when I was about 19 or so…
working for a double-glazing window company…
on the other side of the world.
Ok – not that far, but, damn, it felt that far – it was like, an hour’s journey on the bus.
Now if I knew the frikkin job was that frikkin far, I would have packed some frikkin lunch, wrapped it in red gingham, tied it to a stick and went on my merry way. I get ratty when I’m peckish, an hour without snacking is too long – I’m a Gemini, there’s two of me to feed.
(Read a book on the bus to pass the time? Eat a book more like. A book can look like a sandwich if you look at it the right way – especially if it’s softback. Yum.)
A WORD OF ADVICE:
NEVER GET A SALES JOB IN DOUBLE-GLAZING – UNLESS YOU HAVE A WINDOW FETISH.
My job (‘cos I’m blessed, you see) was to ring people up to find out if they were interested in having new windows fitted and whether someone could call them back to discuss it further. That was it. Entertaining, innit? Calling up little old ladies that were too scared to say ‘No’ was not my idea of fun. Neither was having the phone dropped on me. Or calling up a guy who for some reason thought I was a call girl and wanted me to rub Vaseline all over him.
And everytime a potential customer agreed to a call-back, my work colleagues would stop what they were doing, turn round in their seats and clap for me like we were in some kinda hippie commune.
I was a student. ‘Free’ was my middle name. The company had free biscuits, free tea, free coffee. Schweet!
But, at the end of the day, there just weren’t enough munchies to make me go back.
Not even if they threw in a bag of peanuts.
And a bag of jelly babies.
And Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream. Vanilla.
And, and, and a big dirty bar of creamy milk chocolate.
Nope. Not even then.