The Waiting Man

So, Filipino food... Quite tasty in fact. Goes well with coconut water

Waiting... waiting for employment news, good or bad. Either is better than nothing

Well, the good news is that last night's Indian meal had no after-effects. No Gandhi's Revenge, no Delhi Belly, no Black Hole of Calcutta. Nope, naan of those...

Now... Of all the dozens & dozens of jobs applied for over the last few weeks, I had one interview for a sales role I really wanted & I had a phone interview for a part time counter-monkey job that I only went for as a worst-case-scenario liferaft. As cruel Fate would have it, I have a second interview for that one... never heard back from the one I wanted. O fortune, how you mock me!!

Well, managed to get some sleep last night, without resorting to a boring book. In fact 'World War Z - An Oral History...' is, after an evening & morning's reading, turning out to be far from boring...

Otherwise, a typical day of ups & downs ~ the death of my printer, with a paper jam error message unsupported by physical evidence & no amount of torchlight inspection, 'ER'-style histrionics, threats, swearing, or little taps with a little hammer revealing any lost, strayed, or recalcitrant fragments causing physical detriment. Nor did a websearch yield anything more than the usual advice of "Press several buttons in a random fashion & see what happens" variety

Resisting the urge to swear even worse & louder when the phone rang this afternoon was a wise decision, as it helped line up an interview for gainful employment. Nothing new, nothing fancy, just more of the same... but no less welcome for that... All I require from an employer these days is to see their five-year plan. They're always asking me for mine & then the damned place falls apart after two or three years, so I think I've earned the right to some guaranteed longevity

... After all, according to my birth certificate, my middle name isn't anything remotely like 'Jonah'

Been reading an online biography of Robert Fripp... my guitar hero & unofficial Life-Coach. Musically, personally & even emotionally, it seems we have many similarities, although I find myself operating on a less rational & more organic approach to a common goal... due, as far as I can see, to differences in personality, certainly, but mostly to circumstance. Life seems to be a lot more layered & complicated now than when he was able to make the decisions he did. But then, isn't it always..?

The question then becomes:~ How does one simplify life & eliminate distractions enough to make valid choices about direction & approach? Things like income... & all the lifestyle choices & obligations associated with its level...

For my Reader... some news over the last month or so you might have missed

The Loved One & I were married on 10.11.12 ~ just so the date was easy to remember. Simple civil ceremony, minimum family attendants, no friends, less-than-desirable location, but that's another story. Family dinner, then drinks with some friends the following day. Two days in Mudgee as a mini 'Honeymoon'... pretty much all we felt like after the USA trip

Kindasorta employed as a Sales Manager for a business telecommunications company. Odd sequence of events ~ a couple of stilted interviews, a few sheets of product information, then a week of cold-calling while the telemarketing team is assembled & their script is written (with a little input from me), then meeting some of my sales reps today & training them, when I'm only fractionally ahead of them in product knowledge. As long as I stay that way, it should be fine, right?. Employment contract to be signed this Friday, then three unpaid weeks off over Christmas/New Year

Which I may spend working in a bottle shop, after encountering a former workmate in CBD Cellars today. Whether I'd end up bringing home any money from that job is an interesting question

And now... please take five to remember Dave Brubeck... he will be missed

And so ~ seven days into my Exile from the mean streets of the Marketplace

Let's first backtrack to last Friday, when I spent the afternoon both chasing & pushing pieces of paper around, had a much-longer-than-expected talk with a prospective employer whom I'd visited only on spec, then played a second gig in my low-key return to musical pursuit & performance. Having stood in line at the local MissingCentreLink office for 30 minutes, it eventually transpired that all I needed could be done on the phone. Thence to the most convoluted opening of a new bank account I could imagine... Why do they need so much ID from someone who wants to give them money?

The conversation-which-became-an-interview was with the owner of a business that, 'til last Thursday, was in competition with me but now represents a possible lifeline. Sure, it was Friday afternoon & it wasn't too busy, but two hours talk & a beer was a lot more than I'd expected. Having refused the beer because I was playing a gig that night, my former competitor said he'd picked me as a musician not long after I'd walked in. Now, I've seen myself in the mirror often enough to know I don't have any instruments tattooed on me, nor do I wear a neon sign labelling me... so how do so many people I've met all seem to know that I'm a 'Musician'? And what is it about that pastime/preoccupation that makes it so remarkable to them?

The same was true of the gig that evening ~ a corporate 'Awards Night' for the advertising arm of a major media group, held at the Function Centre at Taronga Zoo. Plenty of wildlife was on display, but it was all in various degrees of fancy dress. Our singer/songwriter works for the conglomerate & had snared not only the gig, but places at a table, drinks & a three-course meal for her guitarists. And again, her colleagues were impressed that the two guys not in costume were 'musicians'... even though any one of them earns more than I do

Our five songs were performed against a cacophony of cutlery & conversation, with polite applause. My only complaints were that we had no monitors to hear ourselves & that we were called up to play just as I was about to sink my teeth into the pork belly entrée which, of course, had been removed by the time we returned to the table

The annual Coffee Festival at the Rocks on Sunday was overcrowded & underwhelming. Queuing for fifteen minutes for a dribble of espresso, then being barged into by the Great Unwashed & their double prams from all directions does not make for a grand day out. The Loved One & I agree it was probably our last attendance

Otherwise, the Jobseeker carousel spins ever around with its jaunty music & painted smiles. How many people want to run away from the Circus, I wonder?

My Sunday morning... on a Tuesday as usual. A bit of a sleep-in, but now up & waiting for 9am to roll around so I can phone a couple of Recruiters about positions they supposedly have available. I say 'supposedly' because nine times out of ten, I never hear anything from anyone about the e-mail applications I send &, today, one of the jobs I looked at which fitted my Profile even had the headline 'Test Job. Do Not Apply'. How many of those have there been, I wonder?

In the aftermath of Saturday's confrontation with Ownership & Management it's been interesting to learn two things. First; that my lazy-arsed cow-orker escaped any kind of official censure or penalty even though it has been his arrogant disregard for procedures & wilful disinclination to heed my requests for him to follow them, that landed us... well, just me apparently... in trouble in the first place. Second; that O & M are most likely selling my Branch to a competitor who also wants the furniture shop next door, with the aim of opening a large outlet of their own. If that's the case, no wonder they didn't fire me when I can be made safely & non-controversially redundant in the near future anyway.

And I have a cold!! L-SP brought it home a few days ago when I was in the middle of the mess described above & previously & I said I'd get it when I could relax a little. Sure enough...

Now:~ more coffee, breakfast & to the phone...

A day of mixed emotions.

I landed a job today... half an hour after the interview, they called & want me to start tomorrow. The call came as I was entering the car-park of Liverpool Hospital to visit my seriously-ill uncle. When I arrived at Intensive Care, I found out he'd died not long before I got there.

I've spent the day with family & my incredible partner, who incurred the mother of all taxi fares to travel from the city to Liverpool. It wasn't until about two hours after my arrival that I remembered to tell anyone my seven-month Centrelink-sponsored lay-by was over.

As happens quite often with me, I had applied for two jobs ~ one of which was a dream... perfect role, wonderful product, internationally respected company, great salary. The other was for a role, industry & products similar to those I had in my last 'proper' job eighteen months ago ~ & I hadn't wanted that job then, either.

So of course, I didn't get the dream role, but was almost immediately offered the 'Step Back(wards) In Time' job. The only good thing about it is that it's relatively close to home. Other than that, it's back to the land of seven-days-a-week retail sales on the Bogan-infested Northern Beaches.

Rest In Peace Uncle

Life continues to ooze at a slow ebb ~ awaiting the lubrication that only money can provide. Time then, to appreciate the little things... like the slow expansion of my Terry Pratchett paperback collection via second-hand stores & suburban market stalls. I'm finally into double figures. The inner sleeve of one recent purchase informed me he'd been knighted last year, which I hadn't known. And today, I learn that, in true British Eccentric fashion, he'd decided that what a Knight really needs is a sword... so he made one!! The accompanying story has a link to his webpage/blog/whateverhecallsit, which was another thing I didn't know about... but then, I'm not the kind of person who goes trawling the web for sites either set up by, or dedicated to, my Idols or Interesting People, so that's no surprise, really. I don't even know if Eric Clapton has an official site, or Donna Leon... or... you get the idea.

One person who most likely does have one is Neil Gaiman, whose works I'm slowly being introduced to by my Long-Suffering Partner, including being taken to a live reading/performance of a recent 'short' story by the man himself at the Opera House a couple of months ago... I think I'm becoming a fan.

The Black Dog of Depression & the Wealth-Sapping Wolves are both constantly baying at the door of WaitingManor, which is why the drawbridge is up, of late...

A meeting this morning in the Pit of Despair also known as Centrelink was notable only because of an interesting personal statistic which came to light during the eventual interview... Of thirty-one jobs I applied for in the last month, there were only two which resulted in an interview with the actual employer... or anyone apart from an automated e-mail response for that matter...

People say it's a numbers game. I say I need a die with more than six sides...

So... Six weeks on from my release for bad behaviour from DP2 & two things have not yet happened. The first is, obviously, no suitable employment has been wrestled to the ground. The second is that DSODD have not come to my bank balance's aid yet. A phone call to them this morning turned into a bit of a cross-country marathon, ending with a man in Perth who decided to start the whole process over from scratch ~ meaning another half-hour phone interview, then another personal interview on Tuesday next week before anything even begins to get processed & happening. I also had a call from another DSODD operative today, wanting to interview me about the circumstances of my departure from Debtor's Prison, with a view to establishing whether I get back-paid to the beginning of April (when I initially contacted them), or if I'll have to wait another two weeks for payment because I resigned (kinda-sorta) & didn't have the good fortune to be fired instead.

I knew I should have hit that store manager when I had the chance...

Meanwhile the automated e-mail responses to my myriad job applications keep rolling in.

A day of abounding stuff...

The Department of Subsidising the Old, Disabled or just plain Dumb (DSODD), or Centrelink as it's more commonly known are a strange lot. They want me to provide an earnings statement for some bank shares I have because an old superannuation fund I have was converted to shares a few years ago & I receive an annual cheque for about $100. Given that I never even bother to declare it in my tax return ~ just like I don't claim for a lot of random charity donations, so it evens out ~ I have no idea how they found out about it, but they have decided to withhold my unemployment allowance 'til I convince them this yearly pittance is not a major source of income for me.

Having already visited DSODD a couple of times in my quest to remain vaguely solvent & been given, variously, the cold shoulder, the paperwork shuffle & the old-fashioned run-around, I'm beginning to think it will be simpler to find a new job than trudge the exponential paper trail DSODD lay out before me. Only time will tell.

May tonight be fruitful.

From today's Seek.com e-mail with job opportunities matching my keywords...

Job 6: Sales Assistant
Location: Sydney - West
Salary: $30,000 - $40,000 including super
Classification: Sales & Marketing > Assistant/Co-ordinator
Description: Immediate start with a rapidly growing group of companies. Aggressive business plan. Most advanced solar systems and products.

Hmmm... they forgot to mention I must be prepared to travel long distances for work, have universal appeal, be a 'star' performer' & go the extra mile... or light year... to achieve results.

I'd be over the moon to land a job like that!! Except the salary doesn't look that great, especially since I'd need a new suit for it...

Any more puns? Leave 'em in the comments section, I'm outa space here...

And so my sentence at Debtor's Prison #2 looks set to be commuted to more soul-crushing hours at the local Centrelink Office, due to its not-entirely-unexpected undercrowding & underfunding ~ or more simply ~ the place can't afford to keep me any more & since the Warden Manager & I haven't really seen eye-to-eye since Day One, she has (most likely gleefully) arranged for my release in a fortnight's time from the shackles of Appliance Retail barely six months into my sentence tenure.

As an unreformed & as-yet-uncrushed optimist, I choose to see this as a blessing in disguise. Ask me again in two weeks when none of the jobs I've applied for have even bothered to get back to me...

On the plus side, the refinancing has borne fruit in the form of a new bed for us & the totally indulgent purchase of new albums by Peter Gabriel & Sting... How very 'Adult-Contemporary' of me!!

But just to show I'm down with this new-fangled technology, I also downloaded the new Massive Attack album tonight & it's soundtracking this post rather nicely.

Enough... time to construct some semblance of dinner from the cupboard contents.

Probably the last post for the year, given what the next 24 hours holds... more on that next year.

In summary:~ ( A year of losses & gains, both intentional & not so. )

This is how I feel at the moment:~...



There is a light in the distance, but I'm in a dark place & there are stormclouds between me & brighter times

The new job is, as pretty much expected, a no-brainer occupation. The trouble with this is, you work with people who have no brains, ruled over by a control-freak with an over-developed mothering complex. This authority figure sends out more mixed messages than an MPD afflicted teenager with ADHD... the kind of person who as good as tells you to find another job one minute, tells you who to contact to get one, then gives you dirty looks & attempts at sarcasm when you do exactly that.

Boy, do I know how to pick 'em! At least this job isn't as downright physically perilous as the last. We don't sell anywhere near enough plasma or LCD screens for me to get any kind of back injury carrying them around... although I did manage to cut my hand yesterday & I have no idea how or when. Didn't even know 'til I happened to notice blood on a piece of paper, then discovered it was mine. But their OHS officer can't be accused of shirking her job. She just happened to walk in when I was standing on an office swivel-chair moving screens & cables (In an extremely cautious fashion I must add... I know the risks, consequences & my limitations!!) & was told in no uncertain terms to get off the chair & find a ladder. After my last job, I'm not used to that... danger was the only part of the business that was good ~ as some long-time readers will recall.

Discussions continue with the friend who assures me the 'perfect job' pie is still in the sky & will soon be available for nourishment, as soon as his half-baked MD can tear himself away from Melbourne for a day or two... I can understand the reluctance to leave there, but dammit!!!... it's been nearly two months since this 'possibility' reared its head... Man can't live on the retail award wage alone. Lately I've been living the punchline to the old joke ~ "If you think nobody cares whether you live or die, try missing a couple of repayments."

Still, if money is the only thing I have to worry about, I'm better off than some. But that doesn't stop me worrying...

After six months of promising I'd shout it from the rooftops when/if I found another job, I find I can only whisper to the wind...

"... I have a new job..."

Mostly because it's not the job I want, nor the money/salary package I want, nor the industry I want, nor the... you get the idea. But it pays a damn sight more per week than Centrelink does ~ then again, begging on a city streetcorner pays better than Centrelink... & the hours are better, you get an open-plan office, nice view, meet new people every day... damn, why haven't I been doing that for all this time...

In the absence of a promised-yet-non-forthcoming better offer, it's back to retail work in an electrical appliance store. Pray, for my sake & theirs, that I don't have to wear a nametag.