Monday, 11 April 2011

I Can't Help That I Think You're Really Kickin'

I won't - I've got shit to do... but I could if you needed me...

And, Boys and Girls, the reason your Pixie has shit to do is because she seems to have landed herself gainful employment (and apparently the resultant requirement to speak about herself in the third person and start sentences with conjunctions - sorry... I'll stop it now)

I got a call from a recruitment agency who I hadn't actually registered with already - apparently there was one (who knew!) stating that they had seen my CV online and would I be interested in a secretarial / audio typist position.

"Why yes, I would be very interested" I replied

"Can you come in to register this afternoon?" They said

"Why yes, I could" I answered, compliantly

So I rock up, am generally awesome and charming and capable of spelling actual words and forming actual sentences and typing and using a word processor and not dribbling on my shoes and everything.

"Can you go for an interview tomorrow (Friday)?" Asks Rachel, who by this point has become my liaison in the whole affair

"Why yes, Rachel I can"

So I rock up to the interview with approximately 30 minutes preparation due to a variety of buggering about in hill forts, sheep bothering and hospital visitations by my increasingly bionic mother the day before... and am generally awesome and charming and make the panel laugh and exchange wry smiles and witticisms, all of which preceded a call a few hours later asking if I would be available to start on Monday....

"Why yes, Rachel I would be delighted"

So I'm now in my second week of being a secretary for a Chartered Accountant's firm, I have removed my lip piercing in order to conform to the required sartorial standards and seem to have utterly sold out to 'the Man'... but actually - I'm really rather chipper about the whole thing.

Of course there is a strong possibility that I'm chipper because the sun is out and beer gardens seem warm and welcoming instead of merely the haunts of social pariahs and our death sticks, and not because my inner rebel is finally satiated... but I really hope not... I'm almost getting used to the idea of being a grown up...




I said 'almost'

Infantile yet wonderfully employed Pixie out