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November 16, 2004

A Day in the life of.. for once

After reading everyone's blogs I felt guilty that I don't actually write what my day has been like.... so here goes for today.....

“Look, just go and stand over there and leave us alone” came the ever increasingly agitated voice. I couldn’t see what was happening but I had a good idea what was going on. “No don’t do it” the female voice cried. “Common then, I dare you”, the thick boyish London accent taunted. Before I had time to look up from my phone the two characters were wrestling. Slap. The sound of fist to face caused all of the heads to rotate in unison.

Today was one of those undecided days. It didn’t know whether to feel happy that I was out in London doing something different from the norm or nervous at the thought of the four o’clock interview. It was one of those jobs that sounded good over the phone, yet seemed to fall in favour the more thought I gave it. It was on the wrong side of London. The interviewer sounded important, purely by the sound of his name. More importantly, the abstract job title left me feeling completely unsure about what job I was actually applying for. I would then argue the positive. It was for a company that that was a dream for me. It’s not often that a person who likes to bet on sports gets the chance to work for a sports betting company after all. It was so far removed from my previous five years of insurance boredom that it did indeed seem perfect. I could even get a tube on the Underground line from Upminster to Hammersmith without having to change. Perfect, apart from the twenty three stops in between and an hour and a half of bumpy travel. But the biggest selling factor was that it was a job, and a job was better than no job.

“Yes can you write down the time on your visitor’s pass, I think you will find it is ten past four”. Surely the security guard had got it wrong. I had timed it perfectly. I had left the house with an hour to spare. In an effort to counter my notoriously bad time keeping, I had left ridiculously early but had somehow managed to be ten minutes late for my interview. Of course having a phone that said it was later than it was really didn’t help. I had also turned the ten minute walk from the station to the office into an hour long one, looking for roads that did not exist and finding that one of the roads was in the crease of my new purchased A to Z thus rendering it unreadable.

“So can you give me some examples of some projects you have managed in the past and describe any problems you encountered? Demonstrate to me how you have overcome these issues”. It had been nine months since I last worked and the automatic blag mode had been left somewhere between Fiji and New Zealand. Then it came back. I had verbal diarrhoea. The problem was I was having trouble convincing myself let alone a person who was in charge of employing me. It was at that point I realised just why people don’t like interviews. There was nowhere to hide.

“It was nice meeting you” was the last words. I thought we got on well but then again he probably thought I was bumbling bumble bee. I walked into the darkness, slightly relived, slightly anxious and slightly positive. The ten minute walk gave me time to analyse the good and the bad points. Could I picture myself in Swan pub on the corner at lunchtime? Did I like the office atmosphere? Would the job be asking too much of me? Have I got chance? But far more importantly why was he wearing a black sweater with a hole in the arm? And where did he get that scar from?

The doors opened at Hammersmith station. I had forgotten what rush hour was actually like. I managed to squeeze myself on. My right hand clasped the rail for balance. My left hand, well I don’t know where that was, sandwiched between an ageing, balding man and a bag slung over an anonymous shoulder. I had forgotten the commuter look. The look of nothing. Staring into space. Anything to avoid eye contact with a fellow commuter. We all have out personal invasion zones, once other people get within five two meters we tend to act differently. We make excuses to stare at anything, phones, watches, newspapers that you have already read, books that you have already finished. Anything but eye contact.

In the corner of my eye I could see a situation developing. A boy of sixteen was trying to interact with a fellow stranger. In the silence of the train this made an uneasy atmosphere. “Hey man, do you wanna go to Romford to get some ladies” bellowed the cockney voice. Drugs or alcohol, probably drugs. His inhibitions were gone. The victim looked into space, shaking his head occasionally. Knowing that I could be his next victim I looked away. He was becoming more boisterous. He drifted over to a couple sitting down. “Hey why is he sleeping, is he tired?” he probed as he prodded the next victim. “Get up man, get up man” he persisted. This was going to end in tears. The now awake man was considerably bigger in stature than the youthful wafer thin troublemaker. As his girlfriend glared he awoke. All I wanted was a peaceful journey home. My stop was next. But it seemed like an eternity. The joys of commuting. The only good thing was I would not be doing this tomorrow like everyone else. For now that is.




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