Showing posts from October, 2017

Applying for that job

I have just finished a job application, a very uncomfortable experience for anyone English I would suggest, for to complete a good application you have to promote yourself shamelessly.  The whole process makes me want to cringe as I try to persuade the local manager of B&Q that I am the fulcrum around which their DIY business needs to revolve and that my two degrees and years of work in a quite surprising array of different jobs have been leading me to this moment, this one chance to sell shower heads like they've never been sold before! To be honest, the job I have just applied for is a bit more senior than that, although just think of the discounts you would get... The post is ideal for me and this has proven to be one of those rare occasions where I looked through the job spec and thought, 'yep, fine', which is very encouraging.  The trouble of course comes when I then have to demonstrate my all-round genius and capability in the specified areas. How do you persu

The country's no place fer a mobile phone!

Living in the country, we struggle at the best of times to get any appreciable mobile system.  Between us, the family has been through the whole range of service providers with variable results.  Most of the time this is a minor irritation but occasionally it becomes a fag. These days when you want to spend a reasonable amount of money online or to set up a payment, sensible banks will occasionally ask you to confirm details.  They do this by sending a 'one time passcode', or OTP.  This is an admirable idea and one I fully support, even as I am leaning out of the bathroom window holding my phone at arm's length, weakly imploring this magic that is a mobile signal to smile on me and bless my device with a connection.  The key problem is that these OTPs are time limited, so often once I have managed to complete a pilates exercise of rare athleticism, the deadline has passed and I have to start all over again. Security is very clearly A Good Thing but I wonder if the peo

Teenagers: it is you

An age old ritual was played out this morning, with the boy furiously emptying the airing cupboard trying to find some trousers for school - trousers he had only picked up off his floor and put in the washing bin the day before, leaving the laundry maid (me) all of a flutter as begging-your-pardon but it had been my day off and I had gone to the steam fair in Cholmondley-under-Brisket. My response at 7.30am was, of course, slightly less lyrical but this is how I would have liked to have answered his tirade.  I find the level of annoyance created by (i) humour and (ii) pretend lyrical references to be very rewarding. The tragedy of teenagers is that they think they're the first to have been in this situation. 'You don't understand!' - they cry but sadly, we do.  Unless you're a liar or in denial, you've been angry over something trivial like socks or a cup and you have blamed your parents and the universe for this catastrophic failure (mostly your parents but