Smile - This Is Thursday
Entry posted by caldrail
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Okay. I've managed to get myself back off the floor. Wiped the last tears from my face, and given a last chuckle or two. But why, you may ask?
A couple of posts ago I mentioned that I would fall off my chair laughing if I ever heard a boss moaning that he couldn't find the staff. When I checked the local paper for job vacancies an editorial piece headlined with "Skilled Workers Are Hard To Find".
No, they're not. You simply have to create them instead of fishing in a market that everyone got to before you. One fun way is to have lots of sex but the more efficient (and probably cheaper) method is to invest in training. Ask Lord Sugar. He'll know what I'm talking about. Or maybe he doesn't, because he's just spent twelve weeks and oodles of tv license payers cash getting a horde of idiots to prove that British business is rubbish. I already know that. They keep firing me.
A Meeting With Big C
Another guy who's been fired is Big C. Grizzly bears step back and let Big C pass by. They have to because he's blocking the pavement. Or the sunshine if you're stood in his shadow. So a couple of days ago I experienced an eclipse of the sun and knew at once Big C wanted a word.
Actually he's a pleasant chap and we both had a chat about all these changes to welfare that the government have introduced. No, he doesn't understand it either.
Do It Again Caldrail
The seasonal rush to find skilled teachers is currently underway and our local council website lists lots of seductive offers for all sorts of posts in education. Most of them are are out of my reach since I'm not a skilled teacher, but surely the number of skilled teachers has improved since I was a schoolkid?
However, I did come across a job for a teaching coordinator, a role that not only allows me to capitalise on my experience, but also allows me to finally get revenge for all that homework I was forced to complete. For most vacancies you apply online and attach your CV. Easy. Just wait a few days and you get a rejection email.No hassle, no complications.
Applying for jobs in education though doesn't seem to be a simple process. Send an email to specified address. Receive an email with an application form attached. Complete that. Send it back. Receive an email telling you to do it all again because you got it wrong.
I can see I'm dealing with highly trained people here. No wonder they're screaming out for teachers. They're all working in Human Resources.
How To Survive Thursday Evening
All work and no food makes Caldrail a thin boy. Tme then to gird my loins and head for the fast food chains in the rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire.
As I aproach the bottom of the hill the various fast food outlets can see me coming a mile off. I wonder what goes through their minds? This is early thursday evening. It's not as if customers are queuing to be served. There's only a group of five or six revellers and if I were honest they don't seem to be revelling very much. So why don't these traders try to attract my attention?
"Hot wings! Get your hot wings here! Only twenty kilo's left and we have to sell them all!"
"Come on ladies and gentlemen, you can't get piri piri chicken like this in the shops!"
See? Imagine how much more business they'd do. By now I've made my choice and head for the chosen outlet. Having seen which outlet I've chosen, the revellers decide to try that one too. It's a customer service I provide.
"Jamie!" Screams the young woman with the money, "What chicken do you want?"
"I dunno." Says Jamie, obviously trying to be outrageous by being the only guy in Swindon who's this drunk so early in the evening. "Just buy some."
"Make a choice! What chicken do you want? Tell me!" She screamed
Somewhat worringly Drunken Jamie decided to trap me in the corner. It's a bit uncomfortable with some guy standing too close breathing alcohol fumes into your face. "Good food here." He tells me.
Phew. For a moment I thought I might have made a mistake.
"We're getting married soon." He says, pointing toward the young woman who seems to be ordering her meal by telepathy. Phew. For a moment there... No... That's too horrible to think about.
"You married?" He asks, beginning to waver dangerously. No... No I'm not...
"Well, I don't whether I should 'cos it's scary, you know, I mean, what could happen?" He rambled on. Well hey, that's life, if you don't try, you don't know. He seemed to accept my superior wisdom. That's the kind of customer service I provide.
Realising the danger I was in, the cooks supplied me with emergency rations and I was outta there. You see, Bear Grylls would have energetically got in and out via a disused ventilator to snatch a raw burger for much needed protein.. Ray Mears would have demonstrated how the crew of a crashed bomber survived by eating out for ten weeks. Me? I prefer to be served before I find myself trapped in an awkward social situation. All part of survival on thursday evening.
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