A break in the clouds.
A break in the clouds.
I shouldn’t complain really. When I was married, I had cause to complain. It’s over five years since I got away from that torment and every year since has brought me new wonder and amazement in the things I have been able to do.
I’ve run half marathons, a full marathon, a duathlon, jumped out of a plane three miles up and travelled all over the U.K. as well as some of Europe. My job, when I started was ok. Not exactly a high flying career but it paid the bills and kept me out of mischief. As time went on, the job changed, staff were let go and management made it clear they didn’t give a toss about the wellbeing of its workers.
I’d had enough after a couple of years there but as I’m not exactly over qualified for anything, trying to find something better wasn’t easy. i’ve had interviews but always i’ve not gone any further. The last straw was when my hours were cut, although they still wanted the same amount of work done in the time. My finances were already near to the bone with no luxuries involved in my day to day life.
Earlier in the year, my daughter and son in law suggested that they buy a house for me to live in and pay something towards the mortgage. we sat on it for a while, but in June I moved into my darling little house with its own garden. I love it. The angels must have been looking too as the summer has been such that I’ve hardly been indoors. Just the other evening, we sat outside with Blondie playing in the background as we sipped red wine into the dark as the sun disappeared. It can’t get much better than that surely!
To top it all I start my new job in three weeks. Somebody from upstairs in my workplace recommended me to a cafe owner across the road. It’s fewer hours but a higher hourly rate so I won’t be too much poorer. What I will be is rich in appreciation for what I do and who I am. My new employer says she isn’t my boss, just a co worker. She hugged me. Me!
Apparently i am to have a leaving do at the pub over the road from work. It’s not my employers that are organising it. My boss won’t come to it. My customers tell me that I will be badly missed and want to give me a proper send off. Sounds like a wake to me!
Can’t wait though. I’m a lucky duck.
Fab weekend in the sunshine, involving a good five mile run on Sunday and then about twelve miles of walking yesterday. In spite of slapping on the sun block I managed to get two patches of sunburn on both arms. The first one is in the shape of a dragon, strangely,and the other a snail. How odd is that? Shame I can’t get pictures on here really but it just doesn’t show up on photo’s. We spent the rest of the day flaked out on the sofa eating cherry ice cream. Yum!
I’d had a dry throat all of yesterday and was beginning to think it was a bit more hay fever. By the time I went to bed I was coughing like a forty a day Capstan full strength smoker. I felt completely wiped out but couldn’t sleep. It was blimmin hot and uncomfortable and I managed to drink nearly a litre of water during the night. The alarm had been set for four thirty but I didn’t need it as I was already awake. I got up and used my inhaler in prep for my run, but quite soon I realised there was no way I could run as my nose was running faster than I can and my chest was wheezing like an old steam engine.
Back to bed for an hour when I really had to get up to go to work. Another lovely sunny day but hellish hot in the restaurant. I felt more bleurgh as the day went on and even though it’s early, I am ready for my bed.
…it has to be up. Surely. Tell me it is.
It seems that I’m stuck. Somewhere in limbo I think. Maybe that’s not a good word for it. The bottom of a well might be a better choice.
Why is this?
Let me start in January. There I was getting up, going to work, coming home again after an eleven hour shift and sleeping more or less until it was time to get up again. Sometimes I’d even get up an hour earlier and run, but it was like trying to get through wet tar and not fun.
The worst bit was going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark. I swear I developed a prison pallor. Then one day of the first week of the year, someone told me about vacancies coming up in the emergency call centre next door to my building. The staff from there often came into the restaurant I work in and we had become quite friendly.
I downloaded the application form. It all looked very wordy and technical so a friend from work helped me fill it in and one of the detectives looked it over and approved it for sending off. The confirmation of receipt from HR told me to expect a decision after four weeks so I went about my usual business and waited. And waited. And waited.
Two months later, amazingly, I was invited to attend an assessment and interview. I was given details of what would happen and even the questions I would be asked at the interview. Easy!
Eventually, having prepped as well as I could, the day dawned. Everyone there was nervous. Waiting to be divided up into groups, was rather like waiting for the hearse to arrive for a funeral. It was a long morning and by the time I left the building, I was mentally exhausted and tearful, knowing that my effort was not going to get me anywhere. I wouldn’t employ me after that and I wouldn’t expect anyone else to either.
Nearly four months after filling the application in, I got the e mail telling me I hadn’t got the job. At the time, I was in the pub with a load of people from my building at a retirement do. One of the girls there did get the job. There had been a load of vacancies so my shame was even greater knowing there hadn’t been a real battle. It felt like my world had crashed even though I had always known I wasn’t good enough for it.
Reading the feedback that night would have been much too painful, so it was left until the next day. It was read with one eye closed to make it easier. Suprisingly some of it wasn’t bad and cheered me up no end. Mind you, some of it was absolutely awful. I don’t have to tell anyone about that though do I?
Telling people at work was embarassing. Of course, everyone was lovely and encouraging but I wouldn’t have expected less. By the end of the day, I could think about it without wanting to cry or run away. I’d get over it. I was over it.
The thing is though, I don’t have any hope now. Although I knew in my heart that I wouldn’t get the job, I always had hope. There is nothing without hope.
Well,I’ve got a lot going on at the mo. in fact,my brain is feeling a bit overloaded with stuff. If the activity up there could be seen,it would look like a child’s scribble or maybe an unravelled ball of wool.
Work isn’t as bad as it could be just now, but then I spend most of day imagining myself telling Idiot Boss to stuff his job. Who knows if that will ever happen,but if next Saturday goes according to plan, I will be able to. My assessment and interview for the Police call centre is set for then. Two and a half hours of hell. I’m rubbish in tests and interviews.