March 2009


Sweet Honey Moon

We are up and on the road by 4am. It is a long drive down to the southernmost tip of England, but the roads are fairly empty at this crazy time and we arrive at 8am, just in time for breakfast. There is the added benefit of the surrealism of nighttime, which always makes the start of a holiday more exciting.

wave

We are the only people staying at Landewednack House , and our stay in the 'Coastal Coach House' - a little self-catering cottage on the side of the main building - is nice and peaceful, complemented by the resident chef's amazing meals and the fresh bread each morning. The food is all locally sourced and as the only guests we really feel special when we are asked what we would like to eat before each meal is bought for us. I do have a moment of terror when, after explaining my hatred of fish and seafood, I am asked so shall I treat you as a vegetarian? Fortunately, the steak we are fed shortly afterwards is absolutely amazing.

champagne breakfast

Nothing is open this time of year, so we spend our time walking around with a day at the Eden Project, a day walking up the coast, exploring the fog and visiting lots of garden centres to stock up the garden. We find little ports and harbour towns we've never seen and even the walk to St Michael's Mount is a good day although it's closed. It is all very restful, if a little eerie with all the closed gift shops and cafes and only the briefest of encounters with other humans.

sunlight

I manage to find some fudge for the traditional workmate appeasement, but as soon as I go back to work, I am struck down and have to spend three days in bed with a cold.

Submitted by dash on Fri, 20/03/2009 - 12:01




Interviews and Outer Views

Slightly disappointed to only find 50 emails waiting for me when I return to work, I maliciously contract a cold which may require me to have a couple more days off after my two-week break. Most of the messages are tedious day-to-day efforts and announcements of dull seminars although I do have a persistent spammer from America who really thinks I need to join his audio conference on "Handling Difficult Conversations: Keys to Stopping Bad Behavior". Of course everyone in the office denies signing me up for anything.

I have to apply for my own job. I send in a form, which I am assured is merely a formality. 70 other people do the same. Mine basically says I can do the job because I have been doing it for the last year so if you think I've done a Good Job, then let's just getonwithit! Of the 170 who apply for the job to work with me, only five are chosen for interview. The shortlisting process is arbitrary and horrifying, I personally bin about 20 forms for typos, too short, too long, too annoying... I pray that writing my (new) name in bold in BIG LETTERS will make sure I get picked. Of course I will. But they haven't written to me yet.

One girl writes I am a bubble. That's it. It is a shame that they don't give her an interview on the strength of this, if only just to ask what the hell she is on about.

I meet all the applicants after their terrifying interviews and to be honest I am fairly 'meh' about the whole thing. It doesn't help that I am plagued by sneezes and sniffles but I give my opinion and make cruel first impression character judgements to shock and dismay.

As usual my views are different to the panel's and they are uncomfortably interested in whether I think I will be able to work with them. The first is too talkative, too negative, too annoying. The second too fresh, a bit green, third is okay, fourth is strangely excited by the whole thing and the last is a bit, well, empty. What do I care? I say You haven't given ME a job yet!

An ongoing failure of kitchen etiquette ends with the mysterious re-appearance of about 30 teaspoons. I can finally drink coffee free of biroid ink.

Submitted by dash on Tue, 17/03/2009 - 16:41