One bad day deserves another.
Yesterday has to rate as one of the worst on record. It started with that gut wrenching news that a candidate who was full of the joys of spring to accept an offer 24 hours earlier had spoken with her current employer and, hey-presto, a better offer had materialised. Good luck to both parties. Nothing better than a relationship built on trust and mutual respect.
So, back to the drawing board and several thousand pounds wasted on a Waster.
I decided my head was not right for work so went swimming instead. Quite irrationally I became irritated as someone was in the changing room standing where I stand! Ridiculous thing to get irritated about I know – but it threw me. Into the pool only to discover that the only space available was between two of what we describe as “Blatters”. These are the tough guys who normally dress up in swimming hats to cover their bald heads and have them stupid little goggles on that just cover their eyes and Budgie Smugglers just about cover their three piece. They proceed to “blat” up and down the pool creating a tsunami every time they go past. All I want is a quiet swim for Christsake.
Then, out of the corner of my eye I notice. “Mr Smith and his PA”. This is the middle-aged business man and his bit on the side that have sneaked away from the office for a dirty night away on some Conference or other that doesn’t actually exist. For some reason they think it is acceptable to tangle themselves up in the corner of the pool and make giggly noise and grunts. Do they think we don’t know what they are doing or where their hands are?
“Just stop it”, I want to shout, “We have to swim in this water, you know. You wouldn’t do it in the middle of your Accounts Department so don’t do it here”.
Relaxing swim not even begun I head back to the office only to find that the guy who was in Dubai and wanted me to find him a £80k+ job in Norfolk without him needing to go for an interview had been on the phone again! This time I was ready for him. I called him back and gave him both barrels. No I hadn’t found anyone stupid enough to pay him £80k a year without meeting him and I wasn’t going to. Norfolk people are no more naïve than any others in that respect and if he wanted a job in Norfolk then he needed to do what anyone else would do and make himself available for an interview. I also reminded him that we didn’t work for him, we work for employers and if he wasn’t intending to be more polite if he phoned again then I would be pleased to furnish him with the telephone numbers of recruitment companies who might be prepared to tolerate him. But I wasn’t. Should have done that weeks ago – it’s more therapeutic than swimming.
You want a final straw. Left to my own devices to prepare my evening meal I decided to try a recipe for all-day spaghetti breakfast. Healthy and tasty it was supposed to be. All went well to start then I had to pour over the mixture a blend of raw eggs and fromage fraise. Now my old Mum always warned against the dangers of raw egg, along with several other deadly things. So, despite the recipe calling for the mix to be poured over and slightly thickened I overdid it and ended up with what looked like a mixture of Spaghetti and beige cous-cous with some bacon and tomato thrown in. It tasted like it looked and most was binned.
The moral is – Bad days are only there to make you appreciate the good ones. I’ll try to remember that.