a Tasmanian who can swim....
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Things Left Unsaid
Things have been improving over the last few days.
Flora called, Pierro will stay with Natty in Canberra and she will go the the funeral alone, meaning I don't need to go up there. Pressure off there. It's been an incredibly emotional few days regardless. Monday was spent at home, in a mild version of shock. I wish, at times, I wasn't an emotional sponge. At least I've got ways of coping with this now - coping better than ever before. Exercise and a great support network make all the difference.
So now, with the Canberra trip abandoned I can get back to the joys of job hunting.
Yesterday's interview was at a top-flight consulting firm. For the first time in this job hunting period, I felt half excited. I felt that I'd actually like to work for this company. Not something I've been feeling for a while.
Strangely, it was one of the better interviews I've attended in years. I had no idea what to expect, but I fitted in well with the interviewer who seemed to get what I was about , just as I got where they were coming from.
It was a bit of a revelation of an interview. It also had me looking at the answers I was providing. What do information do you give? What do you leave out? What do you bury at the base of a sandpit encrusted with cat poo where you know nobody is going to go.
It was an interesting experience.
First up, I didn't look like me. Walk down the street and I was near unrecognisable. As I've lost 9 kgs this year all ready, my standby suit that I've used for interviews is now on the big side. Big enough to be swamping me and it is now sitting on the pile to be taken to St Vinnies. So the black jacket and skirt, in the wardrobe for when I got skinny again was donned. Hair in a bun, kitten heels, bespoke bracelet, red leather handbag, make up.
This is the result.
I look like Jessica Rabbit's scary accountant sister. Flora said I looked like and undertaker when she saw the photo. What Flora wasn't seeing was a really pretty cobalt blue top under the suit jacket that takes away a bit of the ferocity. Still, as most people are used to me in fisherman's pants, jeans, t-shirts or dresses, it's a bit out of the norm. As for make up - my normal eyeliner and mascara has been upped - but thank goodness for mineral foundation - it feels like you have nothing on your face.
As a rule, in interviews, you go back through you last few jobs. Rich, the guy interviewing me, wanted the full story. Oh, my.
For once, scraping around the truth wasn't going to cut it. I had to be as honest as I could.
He also started back at high school. He wanted the unadulterated story. Oh hell. Here goes nothing.
Rich: So tell me about high school.
Pand: Not what you expected. One of the worst high schools in South Australia at the time. Outer metropolitan hardnuts and country kids mixed in a school that didn't really cater for academics.
Rich: And you were dux of the school.
Pand: No, but in the top five.
Rich: With an Arts bent at high school?
Pand: No. I matriculated in English, Maths, Chemistry, French and Music. The marks were all were all in six marks of each other .
Well, this is the truth. Willunga High was not the paragon of educational virtues. There were four others who's grades were better than mine. Of a class of a a hundred only a handful went on to university. I'm also the only one in the state with a B plus in Math, Chemistry, French and Music.
Rich: What did your parents do?
Pand: Mum was a nurse, Dad ran the rubbish dump, among other things.
Truth as well. What else are you supposed to say? Can't mess with that history. Not so much educated at the University of Hard Knocks, but I've gone through life with the odd challenge. It's made me resiliant, hopeful and rather cunning. Hell, I come from a town called Myponga! That's a handicap in itself.
Rich: And what did you go into university wanting to do?
Pand: I wanted to be a French teacher.
Again, the truth. Thing is, as soon as I got to university, I hated the way they taught French. I wasn't that enamoured with university. I really had no idea what I wanted to do other than I didn't want to get married and have kids early.
Rich: And you went to London in 1991.
Pand: After university. I fell ill in my third year and repeated that final year part time. Glandular Fever wrecked me.
Rich: How did you support yourself at university?
Pand: I worked in a department store during that time, attending lectures at lunch time.
Mostly the truth. I did work in a department store, but in the sub-basement warehouse area, putting tickets on merchandise. The world's most soul-destroying job. You don't get much lower than roles in a sub-basement - the only way is up.
Rich: And you spent eight years in London. Did you have some kind of right to abode?
Pand: Yes. Grandparent entry.
Blatant lie. But who is going to check? He doesn't need to know about my furtive entry to the UK via Ireland or my six years as an alien. I paid my taxes and didn't get caught. We'll leave that alone.
Rich: And why did you return to Australia.
Pand: My grandmother was turning 100 and my sister was having a baby.
Again, truth. I left out the bit that my father had died and I felt I could come back. Employers don't need to know that bit.
We went through my more recent employment history.
Rich: And what do you do best in a role. What is your best fit job title?
Pand: Switzerland or Geek Liaison?
Rich: Explain.
Pand: Switzerland is the place you go to for refuge before getting things done. Don't ask how or why, but stuff gets done in Switzerland - a nice neutral place to go to for solace and regrouping. And Geek Liaison, because that's what I do. I can talk to geeks. I can also talk to engineers, the post room guys, the cleaners, the General Manager - you name it, I can talk to people and tend to get stuff happening. I'm from the country. I have the charm and gormlessness to be able to do that.
Well, this is true too. I'm about as gormless as they come.
Rich: And you want to be a writer. So you want to write the great Australian novel?
Pand: Nah, I'd rather be the next JK Rowling.
Rich: Why her?
Pand: I like her imagination.
For once in my life, whether it be to my detriment or not, I got to be mainly honest. When asked why I left a job in a software company I answered, "Abject boredom. I can't sit in front of a computer all day - does my head in." Rich got told about my desire to run a marathon next year and my need for work life balance.
But for the stuff that's sitting under the cat poo in the sandpit.
The tarot cards. Prospective employers can have a look at them when they get moved into my desk drawer three months into the contract.
The fact I'm into Kabbalah, Wicca and other spiritual stuff. None of their beeswax frankly.
My reflexology practice can stay hidden for the while too. I'm not sure employers would relish somebody who plays with feet on their books. It's just a bit too strange for corporate Australia.
And yeah, they don't need to know about the three Mills and Boon Manuscripts in my bottom drawer or the fact that I was once a member of Young Labor, many, many, many moons ago.
For the moment, I'm just the well dressed, articulate, intelligent woman looking for a new role, somewhere where there are a few challenges and a lot of variety.
Part of me thinks its the stuff that I leave out which is more interesting.
I'm being recommended for a second interview. We'll see how it goes.
Pandxx
Flora called, Pierro will stay with Natty in Canberra and she will go the the funeral alone, meaning I don't need to go up there. Pressure off there. It's been an incredibly emotional few days regardless. Monday was spent at home, in a mild version of shock. I wish, at times, I wasn't an emotional sponge. At least I've got ways of coping with this now - coping better than ever before. Exercise and a great support network make all the difference.
So now, with the Canberra trip abandoned I can get back to the joys of job hunting.
Yesterday's interview was at a top-flight consulting firm. For the first time in this job hunting period, I felt half excited. I felt that I'd actually like to work for this company. Not something I've been feeling for a while.
Strangely, it was one of the better interviews I've attended in years. I had no idea what to expect, but I fitted in well with the interviewer who seemed to get what I was about , just as I got where they were coming from.
It was a bit of a revelation of an interview. It also had me looking at the answers I was providing. What do information do you give? What do you leave out? What do you bury at the base of a sandpit encrusted with cat poo where you know nobody is going to go.
It was an interesting experience.
First up, I didn't look like me. Walk down the street and I was near unrecognisable. As I've lost 9 kgs this year all ready, my standby suit that I've used for interviews is now on the big side. Big enough to be swamping me and it is now sitting on the pile to be taken to St Vinnies. So the black jacket and skirt, in the wardrobe for when I got skinny again was donned. Hair in a bun, kitten heels, bespoke bracelet, red leather handbag, make up.
This is the result.
As a rule, in interviews, you go back through you last few jobs. Rich, the guy interviewing me, wanted the full story. Oh, my.
For once, scraping around the truth wasn't going to cut it. I had to be as honest as I could.
He also started back at high school. He wanted the unadulterated story. Oh hell. Here goes nothing.
Rich: So tell me about high school.
Pand: Not what you expected. One of the worst high schools in South Australia at the time. Outer metropolitan hardnuts and country kids mixed in a school that didn't really cater for academics.
Rich: And you were dux of the school.
Pand: No, but in the top five.
Rich: With an Arts bent at high school?
Pand: No. I matriculated in English, Maths, Chemistry, French and Music. The marks were all were all in six marks of each other .
Well, this is the truth. Willunga High was not the paragon of educational virtues. There were four others who's grades were better than mine. Of a class of a a hundred only a handful went on to university. I'm also the only one in the state with a B plus in Math, Chemistry, French and Music.
Rich: What did your parents do?
Pand: Mum was a nurse, Dad ran the rubbish dump, among other things.
Truth as well. What else are you supposed to say? Can't mess with that history. Not so much educated at the University of Hard Knocks, but I've gone through life with the odd challenge. It's made me resiliant, hopeful and rather cunning. Hell, I come from a town called Myponga! That's a handicap in itself.
Rich: And what did you go into university wanting to do?
Pand: I wanted to be a French teacher.
Again, the truth. Thing is, as soon as I got to university, I hated the way they taught French. I wasn't that enamoured with university. I really had no idea what I wanted to do other than I didn't want to get married and have kids early.
Rich: And you went to London in 1991.
Pand: After university. I fell ill in my third year and repeated that final year part time. Glandular Fever wrecked me.
Rich: How did you support yourself at university?
Pand: I worked in a department store during that time, attending lectures at lunch time.
Mostly the truth. I did work in a department store, but in the sub-basement warehouse area, putting tickets on merchandise. The world's most soul-destroying job. You don't get much lower than roles in a sub-basement - the only way is up.
Rich: And you spent eight years in London. Did you have some kind of right to abode?
Pand: Yes. Grandparent entry.
Blatant lie. But who is going to check? He doesn't need to know about my furtive entry to the UK via Ireland or my six years as an alien. I paid my taxes and didn't get caught. We'll leave that alone.
Rich: And why did you return to Australia.
Pand: My grandmother was turning 100 and my sister was having a baby.
Again, truth. I left out the bit that my father had died and I felt I could come back. Employers don't need to know that bit.
We went through my more recent employment history.
Rich: And what do you do best in a role. What is your best fit job title?
Pand: Switzerland or Geek Liaison?
Rich: Explain.
Pand: Switzerland is the place you go to for refuge before getting things done. Don't ask how or why, but stuff gets done in Switzerland - a nice neutral place to go to for solace and regrouping. And Geek Liaison, because that's what I do. I can talk to geeks. I can also talk to engineers, the post room guys, the cleaners, the General Manager - you name it, I can talk to people and tend to get stuff happening. I'm from the country. I have the charm and gormlessness to be able to do that.
Well, this is true too. I'm about as gormless as they come.
Rich: And you want to be a writer. So you want to write the great Australian novel?
Pand: Nah, I'd rather be the next JK Rowling.
Rich: Why her?
Pand: I like her imagination.
For once in my life, whether it be to my detriment or not, I got to be mainly honest. When asked why I left a job in a software company I answered, "Abject boredom. I can't sit in front of a computer all day - does my head in." Rich got told about my desire to run a marathon next year and my need for work life balance.
But for the stuff that's sitting under the cat poo in the sandpit.
The tarot cards. Prospective employers can have a look at them when they get moved into my desk drawer three months into the contract.
The fact I'm into Kabbalah, Wicca and other spiritual stuff. None of their beeswax frankly.
My reflexology practice can stay hidden for the while too. I'm not sure employers would relish somebody who plays with feet on their books. It's just a bit too strange for corporate Australia.
And yeah, they don't need to know about the three Mills and Boon Manuscripts in my bottom drawer or the fact that I was once a member of Young Labor, many, many, many moons ago.
For the moment, I'm just the well dressed, articulate, intelligent woman looking for a new role, somewhere where there are a few challenges and a lot of variety.
Part of me thinks its the stuff that I leave out which is more interesting.
I'm being recommended for a second interview. We'll see how it goes.
Pandxx
Friday, January 7, 2011
What Quiet Life?
I'm sitting in my "office" on the 17th floor of a tower block in Collins Street. I hear the hum of the efficent air conditioner and my own tapping on the keyboard. I have a great view of the IOOF (Institute of Odd Fellows - that always makes me laugh - why are they so odd that they need an institute?) and that new stadium that looks like a blown up witchety grub - I'm not sure what they play there, but lots of feral fans seem to pile in each week.
I'm supposed to be updating my CV. I came into my temporary office - part of the service that the Tin Can, String and Whistle career consultants offer, to do this.
I'm supposed to be doing a lot of things, but there are some things stopping me. Firstly, friends have asked to meet me for coffee - who am I to complain? I'm just back from a long macchiato and a chat. Secondly, the keyboard here at the this temporary office is crap.I think I'm better doing this on my own computer at home.
I could have stayed stay home and do this, but I have a house guest at the moment. Her name is Miffy and she belongs to Geerrt, my old boss. Other than disgracing herself in the car on the way over, more than likely through fear, she's been perfect. I was told that she slept in her own bed. Right..... this is what I've found the last two mornings. How can one small cat take up most of a double bed? She's the biggest cuddle slut I've every laid my hands on. She's lovely, but not conducive to getting things done.
I can always find better things to do than look for work anyway. I've already made two appointments for next week and I wasn't going to look for work this week. Besides, the contents of my handbag are on the desk for diseminating. How one small red, leather handbag can contain the following I will never know.
My wallet
My mobile phone with it's cover that looks like a block of chocolate
Two small bags of tampons
Three biros
A Berlei sports bra in beige, size 16DD (bought on Ebay, just collected - I don't normally cart around a spare bra)
50 mls of Stella McCartney Rose Absolute perfume
One Moleskin lined notebook
One rose coloured lip gloss
One dusky amber coloured plumping lip gloss (the plumping is very important)
One hairbrush
One lavender bag, just given to me by Merijn for looking after her cats over new year
One spectacles case with sunglasses within
One MAC lipstick, colour X-TREME (my favorite)
One small bulldog clip
One Moon Diary containing various bills, christmas cards and a ticket to Mary Poppins
50 mls of 30+ sunscreen, complete with crampon for easy access.
One pack of Eclipse mints of the peppermint variety
One pack of Eclipse mints of the cinnamon variety (why are they called mints when they don't even taste of mint?)
One ventolin inhaler
One ArtDeco compact if the HydraMineral variety, shade 65
One large yellow hairclip
One litter ninja badge (thanks Kath)
Three letters from the post box
Two flash drives of the 2 GB variety, pilfered from Tin Can, String and Whistle
One book - The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson - which has to be finished by tomorrow so I can pass it on to Blarney.
Nothing more will fit now. Funny that.
Then tonight, it's off to Georgie's birthday drinks before seeing Pinochet for a grunt session. Tomorrow morning I'm heading out to Blarney's to be with Chance and Vance for their first swimming lesson - that should be pretty cool.
Sunday, after Pump, I'm reading cards.
Monday I'm massaging in the morning, then meeting Gloria for a film.
Tuesday I have interviews and pump and Zumba before meeting Sam for a film.
Already this week I've given two massages, cleaned out my spare room, met people for coffee, done the 1000 steps in the Dandenongs, entertained the masses with my sensual Zumba moves, stuck to my calories, done an hour of reading, writing and exercising a day and lay on my bed reading with Miffy purring gently next to me.
And next week, in the evenings, I have films and dream group and theatre tickets and dinners and....
I think I'm busier now that I'm between jobs. Here I was thinking that this between jobs lark was going to be quiet.
I had better shut down now and go off to Georgie's drinks. I'm certainly not looking forward to the session with Pinochet. It's 34 degrees outside and he's mean in the heat.
But if I want today's star, that's what I'm going to have to do.
Pand
I'm supposed to be updating my CV. I came into my temporary office - part of the service that the Tin Can, String and Whistle career consultants offer, to do this.
I'm supposed to be doing a lot of things, but there are some things stopping me. Firstly, friends have asked to meet me for coffee - who am I to complain? I'm just back from a long macchiato and a chat. Secondly, the keyboard here at the this temporary office is crap.I think I'm better doing this on my own computer at home.
I could have stayed stay home and do this, but I have a house guest at the moment. Her name is Miffy and she belongs to Geerrt, my old boss. Other than disgracing herself in the car on the way over, more than likely through fear, she's been perfect. I was told that she slept in her own bed. Right..... this is what I've found the last two mornings. How can one small cat take up most of a double bed? She's the biggest cuddle slut I've every laid my hands on. She's lovely, but not conducive to getting things done.
I can always find better things to do than look for work anyway. I've already made two appointments for next week and I wasn't going to look for work this week. Besides, the contents of my handbag are on the desk for diseminating. How one small red, leather handbag can contain the following I will never know.
My wallet
My mobile phone with it's cover that looks like a block of chocolate
Two small bags of tampons
Three biros
A Berlei sports bra in beige, size 16DD (bought on Ebay, just collected - I don't normally cart around a spare bra)
50 mls of Stella McCartney Rose Absolute perfume
One Moleskin lined notebook
One rose coloured lip gloss
One dusky amber coloured plumping lip gloss (the plumping is very important)
One hairbrush
One lavender bag, just given to me by Merijn for looking after her cats over new year
One spectacles case with sunglasses within
One MAC lipstick, colour X-TREME (my favorite)
One small bulldog clip
One Moon Diary containing various bills, christmas cards and a ticket to Mary Poppins
50 mls of 30+ sunscreen, complete with crampon for easy access.
One pack of Eclipse mints of the peppermint variety
One pack of Eclipse mints of the cinnamon variety (why are they called mints when they don't even taste of mint?)
One ventolin inhaler
One ArtDeco compact if the HydraMineral variety, shade 65
One large yellow hairclip
One litter ninja badge (thanks Kath)
Three letters from the post box
Two flash drives of the 2 GB variety, pilfered from Tin Can, String and Whistle
One book - The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson - which has to be finished by tomorrow so I can pass it on to Blarney.
Nothing more will fit now. Funny that.
Then tonight, it's off to Georgie's birthday drinks before seeing Pinochet for a grunt session. Tomorrow morning I'm heading out to Blarney's to be with Chance and Vance for their first swimming lesson - that should be pretty cool.
Sunday, after Pump, I'm reading cards.
Monday I'm massaging in the morning, then meeting Gloria for a film.
Tuesday I have interviews and pump and Zumba before meeting Sam for a film.
Already this week I've given two massages, cleaned out my spare room, met people for coffee, done the 1000 steps in the Dandenongs, entertained the masses with my sensual Zumba moves, stuck to my calories, done an hour of reading, writing and exercising a day and lay on my bed reading with Miffy purring gently next to me.
And next week, in the evenings, I have films and dream group and theatre tickets and dinners and....
I think I'm busier now that I'm between jobs. Here I was thinking that this between jobs lark was going to be quiet.
I had better shut down now and go off to Georgie's drinks. I'm certainly not looking forward to the session with Pinochet. It's 34 degrees outside and he's mean in the heat.
But if I want today's star, that's what I'm going to have to do.
Pand
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