Saturday, 31 January 2009

I've got da job!!!

Awright! I'm no longer on the list of the unemployed, and I'll admit that feels really damn good. Admittedly it's not the most dignified of jobs, but frankly fuck it - I wanted to travel and this position takes me straight to a city I'd been planning on living in since 2003: Paris! (I ended up not going there because I had to choose between that and the Caribbeans, and with all due respect to the baguette-eating bleus, I wouldn't have given up that occasion for a shag-fest at the after-party for the Oscars, not if Scarlett Johansson had been there in a Tomb Raider costume looking markedly inebriated).

So - what is the job? Haha actually this is kind of the funny bit because I'm not allowed to tell you. Management doesn't want us to divulge, and while it's more likely for rattlesnakes to become the new symbol for the WWF over the panda than for them to hound me out on this blog, I'd still rather not take that risk. So no, I officially can't tell you what I'm going to work in.

Put this way it sounds like some kind of secret agent job when it's pretty much the opposite and it doesn't pay for shit (six months of it should barely cut it for my trip to India, which I want to complete before the end of 2009). Nonetheless I can tell you that it is very physical and should be lots of fun, and the working hours look great (all things considered it looks like only 3.5 effective working hours a day, five days a week, but the truth is probably going to be more dire).

And I didn't get it through an interview. I got it through an audition.

I woke up planning on getting to the audition locale about an hour in advance so I'd have time to rehearse my interview speeches, something which I started doing already at the tube station. I was so intently rehearsing in fact that I mistakenly took the overground and ended up going North halfway to Wembley before figuring out my mistake. I legged my way like a bastard out of the next station and caught the underground so as to make it to the interview only just in time.

So I got there. It looked pretty fun: there were approximately 400 people in a dance studio planned for less than half that number so it was a matter of elbowing my way through everyone, mostly girls. The first thing they did was measure us, like in a concentration camp. After that they taught us this sort of weird routine where we had to take four steps forward pretending to be cowboys, turn on ourselves acting like pirates, take three steps to a side and strike a 'villain' pose, bow down like Prince Charming and finally walk away waving goodbye and throwing kisses.

The first bit was no problem. I put on my best John Wayne expression and legged it forwards while mimicking a hat and a belt. The second bit presented more difficulties. How the fuck does a pirate 'turn on himself'? There isn't a common method for that that I know of. Maybe there's all sorts of Manuals for Pirates from the 18th Century with chapters detailing how to execute the perfect pirouette, but I'll be damned if I've ever heard of one. I sort of hunch my shoulder and lean downwards while throwing my arm out and making a grim face, trying to resemble one of those one-legged beggar characters you get in all renditions of Treasure Island. In fact I end up looking like Gollum.

Nonetheless they must have liked my performance (and my nerve - I battled my way through people to be in the front row and I'm pretty sure that benefitted me) because they burned out, like, half of the 400 people after that stage and I was still in it. I felt really quite ecstatic and I even thought of buying myself a chocolate bar, then decided against it in case I threw it up during the interview (nervousness thumps my stomach almost as badly as alcohol).

Then came the dance bit. I haven't done anything so hard since my Masters thesis. We walked into a studio where this dwarfish French woman, Frodo's french sister or something, set herself up in a pose and taught us a routine. Not only were the steps incredibly difficult to execute (they reminded me irresistibly of this shit, and if you think it's easy, then go on and try it), but Froda was executing them at such a speed I was tempted to walk up to her and ask if she had some ecstasy to deal.

Around me, all the best bailarinos were picking it up as easy as pie. For my own part, I was falling to pieces. To add to the challenge all the girls there were hot like molten lead - which in itself would be completely unproblematic except for my concentration skills flying out of the window, but they were all dressed up like fairy princesses and this gave way to so many perverse fantasies in my head that I was starting to see black spots before my eyes. I'm going to need some holy water to wash down the ecstasy pills.

So the dance routine went tits-up, but that much was expected and nonetheless they still kept me in. Loved my pretty face, obviously. After that there was the actual interview, where I'm guessing I must have kicked everyone's ass because I was the only one who was offered a contract despite not being able to dance. Evidently they thought my other skills made up for that, though it does have to be said that the contract without the dancing skills is much less fun (and more poorly paid), so I'm going to try and apply for a promotion once I'm there.

For the moment I'm just glad I have the job. And that I'm going to Paris. For the next six months (at least), France here I come!!!!

1 comment:

Mory said...

At what point will you be able to say what the job is?