Interview, Tight Skirt, Job’s Mine, The Man’s a Berk


A woman I know told me she’d attended five job interviews in her life (she’s 39 now) and got them all except one. Of the four jobs she won the interviewers were men. Of the job she didn’t get the interviewer was a woman. She’s plucky enough to get by on brains and attitude but reckons most men are berks, can be played like a mandolin and tickled along into an agreeable position (she still hasn’t paid me back that £5,000 I loaned her.) One of the men even gave her a lift home after the interview and said the job was hers. I suppose she was right – when a woman’s drop dead gorgeous men’s brains will drop dead into their underpants and turn them into berks. Good on her.


I can remember when she started working at a police station and there were the names of police men/women in a row along a wall. Under about 50% of the names was the word “Dead”. She was shocked and assumed they’d been killed on duty but ‘dead’ referred to their radios and it was one of her first jobs to charge them up.


I didn’t get the first job I was interviewed for. I remember a man didn’t believe me when I said I could type 60 words a minutes and he tested me on an old-fashioned manual typewriter. As I left he said, “Can I offer you some advice – it’d be better not to chew gum at your next interview.” Oh well. I used to send lots of CV’s to local companies and under the “Hobbies” section put “studying people and sometimes following them.” None of the companies wrote back to me. I still do these hobbies and have a 100% success rate at following someone without them spotting me. Some CV’s used to come into the company I worked for and my eyes always went directly to the “Hobbies” section in the hope the applicants might be interesting. It was usually the yawn-creating “football” or “socialising” but one man re-enacted battles with painted soldiers.


So here’s an interview-related painting and over a year passed from starting it to finishing it (some of the photos were taken in a house I don’t have anymore.) I didn’t get stuck but just fed up though my resolve blared out “Finish it you loser! Anyone can start something.” So I did. Why the man’s interviewing the lady in semi-darkness is unknown – perhaps she’s applied for a job in a casino or nightclub.


I must be going colour-blind: why I initially painted the wall a urine/jaundice colour is unknown and I’m not sure why the carpet is blue. I’d no more have a blue carpet than I would eat anything blue (except a Smartie.) I don’t sleep very well on dark blue bedsheets and when I wear red shirts I get an itchy neck.


Glad the painting’s finished and consigned to the attic where only spiders and that mummified corpse can see it.