no escape
I didn't get that job. In case you were wondering. Those techniques borrowed from American Idol auditions ('I need this!') let me down, as did my snappy response to the query about how I would ingratiate myself with my new work colleagues ('Slag off the boss.')
Still, I was left in suspense for quite some time. Whenever I rang them, the people I needed to talk to were busy, or on leave. I'd begun to wonder if it wasn't some kind of bizarre initiative test. Was I meant to command the receptionist to let me speak to someone? Was I meant to burst in there with a shotgun and take them all hostage in order to demonstrate how 'proactive' I am?
As it turns out, no. The letter arrived eventually to tell me that I had been rejected, although I was assured that all the candidates were of a very high standard. All except me, did they mean? Surely not. At least they didn't say, as they might very well have, that all the candidates were of a very low standard, 'and you, therefore, particularly shit.' That would have been a pisser.
So, for the moment I remain out the back, listening to Phoenix FM. And working, of course. I wouldn't want anyone who might happen to be reading this to imagine that I wasn't working. Perish the thought! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Phoenix FM. Some of their ads are as familiar as old friends. Really irritating ones. 'When was the last time you heard a man say: Come on everybody, let's go shopping?' About ten minutes ago, when you last played this ad. Apparently, though, the Eastgate Centre in Basildon is so amazing that even men love it. Especially the food court: 'There's always something happening there!' Shootings, stabbings...
Then there's the invitation to 'shop 'til you drop' in Brentwood's own Baytree Centre. The only people liable to do that must already be in the final stages of exhaustion before the shopping starts. And the hair salon that 'specialises in fun'. I think I'd prefer a hair salon that specialised in hair. I mean, what do they do, squirt styling mousse at you as you walk in the door?
Still, I was left in suspense for quite some time. Whenever I rang them, the people I needed to talk to were busy, or on leave. I'd begun to wonder if it wasn't some kind of bizarre initiative test. Was I meant to command the receptionist to let me speak to someone? Was I meant to burst in there with a shotgun and take them all hostage in order to demonstrate how 'proactive' I am?
As it turns out, no. The letter arrived eventually to tell me that I had been rejected, although I was assured that all the candidates were of a very high standard. All except me, did they mean? Surely not. At least they didn't say, as they might very well have, that all the candidates were of a very low standard, 'and you, therefore, particularly shit.' That would have been a pisser.
So, for the moment I remain out the back, listening to Phoenix FM. And working, of course. I wouldn't want anyone who might happen to be reading this to imagine that I wasn't working. Perish the thought! Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Phoenix FM. Some of their ads are as familiar as old friends. Really irritating ones. 'When was the last time you heard a man say: Come on everybody, let's go shopping?' About ten minutes ago, when you last played this ad. Apparently, though, the Eastgate Centre in Basildon is so amazing that even men love it. Especially the food court: 'There's always something happening there!' Shootings, stabbings...
Then there's the invitation to 'shop 'til you drop' in Brentwood's own Baytree Centre. The only people liable to do that must already be in the final stages of exhaustion before the shopping starts. And the hair salon that 'specialises in fun'. I think I'd prefer a hair salon that specialised in hair. I mean, what do they do, squirt styling mousse at you as you walk in the door?
posted by martin at 1:45 PM
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