Finally I am close to the peak of my transformation from a dole scum into a 'respectable' citizen. Though I don't know if I specified this before. My benefit comes from my own contributions, not from your taxes. Let's be frank, my problem, my burden. Why should I sponge off your taxes when so many other people in the country can do it for me.
The first interview was a disaster from the beginning. In the traditional sense of recruitment agencies... they don't give a fuck about you, they just want a quick buck. Such interview was for a job that I wasn't sure of, but would pay the bills. The caring agency didn't bother to send me the address or interview details until two hours prior of me needing to get on a train. There is where it all started going wrong.
Facing two hours to groom myself from a tramp into a suit wearing human was something that would have made 'Queer eye for the straight guy' proud. The main thing was to cut my hair as it had reached that 'Action man' fuzziness look. Then it was required for me to shave. For those who know me and have seen me since I came back from my trip... I was sporting a patchy Che Guevara beard. Just as cheap and shit, but made me feel as if I could somehow change the world. Considering that I had only been trimming it for the last four months, a razor would have not been welcome by my delicate skin. So I trimmed and plucked at it with the electric razor, not before messing about with my un-crowded facial hair.
Like most of you would have done, I decided to look at three styles as that was all my hair could afford for options. Style number 1 was like Abraham Lincoln but with the added bonus of a 'tache. Needless to say, it looked weird and stupid in an unprofessional way. Style 2, just the 'tache. Looking at that face on the mirror I believe most people would have still mentioned 10 eastern European nationalities before thinking Mexican. Style 3, now I am not proud of this, but in the spirit of messing about, I had to do it. I tried one of those small moustaches that might have been popular in Germany up to 1945. Hilarious consequences, but not something you can don whilst walking down the street.
Having eventually removed all facial hair I became aware of one thing, my beard was acting like a 'Body shaper' for my double chin. I am beginning to think that it was more like a net holding all that flab up. It was a sad and scary moment. There contemplating that my fat body was a bit skinny, compared to my multiple chins. Things didn't improve when I put on my suit. Sure, black is a flattering colour, but by then my shirt and tie were working like a Wonderbra (r), pushing it all out and forward. I felt for a moment as if a bouncer's fat head had been placed on top of my shoulders. Besides, my belt shrank one hole in the wash. A dark day indeed.
I managed to get to the interview on time. It was a fairly reputable company who were part of a very reputable fashion brand. Not Topshop you bloody commoner. Though it went well I think my expression must have changed when they mentioned shift work. For that I would work in a bar, which would be more fun. On my behalf, considering that it would pay less than my previous job, that shifts would come into it and a few other things, that job and I were not made for each other. On their behalf, I am too charming and good looking to steal the limelight of the whole IT department, my suit and my Marks and Spencer's shirt were definitely not what they were looking for.
I got the call not much later saying that though they liked me and were impressed with my skills, they would not be calling me back for a second interview. The typical It's not you, it's me. I wasn't that upset as I have been at the job hunt like a desperate drunk in a town's club.
On the way home, before the fated call, about to get on my train I caught a glimpse of my reflection on the carriage's window. Amazing how quick a metamorphosis can take place. Only a few, maximum 3, hours of me wearing a suit and I already had a smug look on my face. I know what I will become if I am given half a chance.
All I can do for now is to keep you posted, concentrate on getting a job and then decide what to do with this blog. I have things in mind, but one has to respect it's nature. I have to respect my loyal audience. One that can compete in ratings with shows on BBC4, because let's face it, it is only me and a handful out there who are keeping an eye on it.
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