JOBS APPLIED FOR: 0
CUPS OF TEA: 2 (I am, at present, consuming a tasty Haagen Light beer though)
DAILY QUOTE: "Today I stood and walked away/I’m never coming back this way/I’ve got my things, I’m here to stay/I’ll try to walk another way." - Does It Offend You, Yeah?
Today I had a wee sleep-in, like the slovenly lass of leisure I am. Actually, it was the first proper lay-in I've had in over two weeks or possibly more and before you get your knickers all a-twistin', I'm not complaining about that. More just stating a fact. I know some of you are Proper Grown Ups with Real Jobs and Squalling Brats that get you up very early.
Anyway, between doing media+publicity for This Is Not Art and being a little hypomanic due to forgetting a couple of doses of medication because of the ephemeral, whiz-by nuttiness of TINA, my sleep patterns have been all messed up.
However, I digress. After my lovely sleep, I got up, cleaned the house and got some groceries. Among these was the Saturday paper (the Newcastle Herald) which I intended to peruse for jobs. I figure if job searching is an inevitability, it may as well be as pleasant as possible. So, like lady muck, I sat with my strong tea and bruschetta and circled things. I'm one part girl, one part comfort-seeking instincts.
I quite liked the look of some of the administration and officey type jobs. I could do reception or cubicle bitch. It would give me an excuse to wear my fishnets and a sexy little flared skirt. Even a polka dotty shirt with a bow at the neck. Orright, I sez, officey I can do. There's four admin jobs circled that I will be applying for tonight. Some of them are with government departments, and others are with dentists or doctors.
I wonder if the doctor in question would let me try on his white coat? I'd rather enjoy that. I wonder if I need really good teeth for a job like that, and if at the interview they'd pull my lips down and inspect the health of my enamel and gums, much like a horse?
One of the job ads made me giggly muchly. It said "must want to contribute to society". The job in question was as a medical receptionist.
How does that work? We answer phones and dispense with agony aunt advice? We mend broken hearts? We tell them the good news about Jeebus while they get casts set? We save kittens from burning buildings in our cigarette break? Not that I have a cigarette break (anymore).
I'm intrigued. Perhaps they have some kind of complex plan for the apocalypse involving shorthand and instant coffee that I don't know about.