Possibly Friday afternoon.

But I have had a bit of a panic - what about my hair? I have never had an itnerview with such stupid colours on my hair - it’s fine when I am settled and people know me, but going for the interview I need to tame it down a little bit.

I might see if I can get the whole of Friday off, and have my hair done in the morning, then I can head on over for my interview in the afternoon.

That’s assuming they can fit me in then. I spoke with the agent, and he said end of this week, beginning of next. Beginning of next week will be difficult, as W is now off for 2 weeks, and B is off for the first 3 days of next week. Friday would be ideal - assuming I can get the day off. It helps that I have 8 days left to take (I already have agreement I can carry some over into next year). I already have most of Christmas and New Year booked off, then if I take all the holiday I am owed once I hand in my notice then it doesn’t leave an awful lot of actual working days.

Of course, I am assuming I will get the job, which is not a given.

However, the Head of Department has said he doesn’t need to interview me, so it will be HR plus someone else - not sure who. Not sure how rigorous an interview it will be (I once had an interview where we spent most of the time talking about cross stitch!).

I will try and get a ’skip level meeting’ with the big boss before I make any decision though. It’s a shame, because on the whole I like the company I work for now, and I like the people I work with. However, this paper is the biggest ‘personal development’ (which they are oh so keen to talk about) thing that has ever happened to me, and they don’t think I am worth £1500.

2 x bars of Green and Black’s ‘Cherry’ chocolate
2 x bars of Green and Black’s ‘Butterscotch’ chocolate
1 x big bar of Asda ‘Fruit and Nut’
1 x big bar of Asda ‘Wholenut’
1 x 10 pack of dark chocolate kit-kats
1 x 10 pack of cappucino kit-kats
2 x 26 packs of Walkers crisps
2 x tubs of Pringles
3 x packs of Asda kiddies sweets

Well, spoken to three people from two different agencies.

The first person rang me on Tuesday within hours of me sending off an old version of my CV in response to a job on the jobserve website. Only it turns out it wasn’t his job I applied for (I had applied for one in Welshtown), but the person who looks after my geographical area was on holiday, and this other guy wondered if I’d be interested in looking at jobs in London or the South East…..

He also came up with a ridiculous salary which he thought I was worth - lots of points for effort there, and hell, if he came up with a job paying me that much I’d definitely move to London.

The next night, his ‘friend’ rang me. When I mentioned I had spoken to his colleague, he didn’t sound too pleased. However, he sounded much much happier when we talked about the job in Welshtown, and he mentioned the new Head of Department who had recently taken over. I laughed. “Oh, I know P,” I said. “I used to work with him.”

So, my CV has gone off there, and I will be very surprised if I don’t at least get an interview. And the salary is unlikely to be off the scale as suggested by this guys colleague, but he did think he could get me another £5k. Not that I am moving because of the money, but hey, I’m not going to turn it down.

Then yesterday I spent about an hour on the phone to another agency. I don’t think this agency has any specific jobs, but she is sending my CV off to several companies.

And next week I am off to a seminar run by one of the consultancy firms well known for the software that I use. The consultancy firm who are often looking for people to work for them. People like me, who have passed their exam (as I did at the conference), and having had a paper accepted by the Global conference and been invited to speak then I am sure that will make me even more attractive.

I hope to have handed in my notice by Christmas.

Mister is so fed up. Last night he displayed just how fed up by leaving a huge stinking pile of poo on the landing.

This morning he showed even more how fed up he was by weeing in his box when I took him to the vets. It was very embarrassing, as I didn’t notice until he was up on the desk and I was signing the forms.

He has still been frightened of his tail, chewing on it and scratching at it. When I took him to the vets earlier in the week, he recommended taking it all off, rather than proceed to take it off a bit at a time. So this morning he went back in for his ‘tailectomy’.

When I picked him up tonight and brought him home, he was so cute. He didn’t come out of the box totally, because I was stroking him as he came out, he just stood there, rubbing his head in my hand, purring like mad because he was so glad to be home.

“You’re such a beautiful, brave boy,” I said. “Are you going to show me your tail?”

Eventually he came out.

Oh god. I cried. I cried.

My poor boy.

His whole back region has been shaved, and there is literally just a stump to his tail. I was expecting it to be bandaged (when they took the tip off, about 5 inches of his tail was completely bandaged) but all there is is the stump. And his stitches.

It was such a shock to see.

He seems fine though. He keeps turning around as if to try and get at his tail, but that is understandable, I am sure the pain killers are going to be wearing off. I have some tablets to give him twice a day - which is fine, I can manage those after the recent practice I have had. I also have to give him some medicine. They have given me a syringe, but that is going to be a lot of fun, trying to get that down him!

He is cuddling up a lot, which is also understandable - he is going to be feeling unwell and want reassuring, and also feeling cold with so little fur on his backside!

“He might not be very hungry, give him something light to eat,” they said.

They don’t know my boy!! He has polished off a whole tin of tuna, and I suspect he’s finished off Madam’s biscuits too, although I tried to get her to eat them all before she went back out.

He’s still got that ‘operation’ smell, which means Madam is keeping well away from him. Not that she goes close to him with his collar on anyway.

… there’s only one way to go.

Yesterday was such an exciting day. For the last few years I have wanted to go to a conference which is held in America. In fact this is the global equivalent of the conference I went to the other week. But for various reasons I haven’t been able to go.

So this year, W and I decided we would try a more direct tactic. We submitted a paper. We did this with the full agreement of our boss, and her boss too. Although there did seem to be a bit of a misunderstanding, which we did try and put right at the time (and when we send them links to the website, it’s not our fault they don’t actually read them is it?) that they thought it was just a website. We did go back to them and state that as well as the website, it was a 4 day conference, but I am still not convinced they fully understood.

Anyway, we submitted the paper at the end of September. It was number 4,200 odd. They only have 300 papers presented at the conference.

Yesterday we got invited along to present our paper at next year’s conference.

W and I were cockahoop!

We spent most of the day out of the office, delivering our own developed in-house training course on the software in question. This is something which will save the company 10’s of thousands of pounds per year, because they are sending people on this course, and they come back with little clue how to translate what they did into their worklife. To be fair it’s not their fault - nor the trainers really - since they are going to a generic course, and our company is quite specific about how is queries data.

So we have developed a course which covers all aspects of what they will need to know to do their job. They won’t be able to pass any exams (like I did, whoo hoo) with what we are teaching them, but they will be able to do their job quickly and efficiently, and hopefully ask my team fewer stupid questions along the way.

Currently, all new people are sent on two courses in the first 6 months or so. They cost almost £1,500 each. Excluding travel, accomodation and meals.

The cost for sending us will probably be in the region of £1,500 each, including flights, accomodation and meals.

We will teach them the bits from each course they need to know, in two days, on site. Very little cost to the company.

When I told my boss we had been invited to America to present our paper, but would need permission to go, he didn’t sound too hopeful.

So today I have crashed right down. I have done what I can in terms of pointing out what I am saving the company, how much external courses cost, how useful the UK conference was (leaving out the toyboy encounter, obviously), how it is relevant to my job, how it is a joining together of likeminded business people from around the world. I now just have to wait for my boss to discuss it with his boss.

But right now I think if they say we can’t go (and it is more than possible I reckon) I am going to walk. Talk about being unappreciated.

I might go and work for the software company, and come back as a consultant and charge them a damn sight more than £1,500!!!!!

It seems Bridget the Midget missed me and Young Guy disappearing together. He was waiting for me at coffee the next morning, and proceeded to follow me around with puppy dog eyes.

It was quite funny - as me and W were heading into the room for coffee, we could see him inside the door we were headed for. We were as coordinated as a flock of flying geese, as we spotted him at the same time, and swerved for the other door.

He saw us though, and took the short cut to head us off.

There has been no aftermath from W. I was expecting almost continuous piss-taking, but there has been nothing.

This is down to one of two reasons -

(a) she didn’t see, and so doesn’t know she can take the piss, or

(b) she is saving it up, lulling me into a false sense of security.

Obviously I can’t ask to see if it’s (b), in case it’s really (a).

She is having lots of fun ribbing me about Bridget at the moment, so I am just going along with that.

Wednesday and Thursday this week me and W headed off to Brummigum for a conference about some of the software we use. It was very nice to be out of the office for a couple of days, what with all the hours we have been putting in lately.

I know it’s very bullshitty, but it was also a chance to ‘network’, including meeting loads of people who work for the same company as us, but we never get chance to meet, let alone talk about what we do.

Wednesday afternoon, I was chatting to one of the consultants assigned to our company, and he asked if we were taking the exams, which normally cost about £100 to take, but for delegates were free.

“I looked into it,” I said, “but it’s based on the latest version of the software, and we are still on the old version, so I thought I’d wait until next year.”

“No, you should be okay, it’s not changed that much, I think you should go for it.”

W agreed.

“But I’m not prepared for it, and well, quite frankly I don’t want to take it and fail. Especially as I try and sell myself at work as a bit of an expert……”

“Ahh,” says the consultant, “but nobody will know you have even taken it, so if you fail you don’t tell anybody.”

So I signed up for it. But only then does the consultant tell me the expected pass rate for the exam is just 50%, and those taking the exam today had been a ‘good’ selection, with 9 out of 16 candidates passing. Oh well, too late now!

That evening was the ‘networking party’.

I can hoestly say I networked extremely hard on behalf of my party. Well, what else was I supposed to do, when it was Halloween, it was a proper hosted party with loads of free gifts (including hats - mine got thrown into the crowd because it was a ‘mans hat’ apparently - red shiny horns, toffee apples, candy floss, glow sticks, and lots and lots of flashing light plastic ‘ice cubes’ - I managed to blag 12 of those, 4 less than W - and most impressively W managed to get herself a pumpkin!)?

Free bar all night.

At one point, W went off to the loo, leaving me wearing my red horns, holding my ‘goody bag’, two beers, having a little bop to myself. Smiling at all the similarly attired people around me.

I catch the eye of this *very* short guy. He smiles, wolflike at me. I smile back, thinking “Hurry up, W, hurry up!”

I carry on bopping, trying to look in the other direction.

There appears someone at my arm.

“Oh, hello,” I said to the short man. “God, W, where *are* you?” I think.

Eventually W turns up, after me having to make small talk with this tiny man (eyes level with the ample cleavage I had on show……) very excited and telling me about the people she met in the toilet (as a lesbian, sounding so excited at a random encounter in a toilet sounded extremely dodgy, but she is such a geek, poor love, it was to do with work).

When I finally got a word in edgeways I hissed, “Please get me away from my new friend.”

She glanced over my shoulder, grabbed my arm and took me over the room. “How did you get the midget?” I shrugged, “Just luck I guess.” “Jesus, I know I take the piss out of you being a freak magnet, but I didn’t really believe it until now.”

Thus was spent the next two hours - me moving around the room, every 15 minutes or so finding this guy at my elbow, W coming to rescue me. It’s not even as if he had that much to say. Although one of his ‘chat up lines’ is up there in the very bad categoty. When talking to me at one point he stroked my arm. “You have really magnificent arms….” Huh? My arms? I have some good points mate, but my arms ain’t one of them! If he’d said tits, he’d at least have scored some points for honesty!

Then at some point I was talking to another, very nice man. We did seem to be getting on extremely well, as two people do at these drunken, away from work events…. Until someone walked past and spoke to him. Someone I knew. “Erm do you work for Smallish Bank?” I asked. “Yes - why?” “Hmmm, so do I…..” as there was a definite movement apart. Not a great idea.

Bridget then made a timely appearance, causing me to head off in the opposite direction.

Towards the end of the evening, I could see the cocktail bar appeared to be packing up. I *ran* over there (trust me, I don’t run very often). “Please tell me you haven’t stopped serving drinks?” The barman smiled at me, “I can give you a drink, love, but I need your help. Turn around.” I looked at him, puzzled. “Turn around, then lean back and put your head on the bar…” I touched the bar. “It’s all wet, you got something to dry it?” At this point someone appeared at me elbow. “Have they stopped serving?” he asked me. “Apparently not - if I lie back on the bar, he’s going to pour the drink in my mouth. Only trouble is the bar is wet.” This bloke sprang into life, waving over the barman. “We need a towel now, this lady needs a drink!”

I am such a classy bird! Limbo pose, head on bar, vodka and midori poured straight down my throat.

So classy, I get to spill it all down the sides of my mouth when I try to swallow.

“My turn,” shouts the guy.

He manages to do it without spilling.

“How did you manage that?”

“It’s all to do with the swallowing action,” he says.

“Damn, is that where I’ve been going wrong all these years?”

“Come on,” he says, “there is still beer served over there,” and we head off to the other side of the room.

3 hours later, in my room at the hotel, he said something that made me realise he might be a bit younger than I had first thought.

“Oh yeah, did I forget to mention? I was born in 1981.”

“F-U-C-K”, I said. “You are kidding me right?”

“Oh. Sorry, would it sound better if I said I was born in 1971? Will that make you feel better?”

I laughed. “Hell, even if you said that you’d still be younger than me.” His turn to look (ego-boostingly great) shocked. “I am 40.”

Blimey - these younger men have stamina!

Cut to the next afternoon, when I head to the exam. The exam I had discussed (well, we had to do some talking, at least for part of the time) with Young Guy, who had taken it the previous day, only he had failed. “It’s my own fault,” he said, “I didn’t prepare, I just turned up and try to wing it.” Ah. That would be what I was planning to do then.

But I suppose I did have 10 years of experience on him…..

I register for the exam, and there are people sitting around with their text books, doing some last minute cramming. I don’t even have a pen.

The exam is computer based, multiple choice. You get 2 hours to take it, although you can finish earlier if you wish.

Now, I have had about 1 hour sleep, I also consumed an incredible amount of alcohol the previous evening, I had done no prep work. I am whizzing through the questions at an incredible rate.

40 minutes later, and I get to the page saying, “If you click this button, then there is no turning back, this is your last chance to go and double check all your answers.” I click the button.

Agonising 30 second wait.

“Congratulations! The pass mark for this exam is 65%. You achieved 84%.”

Holy shit!

So, all in all I’d say it was a very productive 2 days. Spent the whole night shagging someone 14 years younger than me, then I pass the certified exam for an extremely marketable software with flying colours! Go me!