Was on the way out for supper with Styx and Mrs Styx last night - incidentally, a journey that took in me catching up with a taxi driver I interviewed this time last year for an idea about a book, which was a bit bizarre - when the headhunter called. You know. The one I mentioned yesterday:
"DON'T freak out when you talk to the headhunter the night before the interview and she tells you that it is a completely different job from the one you have been preparing for."
I assumed she wanted to talk about how the interview had gone. But no. Wrong. She wanted to complain to me that one of the other candidates had complained to her that she too thought she had been badly briefed on the actual job she was interviewing for.
And while the headhunter was banging on down the phone at me, I was thinking 1) this is good news because the competition were as unprepared as I was 2) why are you calling me about this? - and finally - 3) oh, you are calling me to complain that we (the interviewees) were stuffed by you (the headhunter).
Hey, no-one died. There are more important things going on in the world. But I was really surprised that this headhunter had such a capacity to turn it all around in her own head and make it about her (poor old me) rather than her (I'm really sorry. I fucked up). I wish I could be as thick skinned and as selfish and misguided as that. I really do. I think I told her not to worry about it, and that it was not her fault, which is blatantly was, but I don't think she has a culpability button - well I know she doesn't after the call. It must be great to be like that, so misguided, so deeply about yourself and what you are worth in a vacuum, and quite so incapable of dealing with criticism and or your own incompetence. Mrs Styx assessed the call in a slightly more direct way: "You need another headhunter".
Which I guess I do. But I also hope I am not trying to blame this headhunter in case I don't get the job. I do care, and I do know it is about me. But in a different way, as in being responsible for my actions rather than accepting some higher fate whereby I can float around without responsibility for anything that is going on around me...
...Bollox, F8ck, Sh&t, W%nk, C*ck. As predicted by mrs househusbandnot recently, I'm turning into bolloxing life coach.
In unrelated news, (Mr) Styx made me listen to the new Yoko Ono album last night. It was quite good.
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6 comments:
Can I make an inane comment
Please do. I'm surprised you bothered to ask - although I was defending you last night to Styx because you wished me luck in my interview
Jolly good - when will you hear.... and get a new 'head hunter'
Can I ask, do you have your own head hunter - do they scalp you, for fees etc
and are head hunters bosses called head head hunters. And are their bosses bosses bosses etc right up until you can't fit anymore heads on the business card. So the head head head etc hunter has to carry an A4 pad with them to let people know how senior they are?
Is it not better to go the dole office
I can't believe you found a picture of me to put on your site - how very clever of you. Presume you know which I am.
But I am in mourning ...
With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very important person, which almost went unnoticed last week. Larry LaPrise, the man that wrote "The Hokey Kokey" died peacefully at the age of 93. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in. And then the trouble started.
Hey that isn't Mrs hhn in the red jumper in that shot is it?
Could be on my blurry screen, but not those shoes I think.
anonymous...you're right...it does look a bit like me! and thank you for noticing i would never wear such dreadful shoes.
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