Laugh? Nearly cried.

Thursday was a day in which the more I heard the less I understood.

"Will you be sick?" I asked the cat. She sat there impassively, the breakfast of cows hooves and sheep guts labelled "Whiskas" gurgling inside her.

"You'd better not be sick! I'm fed up changing the covers on that bed!"

The cat looked disdainfully at me a moment through half lidded eyes. Then she noticed a sunbeam and danced across the bed and over the chest of drawers, her tail disappearing behind the net curtain.

There was a ding dong at the doorbell and:


"Ve haf come to fit doors..."

Two serious Eastern European gentlemen stood on the step, one proffering a bundle of invoices that indeed included me as a customer expecting a delivery and installation of internal doors on this very date. They looked at me silently, the sides of their mouths turned down. I inspected the papers with the methological precision of a border guard.

"Do you have any vegetables, fruits or livestock?" I asked.

They shook their heads.

"No contraband or anything to declare?"

"Ve haf nothing to declare."

"You'd better come in then."

They set to with a will, unloading a van full of shiny new timber and absolutely beautiful three-quarter glazed doors. I'd picked them from a catalogue, sight unseen. They were far better than I expected.


I watched as the doorframes were pulled out. Pulled out very carefully, I saw. And any cables or wires knocking around were saved to be hidden again in the new doorframes like expertly installed listening devices.

Each of the men had a tiny pencil, little more than a lead stub that emerged from some orifice from time to time and made arcane runes on the bare wood. When one made a mark, he disappeared outdoors and a sawing or plaing machine would start briefly, shriek through some unnameable torture, then whizz to a halt. The other would then take a measurement, cluck to himself, then disappear into the garden, passed on the way by the first, carrying the newly cut timber and slotting it magically into place. I was rapt.

I sat there, slowly turning to grey under a film of plaster dust as the men removed timbers and replaced timbers and slid their hands over the smooth grain and checked and double-checked that everything was running well. At 12.00 noon precisely, they withdrew two Tupperware containers of pasta and stew from the van's glove compartment, slid them into our microwave and made lunch.

"Kettle?" I asked.

"Tea. Please."

I filled some mugs and looked about. They had both retreated to the van and were smoking cigarettes. The took the tray from me in the garden. Ten minutes later, the saws and planes were going again.

There was another ding-dong. I struggled out of the mound of volcanic ash that seemed to cover everything and found my African neighbour on the doorstep. He looked a little agitated and my ear, tuned to Eastern Europe all day, couldn't quite make out what he was saying. It sounded like:

"Balumba umba umba....this wurk, 'ere."

"Eh?"

I tuned my earlobe a little and made out:

"...und I wawshed my car..."

I looked at his car. Nice car. Kept very well, usually. Wonder where all the dust came from that's covering it...?

"Aw, crap..." I thought. I should have considered earlier asking him to move the car out onto the road and upwind of the work. The two chippies were working furiously on a door's edge and a piece of architrave, respectively, in the drive the one with the better English looking daggers from time to time.

I offered to pay for a car wash. My neighbour looked at me as if I called him a son of a crocodile.

"Or," I said, "I could clean it myself...? I'll do that. When the men are finished working, I'll get a bucket and cloth and give it a wash, okay?"

He drew himself up.

"We ah gud neighbaws. We ah close!" he said, cocking his nose. "We do not fawl owt abawt such things. If you say sorry, I will be happy."

I said I was indeed sorry and that I was upset that he was upset. I should have been more thoughtful and spoken with him earlier. I would still arrange to clean the car if he wished...

He made a dismissive chopping motion with his hand.

"It is fo'gawtten."

And he was gone.

"Dust? Dust? Pah!" the lead carpenter said back inside the house. "I say iz impossible not find dust anywhere! He could park car anywhere and get dust! He crazy man. Crazy man!"

"No," I said. "He was right. We could have done more to save his car from getting so dusty."

I was a little deflated with it all. The doors were still lovely, but after the unexpected complaint a bit of the good had been taken from them. I now felt the coldness of the unheated house with the door permanently open as the chippies came and went. I saw the wood chippings in the carpet and the white dust on the stacked furniture. There seemed no end to the chaos.

Next door, my neighbour took his car out. About an hour later it was back in the driveway with a clean look about it. Back in the driveway. In the same place as before. With my two chippies working away with their saws and drills and planers right beside it...

"Ah, for feck's sake!"

I walked up his driveway and rang the bell.

"Er, you know these men will be working for maybe an hour... or more... yet?"

"I thawt they were nearly finished."

"Could you oblige me... please.... and move the car out onto the road...? Pretty please?"

When he moved the car, I noticed half his driveway was covered in wood chips. I groaned. No wonder he was making a fuss! I grabbed a brush and started sweeping.

There was a mountain of sawdust and chippings in my own drive. I laboured away for half an hour until everything was bagged and tied and tidy.

It was eight o'clock before the men were satisfied that everything that could be done had been done. It was a fabulous job and I was overwhelmed with the quality of the work and of the doors.

"Everytink is gut?"

"Brilliant!"

"If you get doors for upstairs, you call me. I get cheaper."

"Nice one," I said, taking down his telephone number, signing his docket, handing them a tip which went into the same place as the butty pencils, which is to say somewhere unknown.

I looked at the chaos of the house and sighed. It would take a day off work to put everything to right again.

After a while, I thought of the neighbour's car out on the road. Mybe someone would run into it. Or scrape it. Or steal it.

"I bet I'll be blamed if it does!"

I nipped upstairs to the bedroom, tugged back the net curtain and leaned on the windowsill to look out to see if the car was okay. My hand squelched in a pool of cat vomit...

"Bad cat!" I said.

The cat opened one eye briefly, brupped pleasantly and went back to sleep.

Million to One Chances

"Million to one chances happen nine times out of ten." So says Terry Pratchett in, (I think), his Discworld novel, "Guards! Guards!". And so indeed do many bloggers and fans this week in all corners of the blogosphere.

Yes, I know there are no corners on a sphere.

Unless those spheres are Irish politicians' heads. I have often heard these champions of the one-liner using the phrase:

"We are ruling nothing out. And we are ruling nothing in either."

Thus they turn a one-liner to a qualified metaphor. In any event, I shouldn't like to have been the one to read their school copybooks.

The reason for our distress this week is that Terry has announced he has been diagnosed with an early-onset form of Alzheimers disease. But he has asked us to remember he is still alive.

One of his characters, Granny Weatherwax, used her witch's ability to transfer her mind into animals and go nosing about the woods. While she did this, she left her body behind in her little cottage, her cold fingers holding a hand-written sign which said:

"I ATEN'T DEAD"

If anyone wants to find me an XXXXXXXXXL tee shirt with that printed on it, I should accept it gratefully as a Christmas present and as a continuing reminder of what this breathing-in breathing-out thing is for.

I'm from Barcelona

Job hunting & the wisdom of friends on the Internet

I rediscovered a forum I used to operate a few years ago. Amazing to look back at the gripes of yesteryear. Under "I'm beginning to think I'm unemployable" I found:

Author:Willie
Date Posted: 05:57:58 07/03/03 Thu
"I'm beginning to think I'm unemployable"
You know I was talking to someone yesterday and I was saying that where once I had a little business of my own (albeit a poorly-paying one) and looked after it, now I spend most of my entire day trawling through job adverts and apparently making no headway whatsoever.

"I can't make any promises" was the response of the latest job recruitment person I spoke to. God, I hate agencies. I apply for a job thru one, and all it is is an excuse for them to run you through a typing test, put some of your details in a database, and tell you "that particular" job is now filled, but they'll get back to you. Fuck.

Me: "I'm looking for part-time work."
She: "Now wouldn't you want full-time work?"
Me: "Yes... But I'd like to start with part time..."
She: "Now, those people are ONLY looking for part-time employees."
Me: "Yeeeeesss... And that suits me fine..."
She: "Wouldn't you like full-time work?"

Bugger. 55 WPM typing speed and 100% accuracy in a test straight off the rain-sodden streets...

She: "Out of ten, how would you rate your computer skills?"
Fuck's sake! What was the test, the long list of skills I carefully prepared in my CV and the letter of application for...?
Me: "Seven and a half...?"
She: "Okay. I'll ask those people if they're interested. No promises though."
Should have saved the busfare into town.

Author: Angh
Date Posted: 09:15:00 07/03/03 Thu
In reply to: Willie 's message, on 05:57:58 07/03/03 Thu

The thing is...SHE has a job; her job is to ask you the dumb questions as it states in her job description. Have you thought of trying to put together your OWN agency?

Here the deal is to make the CV as concise as possible, since there are so many people out of work, and nobody really reads the resumes unless they are truly striking.

I have a great looking CV, but it too often gets stuffed in a drawer because people don't take the time to read it. I usually tell people I only want part-time because I'm working on a novel. LOL Sounds better than "I'm too damn old to hack full time".

I saw a state job here yesterday that I'm well qualified to handle, but damn I just don't want to work for the government anymore.You have a good personality, a clever wit, and the skills...it'll happen one of these times.

Meanwhile write an article about the trials and tribulations. It makes good reading...

Author: Frank
Date Posted: 15:16:00 07/07/03 Mon
In reply to: Willie 's message, on 05:57:58 07/03/03 Thu

Willie Sorry your going though the wringer in fonding a job.

I does stink and ya find the dumest hopes to jump though to get a job now a days. Well I was once told this that it take 100 tries to land a job. So you are that much closer to getting one. True it did not help when I was looking like mad to find one.

Just keep trying Willie one will open up for you. If not well one can fallow the rest of the Irish wake over the pond and muddle around in the states or england for a bit.

Take care Frank

Author: Willie
Date Posted: 00:58:27 07/08/03 Tue
In reply to: Frank 's message, on 15:16:00 07/07/03 Mon

Yesterday on Nixers.com... (advert is now gone, so I'm paraphrasing here...):

"Helpful individual with PC skills and pleasant telephone manner to work 11am to 3pm 5 days a week."

The email I get from the agency reads:

"Dear Willie,

Thank you for your interest in the above position.

Unfortunately, on this occassion you have not been short listed for interview I will however keep your CV on file and keep you advised of future opportunities.

Regards..."

I resisted the urge to tell him how to use a spelling checker.

Anyhow...

Fuck it.

Author: Angh
Date Posted: 07:37:48 07/08/03 Tue
In reply to: Willie 's message, on 00:58:27 07/08/03 Tue

Ain't tha' th' trut...

How many times have I seen "withdrawl" instead of withdrawal on a patient chart. When I mentioned it to my co-worker, the keyboard wizard transcriptionist, she in her 45-year-old wisdom replied...

"Well, HOW do you spell it?"

How many boy children are listed in the birth records as Jermey, rather than the intended, Jeremy?

Do it right has been replaced by Get it DONE.

If one thinks about it...the consequences of that have become more tragic than funny.

Author:Frank
Date Posted: 10:09:15 07/08/03 Tue
In reply to: Angh 's message, on 07:37:48 07/08/03 Tue
Well I for one can not complain about other spelling. I have my own typos to remind me on how well I do. (LOL)

Willie have you thought of looking work is the fast food joint just to get some form of a pay check. (true it suck as work goes) try to keep you spirts up. I know your ship will come in, it's just when is the question.

Take care buddy
Frank

Author:Willie
Date Posted: 02:58:40 07/09/03 Wed
In reply to: Frank 's message, on 10:09:15 07/08/03 Tue
I consider you a friend, Frank, so I'll not give my thoughts on your suggestion of working in a fast food joint...

I've decided to ease off on looking for work as it's a complete waste of my time. I have to figure out what I can do that will bring in some money and that I'm INTERESTED in doing any more.

If something comes up in the meantime, so be it.

Author:Frank
Date Posted: 12:02:00 07/09/03 Wed
In reply to: Willie 's message, on 02:58:40 07/09/03 Wed
True. Fast food work does stink and any other foul name that can be used to describe it. Well you said writting AD&D Moduals payes and you like doing them. I know I do not have the time to write or understand the new game any more.

Have you thought of being a roving reporter and sell you stories to the local rag? (don't know if this is still done)

One could sell your self as a tourest guide (please do not choke the #### out of the american tourest they tip well)

Knowing you Willie you will think up something and I hope it covers all of you monie needs.


Author:Fitz
Date Posted: 16:37:53 08/05/03 Tue
In reply to: Frank 's message, on 12:02:00 07/09/03 Wed
Willie...it's me..... the missing link...

If I recommended a book that I've read recently would you ask to borrow it or tell me where to shove it ? I've been looking around lately because I'm stuck in a rut in my job and seeing as I spend more time there than I do at home with the kids it had better be stimulating.... so i've been reading a bit about this whole career-life-job hunt thing.

Frankly you were smarter some 20 years ago than all of the gobshites I'm working with now. There's nothing doing in my neck of the woods at the moment but if you want to call/mail and talk about some ideas then give me a shout. You are able to paint vivid pictures with words - that's a gift and anyone who says differently should consider a career in teaching.... There are businesses out there that need smart people like you. The problem is finding them.... because they're not going to find you that's for sure (if they could find you they'd be smarter than they are now and probably wouldn't need to hire you.... but let's not go down that road.....).

For what it's worth... here's my advice....it's worth what you're paying for it......

Agencies are a waste of energy and time. Sending CVs has limited success. You know what you're good and and what you want to do. I suggest you follow the 'networking' path... tell anyone and everyone what you do and that you're available to do it for anyone who will pay you. If you know of (or can find) a business that might possibly need your skills then try to find out if you know someone (or someone who knows someone) who works there. Once you get the basic link to a real human being who has the authority to either hire someone or contract someone then you talk to them..... not the organ grinders monkey.

Hmmm. Now that I've read some of that back it looks like pure shite. But give me a shout and I'll fill you in on some of the stuff I've learned - I've been interviewing people for a few years and it never ceases to amaze me that I've had to go looking for smart people to hire... they never seemed to come to me... A lot of folks who mentioned to me that they did such-and-such and were available actually got something because I remembered them.... I've read dozens, nay hundreds, of CVs. Can't remember a single one of the bastards. not one. But I do remember this fella Larry Bass who cornered me at a party and told me about his ideas for making videos and stuff. He quietly bought the 'Popstars' franchise for a pittance and produced the series... bastard.... I should have nicked his ideas ;-)

Author: Willie
Date Posted: 01:57:45 08/06/03 Wed
In reply to: Fitz 's message, on 16:37:53 08/05/03 Tue
Hi Fitz,

Well I have gradually come around to the idea that sending CVs is a load of bollocks. I'm at the age when you and I were taking our first employment steps in the 80s when it was considered unlikely someone would be employable -- not far off 40 and toiling around in a shrinking job market.

What's interesting to me is that there has always been a particular pigeonhole into which particular jobs and skills "fit".

The classic one is a tale I told on here some time ago:I phoned a number in search of an advertised Receptionist's job and was finally told "But we're looking for a girl." I wasn't asked one thing about any skills whatsoever.

So I'm taking what I know from this useless quest for gainful employment and trying to do something with it. Many of the email addresses one sends the invisible C.V. to have their own server but have no accompanying Website. The best they have is one of those "This site is reserved for a customer" pages. If I can't get the fuckers to let me answer their phones, maybe I can get them to allow me to make a Website. We'll see.

What bugs me most is that I was doing all this job-hunting shite 20 years ago and I got no-where then. I don't really expect to now either.

Author: Angh
Date Posted: 13:06:49 08/06/03 Wed
In reply to: Willie 's message, on 01:57:45 08/06/03 Wed
Sitting in the local yesterday talking to a local fella, Harley rider, electronics tech, egg seller. He is also active in the Vietnam Vets MC Club so we bought a couple t-shirts and ordered a dozen eggs with the promise to bring egg cartons we've been saving for him.

Another fella...logger type bellied up to the bar and before I left, the leathered up biker/egg man (Wayne) had a job doing something for the logging outfit, I disremember what, but it ain't loggin'.

All he said to the fella was,"If you hear of anything going on, I'm looking for work and I'm a working mother fucker."

Wayne LOOKS like yer typical scooter trash, but somehow he presents as a standup pillar of integrity.

Now...I do CVs for a little money, and have a whole list of people who GOT jobs on the strength of the persona I created for them...but CVs as a be all end all doesn't work anymore, because the HR person isn't reading them. There's just too many of them coming through the door.

I've got a great CV, but am packing too many years, and won't do a lot of stuff for the money they offer these days.

Fitz...I enjoyed reading your post...some real sensible shite there.

Author: Frank
Date Posted: 16:15:57 08/06/03 Wed
In reply to: Angh 's message, on 13:06:49 08/06/03 Wed
True the CV is not worth crap.My wife sent out hers to god knows how many and no takes.

She also tried the mail offers to get her own companie going and we sent out 5000 flyers and not one taker.

I like and think their good and how I landed my job by going to job fair. (might be called something diffrent in your area Willie) One goes and talks to a real person who can hire and knows what their looking for. Some time they just take names and to get back to you but don't thats crap and a waist of my time. I now ask then if they are actively hiring or just taking names. If they dodge the question I walk saying I am look for work and not playing games. This is how I got my job I am in now for 13 years.

I truely think it is just luck and how you present your self will lead to one getting a job. Again do not give up hope and Fits is right on the mark that you are one hell of a writer. Have you tried the local rags or did some volentering work for the local paper? It is a way to get ones foot in the door. You did write for the tourest board rags maybe they need a new writer with your flair for words to revive their old tourest pamplets.

Chat with you later.

Author: Willie
Date Posted: 02:24:18 08/07/03 Thu
In reply to: Frank 's message, on 16:15:57 08/06/03 Wed
This morning I applied for a job with a Rosary Beads manufacturer. I applied to them last June without any response for what I think is the same position on offer.

My next application was to a Press-Cuttings company who are offering a princely sum to mount, fax and email cuttings to clients. I would have about €200 per week after tax if hired.

I'm not practicing my breath-holding skills on either. As for writing, it's all well and good having a skill in something, but being skilled in something you no longer want to do makes it kind of irrelevant, no?

Author:Frank
Date Posted: 09:57:30 08/07/03 Thu
In reply to: Willie 's message, on 02:24:18 08/07/03 Thu
Well then maybe learn how to be a bartender. It seam to me they are alway are in demand. (S)Good luck with these two slots and I hope one come though for ya.

Author: Angh
Date Posted: 12:20:34 08/08/03 Fri
In reply to: Willie 's message, on 02:24:18 08/07/03 Thu
I had a job packing garden hose once. It went well until they decided I'd make a garden hose winder, on the machine that stood ominously in front of the extruder where the garden hose was spit out for processing. The winder was foot pedal operated, and if one forgot to let off the pedal upon completion of the wind, one would be launched over the top of the machine. I didn't get bucked off the machine, but it DID bang my wrist hard enough to make my hand swell like a Michelin Man. I was sent home and never went back.

Now, counting Rosary beads might be something I could do.

I had a temp gig once, counting syringe needles...100 to a packet. That was easy enough, and I was fast enough counting that I could do it twice to autocheck myself without them noticing. ROFL.

Writing to spec would be an awful thing, like an endless Comp 104 class. I'd rather the inspiration hit you because you care deeply about something enough to put it out there.

So...will stop nagging about your writing. *S*


Author: Willie
Date Posted: 06:27:27 10/16/03 Thu
Was out and about today at the Royal Dublin Society (RDS) which is, as we all probably know, a snobbish reservation on the Southside of Dublin where the horsey set usually congregate to rub fetlocks.

A certain organisation had sent for me and 800 others to sit a "written examination", the purpose of which is to thin out applicants for an Administrative job.

First-off, most of us arrived at 8.40 for the 9.30 "registration", which consisted of us finding our names and numbers on a list, the clerk checking that we were identical to our photos, and sitting down on a chair at a desk these latter items made for a dwarf. An anorexic one at that.

I guess the 9.30 start probably meant a 10.00 examination, and so it proved to be.

A tall, thin, greying countryman made his way to the microphone and said:

"Nolph, welfome ebbly n. Nay zam doo ar. Irr s NUMERICAL REASONING..."

We nodded our comprehension at that part.

"Ec e ape. Ple il ape ou."

He looked around him. There must have been a few puzzled faces down the back, because, to be sure (I suppose), he said:

"N est on?"

There were none.

Does anyone know why a painter would want to know why he's five-elevenths of his way through the job after three hours and thirty-five minutes?

Author: Willie
Date Posted: 01:05:12 10/10/03 Fri
We think it's been about a year since I started actively searching for work. Yesterday I received the three-month contract from **** and their "Pre-Employment Pack", which amount to a number of manuals and a great number of forms to submit to various departments. The gist of all this is that I've been offered work as a "Clerical Officer (Word Processing)" beginning at 9.30 a.m. on Monday 20th October.

Regular income... The mind boggles...


Author: Angh
Date Posted: 01:46:01 10/10/03 Fri
In reply to: Willie 's message, on 01:05:12 10/10/03 Fri
Tickled to death for you. *S*

How civilized to give you a chance to exhale, make arrangements if needed, and celebrate a bit before you have to punch in the first day.

I really hope you'll enjoy the job my friend. With your wit I'm sure we'll get lots of interesting tidbits about the experience of hiding from the enemy in plain sight.

At best there's no fear the bureaucrappy sand will wear away at your edges. At worst...if you hate it, take comfort that companies really prefer that you already HAVE a job when you come looking for one. Odd, but it's true.

Congratulations...eat your veg...and never let 'em see you sweat.

Angh