Well, faithful reader, you will be relieved to learn that my integrity has, I believe, remained intact. At around 2.45pm yesterday, with 30 minutes to go before I needed to leave the house for my interview, I donned my Next suit and briefly enjoyed the strange sensation of looking like a grown up. But as I observed myself in the mirror, I felt fraudulent. I am not a wearer of business suits - even when 'teamed' with an unusual shirt that suggests that I may still be in possession of a personality. And moreover, interview for well-paid job or no, I didn't want to give the City gents the idea that I am the type of person to wear business suits. So I changed back into normal clothes and went along.
My pink coat definitely turned heads in the grey office building; things on the trading floor seemed predictably intense and galaxies away from the work environments I've experienced. But maybe that's not such a bad thing. The man I spoke to was nice and... well... we'll see what happens. I'm aware of a degree of vagueness in my account but on the off-chance they read this sort of thing I am trying to keep my nose clean - the need for complete confidentiality was stressed even at the first stage of the interview process. How terrifyingly adult.
Today I have been efficient, baking a cake and taking my cowboy boots to the cobblers (ooh, use of cobblers seems unexpectedly outdated - I'm experiencing a sudden tingling sensation akin to having accidentally said 'wireless' in front of someone I'm trying to impress. Do we not call them cobblers any more? Please advise...). I should probably be applying for further jobs but with two or three opportunities hanging in the balance, it's hard to gather the necessary momentum for interminable form-filling and CV adjusting. And on the off-chance I do find full-time employment in the near future I need to revel in this brief spell of home-making as much as I can. Bree Van De Camp eat your fictional heart out.
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