Now that I’ve kept it for a week, I’ll explain my job. It’s not very exciting, but I definitely like it. I do office stuff involving the university’s spending: paying conference fees, booking flights, buying books… all the while logging things into a lovable old spreadsheet and wasting mountains of paper. It’s not a very strenuous job, it pays well, and the work is interesting enough to usually keep me awake, so I’m satisfied with it.
How’d I get a job? Luck, basically. I called after seeing a notice on the job board at the office for my work-permit program so decided to give it a shot. Sent in my CV (resume) and called the next day to schedule an interview for later that week. After calling but before interviewing for the job I’m in now, I interviewed at the same school in a different department but for the same wage. For that interview, I was set: wide awake, a little dressed up, and I may even have actually made an effort at combing my hair! This paid off: the interviewer actually said “can you start Monday?” I enthusiastically affirmed, but then came the caveat: “you can stay until October, right?” I sighed and told the truth: “actually, I’m leaving in August.” Rejection, objections by me, and then more rejection followed as I went from having to losing the job.
But I got repaid through the job I have now. Even though I interviewed with a pounding headache (some may call it a hangover) after what can only be described as a rough night, I still got the position. What’s more, it started a day earlier than the job that lasted until October would have: honesty paid off. Moral of the story: getting up early and biking halfway across town when your body feels like sleeping for another 5 hours pays off.
The people I work with are great, but those querying the office leave a little to be desired. I’m the youngest in the office and the oldest are grandmas: a nice age spread, to say the least. Everybody gets along and coworkers buy me food; what more could I want? Actually, I definitely wouldn’t mind professors who weren’t tools. A few days ago, one screamed into the phone that he didn’t eat pork, salt, or milk after coming into the office a good 10 times that day. Another Einstein came in and asked for a form. A coworker responded that it was in the office next door, but navigation apparently isn’t in the PhD curriculum: this man of great learning asked how to get there!
In other news, my roomate is an old man. He befriended 2 geezers in a pub tonight, but they were definitely dodgy. One told me that I stick my tongue out so much that all I need is some jam on it to catch flies. This guy, who had to be at least 50 years old, also showed me his elderly buddy’s hands. Admittedly, they were a little blistered from some manual labor. He ended up saying he’d pay me 500 pounds for doing a day’s work at their job. If I can’t, I owe him a thousand. They mentioned that it involved concrete, so I scoffed and cited previous child labor mixing concrete with my dad. I really don’t think there’s any old man manual labor job I can’t do for 12 hours… my wallet sure hopes I’m right! Stupid old man and his in-mouth tongue, I’ll show them both:)