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i know my place..

Once again Iím lost for words, not clue what to write about, Iíve been reading jostmonkeys exploits in the world of job interviews.

When I used to work for The national Gas supplier as a gasman there used to be a HUGE country manor house which was used as a training facility for the ďmanagementĒ, This being the class ridden UK the work force was divided into three echelons.

MANAGEMENT = eat in a restaurant with waiters, wine on the table, smoked salmon etc ( I only ever set eyes on this once) park car in named space, even if not in work the space could not be used by anyone else.

STAFF = eat in a nice canteen with a choice of salads,hot meals, butties etc. park car in car park

MANUAL = me, eat in a room with a bench seat and table, buy chips from the chippy or bring butties from home. Kettle supplied to make tea. Park van on the road.

Anyway I digress, this big manor house in the country was where the managers were taught to interview job applicants, and they needed interview fodder. So I would apply for a pretend job and they would interview me, the brill thing about this was ALL the pressure was on the interviewer who was assessed on his performance (not her as the company didnít let women manage anything but the retail outlets).

This meant I could try on assorted personas, ranging from simpering wreck to full on bolshy bastard.

The result of all this fannying about was I honed my interview technique to a fine art and as a result have got every job I ever applied for since, cant do the job but boy do I give good interview.!

On a different track I am currently trying very hard not to bite my toe nails, as doing this results in me hobbling about with sore feet for several days.

Kathy kitchenlogic still thinks I have freaky feet, in fact when I lived alone I taught myself to take a match from a box, light it and light a spliff in my mouth all with my toes, so yup they are a little strange but I bet you cant play KER-PLUNK with yours!!!

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