* jazzyhands *

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I had my interview today. Three interviews in three days, sure am getting my money's worth out of that fancy suit jacket. I actually brought the jacket when I was interviewed for my last job, 3+ years ago. The agency said to dress VERY corporate so I didn't want to wear my only suit which was bright red. I used my last remaining dollars to get a VERY corporate jacket and the investment paid off (well in some ways). Then the poor old jacket sat in cupboard for three years since about 5 seconds into the interview I realised that the company wasn't all that VERY corporate at all judging by the dress standards of my interviewers.

I think I wore the jacket about 3 or 4 times while I was working, mainly from a 'I spent so much money on this jacket, I am damn well going to wear it' type guilt. Of course,every time I wore it to work someone would ask if I was going for a job interview. That's the type of work environment it was.

So anyway, this post was not going to be the life history of my jacket although it is evolving that way. My point being that the plus side of unemployment is that you get to wear your best corporate attire.

Well today's interview... I think it went well after a strange start. I got to the office and walked into reception. The reception area was unattended so I waited, thinking someone would turn up soon. I waited and I waited.

Five minutes (by the reception phone clock) passed, still no receptionist. I could hear people in the offices around so I coughed a little "hello, I'm here" cough and kept waiting. Ten minutes, and I am leaning over the reception desk checking things out, looking for a bell or buzzer and coughing up a storm. Fifteen minues and I am starting to think this some kind of weirdass recruitment agency psych-out test ... see how long the desperate unemployed person will wait, or maybe some kind of candid camera stunt. I start wondering if I should wander down the hall and knock on an office door.

Suddenly a man pops his head out an office door. He says he didn't realise anyone was at reception and I should have rang the bell. He looks around and finds the bell hidden behind a stack of business cards. Oops.

After that, things went fine. I will hear something next week. Fingers crossed.

Then, since I was on the side of town, I thought a trip to Borders would be a plan. I grabbed a few books and settled into a comfy cafe chair with a big coffee and some raisin toast (here's a tip: Jam Factory Borders might have a far better range of books but their raisin toast is the same old mediocre shit you could get from Coles; Carlton Borders has less range but they have magnificent fruit toast, big and chunky with whole dried apricots in it. Fabalicious. They also have chai tea which the Jam Factory Borders doesn't).

I was browsing through How to Write a Dirty Story by Susie Bright completely lost to the world. When I finished I was all embarassed. Not in a I'm reading a book on writing dirty stories and what would my nan say kind of way, because that doesn't bother me ... my nan's in Tasmania and she'll never find out and it isn't embarassing like asking for a herpes-girl haircut... but in a caught sleeping in public kind of way. I don't even like reading on public transport because I hate that feeling of being so caught up in a story or whatever that I am totally unguarded in public.

You watch people on the train and you can really catch them out - I don't want to be like that. It's that moment when you snap back to reality and you don't know what your body has been doing because you have been so totally in your mind, what facial expressions you have been expressing, that type of thing.

But anyway it is a good read, entertaining enough to get me off guard.

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