I wanna be your dog
Next hurdle. Waiting. I'm used to waiting these days. You have to wait for everything in this city. Buses, ATMS, Banks, Supermarkets, on the phone. The list goes on and on.
I look around at the other people waiting. Theres some Iranian guys, a pregnant lady, some old frail people, and some blinged up chavs. Plus me, the semi normal guy. I spy the lady next to me filling in her form. I can't help reading it. She's old, maybe in her 60's, and it turns out she hasn't enough money to buy food or any shopping. It's fucked. I won't go into what I was thinking, it's just too depressing.
Anyway, my name gets finally called. I get this guy. Let's call him "fuckwit." Don't get me wrong, this guy is trying to help, and I'm grateful, but he is such a fuckwit. He's the type of guy who tries to be your best friend, has his pants up way too high, a check shirt done all the way up, amd a make poverty history bollocks wristband on. First thing, it's the "are you Australian Routine." Then moved onto to South African, then Holland?? and then I told him New Zealand. Then he gleefully told me his wife is a Kiwi. Me thinking: Fuck's sake mate, your wife is a Kiwi and you can't tell my accent. You guys must have a great relationship. Wow. She must be sooo interesting, just like yoooou. My interview went on for 40 minutes. When he found out about my redundancy and the big wedge I recieved, he actually said "fucking hell, that's good." He then blushed and said "I meant flippin 'eck that's good." I feel myself slipping back into dog mode and am looking at his face thinking "could I bite his nose off in one cleanly? How much blood would come gushing out? Would it gush? After what seemed like an eternity, I get told to sit back down and wait for my name to get called for the second part of my interview. Oh joy.
Nearly an hour goes by while I've been watching the workers mill around the office, asking each other questions, security guards texting all the time, a very waspish old lady who sees a co-worker who must have come in late. Most of the people who work here are afro-carribean. I have no problem wih that, but the old waspish lady is white. So is the receptionist. The old lady who must be the boss tells off the late comer to work. She walks away like she has told off an animal. She then walks directly to the receptionist and starts talking to her, having a right old natter. I feel dog mode coming on. How cool would it be if I just ripped out that turkey neck of that old bitch, and all the blood squirted all over the receptionist. I would then spit out the gristle on the security guard and run like hell.
Back to reality. I get called up again and go through 40 more minutes of drivel. Couldn't find any jobs. I know this, that's why I'm here fuckwit No.2. I end up telling this lady about 5 times that I'll be probably working in the New Year, and that at Xmas my industry slows down. She tries to get me a job painting real estate signs. She's not getting the message. To make matters worse. She can't type or spell. This makes the interview go even slower. Thankfully my beastly insticts are kept at bay and eventually my time is over. It's been three hours. I walk out the place, the same security guards slouched over the same lecturns. I think, how cool would it be just go and piss on their legs. That would move them I bet.
I walk out and towards the main road. What a ordeal, what a place. However this didn't prepare me for what I saw next. Inbetween two cars parked in a loading bay, I saw a woman, who I assumed to be homeless, a drunk and or an addict of some kind squatting down and having a shit. Fuck me, I've seen it all. Maybe we are just dogs? I quickly walked away, my mind reeling. That was the proverbial icing on the cake.
Worst thing is I have to go back tomorrow, because I didn't have all the right paperwork. Typical.