My Working Girl

First off, yes, I know full well what that phrase means.  But so be it.  I'm a big boy, I'll get beaten up by someone tiny, but I can handle it ;)

Anyways.  For those of you on Facebook or Twitter, you will have seen my status updates over the last few days pertaining to Miss Kellie.  For the last few months, she's been looking for work, determined to get out there and earn a crust.

Of course, the world being what it is at the moment (that is, a cattle pen for employers taking who they want - job seekers outnumbering job places), this has not been the easiest of grafts.  Most of the companies that Kellie has sent applications and CVs don't even have the common courtesy to say "Sorry, but you've not been successful at this time".

And (rant warning) I'm not even talking about little One-Man-Band style pharmacies, or little offices run by Marjorie The Pensioner.  I'm talking big fat corporations.  McDonalds, 3 (the mobile phone people), Waterstones...  And yes, I don't care if I am naming and shaming.  See, big companies like that don't give a shit about Normal People, so Kellie has sent her applications off, jumped through hoops and filled in countless questionnaires, only to hear precisely f$ck all.

Arseholes to them, then.

Anyways, on our travels Oot and Aboot, we keep our eyes peeled for openings.  Part time jobs are few and far between, especially something flexible around kids school times.  On Thursday, we were wandering through Basildon, when a shop that wasn't open yet (as in, still stocking, a new shop) had an advert for Full and Part Time staff. 

Of course, we forgot to bring her CVs with us.  So, Friday morning, her mum drops me Kellies stuff, and after taking the Peanut to school, I head into town and set up camp outside the shop.  Literally, set up camp.  Large latte, phone playing games, hands free kit to chatter away... And I sit.

And hour and a bit later, the shop is still not open, so I pop into the jewellers next door and ask if they know when it's opening.  Not a clue, the lady tells me, but - eyeing the envelope addressed to the manager - she offers to take the stuff and hand deliver it when they open.

I check with Her The Boss that this is OK, and getting the nod, leave the stuff with Jeweller Lady.  Friday morning.

Part of Kellie was pretty much expecting to hear nothing.  After all, that's what she's had plenty of so far (those arseholes...) and Sunday, in order to exhaust the kids to get them to bed early get some fresh air, we head over to the West Canvey Marsh, a new wildlife sanctuary near Kellie.  While we're wandering knee-deep in long grass and trying to find the source of the strange bird churruping and warbling away, her phone goes.

Can you come for an interview on Monday.  ie, the day after where we are now.  Her reply was very much hell yes, though not in those exact words.

Monday rolls around, and those on Twit-book will have seen I was as nervous as she was.  We decided to head into town early.  2pm interview, so we go into Basildon at... Hang on, 9.30am?!  So, we coffee'd, wandered, wandered, did stuff... All morning, she's asking me "What if they ask such-and-such" or "How should I answer This Question" and so on.  I was, as ever, very helpful and supportive.  Kellie asked me what she should answer if they say "What can you bring to the company?"  My answer of "Your Boobs" was apparently not helpful.  Go figure.  She opted for the "Well, I'll just be myself" and while my response of "Well, I wouldn't do that if I were you" was answered with a slap, I like to think I chilled her out a bit.

Interview o Clock rolls around, I wish her luck, Twit-book again, and sit back out where I camped on Friday.

Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes later, she comes out.  Exhilarated, shaking like an epileptic leaf, pale as anything, but alive.  She wasn't sure how well it went, but it was very relaxed, and very casual.  She um'ed and arr'ed a but, we went over her answers to questions and I did my best to chill her out.  And at no point did she give the answer of "My Boobs" for any questions.  Shame really.  Think that would have been amusing.

So, Monday night we chill out. Curry, TV, couple of JD & Cokes, to bed.  Tuesday morning, we're both full of cold and vegged out on the sofa, and Kellie is saying things like "They won't call" or "At least it was good practice and so on"  And she spends the day pottering about a bit.  Keeping busy, trying to ignore it.

Though, every time her phone rang, she was on it like a shot.

4.45pm her phone goes, and she answers.  Hello? Yes, speaking.  Oh Hi.  Yep.  Right.  Really?  Oh wow!  Tomorrow?  Yep I can do that!

And so on.

Despite the manager having a massive stack of applications and a shit-load of interviews to go through, it took 36hours or so to decide to hire Kellie.

She started on her induction today, and starts work proper tomorrow.

So congrats to my baby.  Well done gorgeous, you did well and I'm very proud of you.  F$ck all those other companies.

Now I am dating a Sales Assistant, that can afford to keep me in the life I have grown accustomed....  Fast food, fast cars, champagne...  OK OK, Salad and a Beer is fine.  And I'll make it ;)

And yes, sly readers will note, I've not mentioned the name of the shop.  And I'm not going to either.  And if you know, please don't either.  The last thing I think she needs is random people popping in and applauding her with the comment on "I read on Dans blog..."

If I am not allowed in there while she's working, then neither are you.

Yes, I got barred ;)  She thinks I might embarrass her... ME.  Sweet innocent me...