**The title of each blog entry will now be something appropriate to the author's mood. There is one rule, however. It must be the title of a song. Artists name at foot of blog entry**
After an obscene hiatus from blogging, our protagonist, Madam Noir begins to mull over what she can possibly say that is of the slightest interest to her two (yes, that's right - two) followers. It's true, these last 6 months have not been the best, career-wise.
January - got a job temping in recruitment. Was forever referred to as' the temp' or 'our temp'. This was only supposed to be a 12-week thing, something to see her through financially as she reluctantly made some improvements to the rented accommodation that her 'piece of shit' relations had trashed over a prolonged period of time. More fool her for letting them do it.
February - continued in dead-end role. Spent what seemed like 3 weeks waiting for the 'powers that be' to allow her access to company email and t'internet. Colleagues were nice enough, apart from one girl who viewed her as a threat. She was a guppy-eyed, bleached blonde lass from Peterlee (the colleague, not Madam Noir). She naturally felt threatened, given her lot in life. Madam Noir tried her best to be 'nice' (god, how she hates that word ' 'nice'.......so insipid) and chatted to her when she could. You see, Madam N was very much a believer in the school of thought that says if someone is gives off signals that they don't like you...then you are duty bound to be as 'over-the-top', sickly nice to them. This confuses the shit out of them, obviously. One girl was canny - she had red hair and yellow teeth. Nice girl, friendly, hadn't been on the team long, was also a 'temp' prior to her permanent appointment. See, the underdogs must stick together. The meek shall inherit, and all that...
March - as February, but now blonde, guppy-faced Peterlee lass now 'warming' to Madam Noir slightly. Perhaps because Madam N single-handedly did enough of her scanning to last her to the menopause. Possibly. Madam N realised at this point that she should probably be looking for another job. By the very nature of the word, 'temp' means just that. As in, short life-span. Whatever.
April - as Feb/March........tick, tock, tick, tock (boring myself now by just thinking about the banality of it all).
May - May 5th was Madam N's last day there. They bought her wine (she drank it), flowers (they went straight in the bin.....she couldn't be bothered to fanny on looking for a vase) and chocolates ('Dairy Box' - unpleasant in the extreme). Still, it's the thought that counts, eh? She signed on at the jobcentre and they took a whole month to work out that she was owed some money. No wonder this country is going to the dogs.
June - period of 'resting'. Then was summoned for interview by an agency. They had secured an interview for Madam N at a well known public sector company. She attended the 'interview'. It was the most bizarre experience - not one question asked about her ability to do the role that they were offering. No mention of her previous experience. She left feeling utterly confused. As she drove home, the agency called. They wanted to offer her the job, loved her, thought that she would fit in really well (as they apparently 'recruit for personality'). She accepted, but was left feeling totally amazed at the decision.
She eventually lasted 3 weeks in the role. They didn't provide any training, when she asked questions, she wasn't given a decent explanation, they were all very 'clique-y'. And to make things worse, they all banged on about that bloody 'Fifty Shades of Grey' book. She should have taken that as a sign....
she went out for lunch one day and received a call from the agency. The company had called them to say that 'things weren't working out' (no kidding!?) and that she could leave at the end of the day or at the end of the week. She returned to the office, collected her belongings and left, feeling such sweet relief as she sashayed out of the building.
And so, onto July. After much thought, Madam N has decided to have a period where she does not work. She will study during this time, and may get some part time work. But, why does a job have to define who you are? Surely Madam Noir is no less a person because, almost 40 years into her life, she has realised that she doesn't want to do what she has always done. Some go their whole lives, fooling themselves that they love their job. Not her.
So.....we shall see.
Two Men, A Drum Machine and A Trumpet.
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