Okay, so the week started out on a bad footing. Sunday Evening and Charlotte was settled nicely at Grandma’s. Ben and I had a peaceful and pleasant time watching the Paralympics Closing Ceremony. We were in bed around 11.30pm, pretty late for us. Half an hour later, Ben sat on the loo with liquid squirting out of both ends. I was livid at first thinking it was the result of one too many Fosters in the sun, then panicked in case it was from the BBQ at Grandma’s (god knows what she used to light the goddamn thing)! We would all be poisoned!! Actually, poor Ben was in a bad way and definitely had some kind of horrible bug. As he settled back to bed, our new neighbours, students from Betty Laine’s Dance school came back from the pub with about 100 of their friends. This quiet residential family street in Epsom had turned into Magaluf and even worse, these students are all so beautiful, its hard to hate them. I did go downstairs in my sad pyjamas feeling older, fatter and frumpier than I ever have in my life, to have a word. Other neighbours took it a step further as the police turned up around 2.30am. Not a great start for them and very disrespectful behaviour on a school night – there I am being a frump again, but these days I seriously would rather just sleep!
It has been a tough week at work and I am fed up with people having a pop at Recruitment Consultants. It is my chosen profession and not all of us are full of complete bullshit. It is not my fault that if one of my clients is seeking a qualified financial adviser that I can’t help you get an interview because you are a waitress/hairdresser/police officer or school teacher even if you are good at adding up!
Sometimes in my job every phone call turns to gold. In April I was the number 1 consultant in the company. At this moment in time our office is seriously jinxed. I can’t say that I’m dealing with idiots as that would not be fair. Maybe I am the idiot for wanting to be a Recruitment Consultant in the first place. Oh, if I could turn the clock back to 1995. Maybe I should have been a holiday rep for ever and stayed in Ibiza with Shaggy and Stevie Sideburns.
Once again, my life is like Ground Hog day and I have never seen the film. After work its get home, make dinner, bath Charlotte, wash up, put Charlotte to bed. I am well trained. I even take the rubbish out and change light bulbs. Okay, I do the spotlights very badly and in places we have pieces of ceiling hanging out, but I do try. I am very trying according to my Benny Boy who is in the middle of writing a Best Man Speech for my sister’s wedding. He gets lots of ammunition for me.
My best ranting is done when I am pre-menstrual.
Charlotte is enjoying pre-school and she is now in her second week of the Early Learning Centre at her nursery. The first week there were tears every day when I dropped her off as she clung to my big fat juicy thigh. On Friday however, she cried when I picked her up as she was going to miss her friends over the weekend. I just can’t win.
Please show me the money god and let me place some candidates next week. Let the drought end so that I can shop in the new H&M in Epsom. That is all I ask of you. Amen.
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