It looks possible that in about a month I shall temporarily be leaving the student world behind and returning to being a professional for a minimum of six months. It’s not certain yet as it’s pending on a few details but I can’t help but ponder how I’ll feel going back to working full time. How will I adjust from student slobdom to being suited and booted once more?
Imagine, if you will, a hazy mist descending over the television screen of your mind as we enter into a flashback. If it helps you can also visualise the next few bits in some sort of black and white or sepia just for that authentic “this is not present day” effect.
A few years back I worked for a well known transport company in their insurance department dealing with claims from the public who may, for example, have had a collision with one of their buses or perhaps injured themselves on one of their trains. I started pretty low down in the division with vague hopes of working my way up fairly quickly. A position opened for team leader/manager (albeit still pretty low down in the scheme of things) and so naturally I went for it. I was easily the most qualified for the position but lost out to another woman who – and I realise I’m biased and bitter here haha! – was chosen simply because she was the oldest. She had no qualifications, barely spoke English (which is a problem when a large part of your job is writing letters to solicitors and third parties) and definitely had no respect from any of her colleagues. I almost left a thousand times but don’t like to give up easily and felt that part of my resentment may have been because I was a sore loser.
One thing I could say for the job was that it was damn funny. I’d like to say I was laughing with the people I worked with but I’m ashamed to say it was mainly at them… The following is a fairly good example at the comedy gold offered to me on a plate on a daily basis:
The team leader (for the sake of this we’ll call her Marion) and a colleague (who we’ll call Joan) were writing out the settlement cheques to send out to the solicitors.
Joan: How do you spell fifteen?
Me: F I F T E E N
Joan: So there’s no H in it?
Me: *after a moment of puzzlement* I don’t get it – where would you put the H?! Fifteen doesn’t even have an H sound in it!
Marion: Oh I think she wanted to put it next to the G.
She was not joking. I think I looked rather startled because she asked me if I was okay! I nearly choked on my own saliva. Next to the G?!! What the hell that woman was writing on those cheques I will never know.
I attempted to keep schtum and just drink my tea but failed dismally and sniggered so much that the tea ended up resembling a jacuzzi.
Marion: What you laughing about?
Me: Sorry! I just can’t really hear the letter “G” in the word fifteen…
Marion: Oh you said fifteen! I thought you said fifty!
Me: *dumbfounded silence*
It took less than 2 weeks for me to find myself another job.
I’d like to say I gave my next job a decent shot but I was only there for around three months. My boss was almost as intelligent as Marion.
Him: Have you had your hair cut? It looks short today.
Me: That’s because it’s in a pony tail!
Him: Oh yeah.
Easy mistake to make.
I can comfort you in one thing: we all face, from time to time, colleagues and bosses which we think are evolutions’ biggest mistakes. It helps a lot if you expect something like this to happen
Absolhutly hilagrious!
Heh, that conversation is classic – you should send it in to Dilbert.com for the in-duh-viduals section of the newsletter
This is great stuff, I’m definitely going to save your profile, you better keep this as standard from now on!