A few months ago after endlessly being given menial tasks at work (which often ran into my own unpaid time) I decided to leave. I knew it was the right thing to do after I realised it was assumed automatically by everyone I would do these things. There is nothing like coming to comprehend that deciding on a nominated loser is unnecessary when you are permanently clutching the short straw to spur you on to thinking about other career options. Or so you would think. I had given myself a leaving date of a couple of months down the line so that I had plenty of time to search for a job which I would also love but which wouldn�t leave me seething with resentment and an �it�s all so unfair I hate you!� foot-stomping, soul-burning passion. My leaving date arrived and I had barely bothered to look for a shiny new job. But at least I now had plenty of time to do so.

I spent the next six weeks lazing about, watching insects fly by, drinking lemonade, reading, sleeping, watching films and getting asked out by someone I really like/d. Oh yeah, that sweet whiff of unemployment and apathy is so alluring. It was quite an awesome time to be honest. I�m not knocking unemployment. The constant fear of the future being at the back of your mind is a bit of a downer but I found it surprisingly easy to quash it to the cobwebby brain crevices. So much so that I continued to barely make any effort to find myself the shiny new job. I signed up to an online thing and did some internet searching but in total I probably spent less than two hours looking for work. This, by the way, is an entirely different version to the one my mother heard.

In all, I sent off three applications for jobs probably above my station but heck, start at the top, right? I got calls back from all three. I don�t know how I pulled it off. I basically duplicated the same information three times and modified it slightly each time depending on the person specification. The first interview wanted me to come back for a second and I decided I couldn�t really be arsed. Hawk says I frequently say �effort� which in itself is an incredibly lazy way of saying �It really seems like too much effort to warrant me moving�. I wasn�t interested enough in the job and after the first interview it all seemed a bit confusing. My mother also never heard quite the same version about this as I couldn�t take the squawking about turning down good offers. She is from an entirely different school of thought from me. I.e. she is a hard working, reasonable and rational human being.

On Monday I went to a job interview wearing jeans, trainers and a t-shirt. I am so out of order, I know. I bumbled, stumbled and grappled for answers to questions that with my experience and by doing any research beforehand I really should have known immediately. I sounded like a pillock. They said they had lots of interviewees but would get back to me at some point later in the day. I took this to mean �Thanks, but eh, no thanks, you time wasting scumbag.�

Not only was there this intimidation but the building is very flash and swanky. They have those toilets with a big circle that flush automatically with a touchless high five. Apparently they are in the process of a seventeen million, yes, SEVENTEEN MILLION pound refurbishment. Jeeeeeeeeeeeesus. You know what that buys you? Fucking swanky toilets, very high ceilings, state of the art technology, a gym and a Costa coffee, that�s what. I think it also buys a few beefed up security guards. I felt like I was Jennifer Connelly in Labyrinth asking the left and right doors directions because the security pointed different ways. It was eerily silent. There were people milling about but seemingly whispering.

�Ahhhh well� I thought afterwards as I strolled round the park with Hawk and an ice lolly. �I�ll be a better interviewee for the other job that I have an interview for on Friday. I�ll do at least forty seconds research and I�ll find the answers to questions I couldn�t answer last time.� Basically I was lying to myself. They phoned to offer me the job three hours later.

I accepted.

I should probably attempt to go for the other interview as it might also be a good job. It�s effort though and I can�t be bothered.

Somehow doing everything badly, time wasting, not bothering, being underdressed, being grossly unprepared and a fool has paid off. I have never been a lucky, lucky bastard before. It feels strange and I am now awaiting the payback.

Soso