You see this?

I am happeh.

I have a big ole smile on mah face.

Do you want to know why I am happeh?

Because the L plates are gone!

The L Plates, bane of my existance for four damned years are GOOOONE!

And the best part is, I'm getting money, cheers and congratulations due to my incompetance.

That's right. All my cousins, friends, my brother, they all get a hug and a 'well done' or maybe a card. Because I had all the driving competance of a retarded monkey with turetts and failed seven tests, the damn party wagon is being rolled out.

Why can't this happen more often? If everyone gave me money for everything I was crap at, but passed anyway, I'd some rich motherfucker. School, college, half the levels on half the computer games I've ever played, I shit you not, I'd be rolling in it.

Anyway, the happy endeth not there. Oh no. I passed my test on wednesday, and I still haven't even got behind the wheel of the car yet, because instead, I fell straight out of the test centre, onto a train to Exeter, stopping off to swap trains in Bristol. Why you might ask? Because my parents hadn't thought 'oh, we're on holiday that week and we'd like you to come' when I booked my test smack bang in the middle of that week. So for the days running up to my test, I'd been home alone, eating far too much food (cooking for just one is so hard when you're used to doing it for three *looks innocent*) and swigging cider. Despite the looming driving test, there was still no small amount of happeh there.

So yeah, I managed to find my way around Bristol Parkway onto the right platform (by luck and process of elimination 'don't want to go that way, that way, or that way... so that one must be right') and with plenty of time to wait in the freezing cold (thanks to some delinquent little bastards in Birmingham doing a number on the signals) met up with my folks in Exeter, and headed to where they were staying for Nom and moar Cider.

After a fail night trying to sleep in a crappy bed that I was far too long for, and far too used to my own crappy matress to appreciate, I awoke to stuff myself on leftovers for breakfast, and the joyful news we were heading out to the Cornwall Birds of Prey centre.

I love me some birds of prey. Ain't nothing I like better than a ball of feathers with pointy bits that horribly murders and eats cute animals. And the place didn't disappoint. Bags of baby chicks were defeathered and torn up by pointy beaks for our amusement, while a dude who clearly loved his birds waxed lyrical about how much disdain he had for a lot of the more 'commericial' Birds of Prey breeders/centres out there, while putting on an admirably entertaining show considering the crazy wind.

And then there was the small matter of this:

This is my ugly, gormless mug, coupled to my ubiquitous Indiana Jones travelling hat (jammed on at a stupid angle against the wind >.<) with a beautiful Peregrine Falcon and Merlin crossbreed named 'Gimp'. I guess with the falconry hood, that's just a big old whack with the Irony bat.

Call me sad, but I can't tell you how honoured I felt gettting to carry this bird I'd only been watching a few minutes earlier zooming around, and after the handler had been talking about how, as a rule they avoid the bulk of the 'handling' birds go through from the public at other centres.

Lookit. Dad got to wave his Digital SLR around, and got some quite lucky shots


Gimp in flight. Any of you who've seen Falcons when they get going will know how lucky he was to get this one.



Gimp in..slightly less flight.
*nom*



A little American Peregrine. Noisy as hell, and cute as anything. To look at, he was like a little carnivorous Bluetit on Crack.



Insert inevitable Eagle shot.

Anyway, we racked up dozens of pics of these things, and I'm probably the only one that cares, so I'll stop now with another epic length FailJournal post. These things are getting damn addictive. It's much easier to just throw out a link than to have to explain to everybody what happened...

So yeah... I am happeh.

...and now I have to go back to ... real life.

...with the added caveat of trying not to wrap myself around a tree, or too many small children around my bonnet.

Weeee!

Okay, I never thought I'd ever make an emojournal post, but damnit I'm pissed off, have no-one else to scream at, and I need to get this out of my face before I Explode. And not in the good way.

What kind of monkeyshit company handles their recruitment by posting an advert that
A: Doesn't tell you the correct Hours they want you to work
B: Doesn't tell you that you will be working fixed shifts
C: Doesn't tell you what said shifts will be
D: Doesn't even tell you what the work will actually entail
E: Doesn't even tell you who they ARE

Now I'll try to be mature and not name any names, but their initials are LLOYDS BANK! Screw maturity. They've dicked me around and I'm going to scream about it until I run out of 2 the ranting gryphon quotes to surreptitiously insert into this thing.

So I'm looking for work. Anyone who ends up reading this log, that's right. Both of you, will know this. I've been unemployed since ditching University last may. That's right, the big 12 months is looming and I'm not happy about it. Now I will admit, I've not been trying hard. I didn't really apply for any jobs for the first three months. And didn't really do anything in November or December either. I always found something just on the horizon I'd "get a job after". But from the two dozen or so places I applied to between August and the middle of last month, I heard back from two people. Two interviews, one of which  I got purely on the strength of liking The Last Samurai because they shot at Tom Cruise with a Minigun, no jobs. This was back in September. Yes folks, between September last year, and the middle of March, I heard NOTHING. I may as well have been putting my applications in the bin myself and saving the postage costs.

So a few weeks back, I realise that I'm coming up to about six months on the Dole. (Please don't kill me all you angry taxpayers out there. I need the money for driving lessons, since the number of jobs in Bumfuck, South Wales, twinned incidentaly with the Ass end of Nowhere are unsurprisingly slim, and I need to be able spread my net a little). This, for those of you fortunate enough to never be in this position means I am contractually obliged to apply for *any* job I am physically capable of doing. That's right, Ronald MacDonald is lurking with his pants spread, and I'll end up having to suck on the Clown Cock for a little while. Is this normal? Do the better Employers just not take you seriously until you can write "sucked clown cock" on your CV (see what I mean about 2 quotes? >_>)

So anyway, this prospect does not appeal to me. So As of two weeks ago, I started throwing out CV's and covering letters to Any entry level desk-job vacancy within the same County as me. And a few days later, I get a phonecall, from a recruitment company based in Brigend (about an hours drive away) telling me they wanted to see me about a job I'd applied for. "oh, cool. I'll be there as early as I can tommorrow" says I. And thus, at 12pm the next day, cleaned, de-smelled and in my least-sucky shirt and pants, to Brigend I went, having had a prior appointment that morning. I'd got their postcode and Dad shoved it into the SatNav and off we went. We arrived in Brigend with 15 minutes to spare, then wasted said 15 minutes driving in a circle around the town center, because the stupid thing couldn't realise that the office I was looking for was in a Pedestrian zone. By the time we'd figured this out, I was already running late. This was only the beginning of my troubles.

Jumping out of the car, vague directions in hand, off I ran. Finding the right street by blind luck, I walked straight past the building I was looking for, since they had failed to tell me that it was on the second floor above a Solicitors office, and the only way to reckognise it is by some poorly printed sheets of A4 paper forming a banner in the office window. Wrestling with my crapped out mobile for a further five minutes, I managed to call to apologise for running late, but was told that the lady I wanted to see hadn't even come back from lunch yet "odd" I thought, but what the heck, at lest it doesn't matter that I'm late then. So the nice lady at reception talked me up to the place, and in I went.

I sat there filling in unnecessary paperwork (they already had my CV) for 20 minutes, being already 10 minutes late, before the person I was supposed to see turned up. It was then that I finally found out the full details of what I'd let myself in for. To her credit the lady at the Employment agency saw my surprise and apprehension, and sold the idea to me very well (if rather innaccurately in places). She explained to me the employment process, and it started off with a game of '20 questions' on the best ways to deal with situations relevant to working in a incoming call centre office. I filled it in, she sent if off to them along with my CV. All was good, by Monday I'd find out if they wanted me to do a Telephone interview. It turns out they did. I didn't really understand why they chose to do it this way. Maybe they just like to use the Agencies and the Vague advert to screen out the Morons or something?

Another thing anyone who knows me will know, is I *hate* calling people on the phone. I have no problem answering, I have no problem talking. It's just that first step of picking up the phone and calling. Now the catch to this phone interview, is that I had to call Them. So finally working up the guts the next day, call them I did. It all went well, and they invited me to attend the next section of the application procedure. A 'selection event' they called it. Okay, cool. An extended interview basically. I can live with that. Now here's where the Whiskey Tango Foxtrot hits the face. They said they would E-Mail me directions to where the event would take place. And an Application Form.

....An Application.... Form....

I've jumped through all these fucking hoops alrerady, and NOW they want me to fill in a FUCKING APPLICATION FORM? WHAT THE SHIT?

"Anyway, fine". I think, "I'll jump through your stupid hoops, it's not like I've got any better offers". So I wait for the form to come through.

..and I wait.

....and I wait.

......and I get an answerphone message on my crappy mobile, that after about 20 minutes of oumelling it senselessly I finally get to listen to. "We have not recieved your Online application form yet. Please complete it by midnight tonight, or turn up an hour early at the selection event so you can fill in a hard copy.". Wonderful. So I calll back, leavve a message, don't hear anything back. I call them again yesterday morning. It turns out they sent the email with all the information I needed to the damn Employment Agency, and the fuckers hadn't forwarded it on to me. Convincing the dude to send me a fresh copy so I could make sure I had all the information I needed beforehand, I then spent the majority of yesterday evening turning the house up and down because they wanted to know such analities as the Exact Dates I started and Finished College and University, as well as the names, addresses and telephone numbers of everywhere I've worked and studied in the last 5 years. So I get all that ready, take a shower to scrape the funk off myself, and get an uneasy nights rest.

This morning comes, and I'm up bright and early...like 3 hours before I'm even awake on a normal day. I was not happy, but Dad was driving, and was worried about traffic. We arrived 30 minutes early. I sat in the car and sweated for 25 of those minutes. I Hate sitting and waiting for things. Everyone does, but I'm really bad. I get the shakes, and my gut starts twisting.. it's bad. Even when mentally I'm not nervous. My body goes apeshit just in case. 

So anyway, you should always try to show up at these things a little early, so 5 minutes before my appointment, up I walk to the door. No sign of a reception desk... not good. A sign on the door "Nearest cashpoint and banking services..." ...and the address of the place I am supposed to be at. Lloyds have more than one office on the freaking estate. Sprinting back to the car we hurtled down the road to the right place, and I managed to get to the door with about a minute to spare.

Said door was one of these swipy-entry-security door things. So I hit the 'push here, somebody will be here for you shortly' button, and I waited.
...and waited
...and waited.
And wrang again
...and waited
...and waited.
I hope I'm not the only one noticing a pattern here.

All this time, there were people coming into work and asking "you've pushed the button right?" just inside the door, there was some kind of reception desk, with a bitch sitting there with a phone apparently surgically attatched to her Face, apparenlty studiously ignoring me. so for 20 minutes, in the drizzle, waiting for some motherfucker to let me in. Finally someone grabbed me on her way in, dumped me in the reception area, and went to look for the guy I was apparenltly there to see.

...he wasn't in yet.

Big Fucking Surprise.

So down to their 'common room' I went, while the lady went to have a look for the application form I had turned up early to fill in. The form i now only had about 40 minutes to fill in. The most rigorous, intrusive, anal fucking form I've ever filled in. So that little hoop jumped through, I just about finished as the guy I was supposed to see came in. My fairy story in the 'skills and experience' box was hardly War and Fucking peace, but I tried my best considering the time. So anyway, it's now the time everyone who Got their forms online to show up, and the three of us were bundled off into another room, where....they were handed application forms to fill in. Great. So now I get to sit here with my thumb up my ass while I wait for them to do it all, even though they've already done it. Great. So anyway, they get that done, the man says his piece, he dops the bombshell that training alone for the job will occupy Every weekday evening from 5pm until 10mp for EIGHT WEEKS. It's a part time job. That sucked majorly for me, but whatever, I need A job, and to get this far, I must stand a pretty good job of getting this one. So anyway, he todles off with my driving liscence and birth certificate to photocopy them, while we have to go through more "what would you do" callcentre exercises.

But wait, the Bombshells aren't through falling yet. The 'selection' event, we had been told would be made up of three parts, and take about 3 hours. We would have a tour of the facility, some Role Play exercises to test our ability to improvise without any training at all, and another interview... except the people who would be assessing our performance in the Roleplay/Interview, presumeably while we were given the tour WEREN'T FUCKING THERE!

THEY WERE AWAY ON A FUCKING COURSE!

Why is it the only places that seem interested in Hiring me couldn't organise a Piss up in a BREWERY?

By 11pm, 2 hours before we were supposed to be finished, we were kicked out (almost without our ID documents) and told we'd hear by phone sometime in the next 24 hours whether they wanted us to come to interview and actually find out whether we got the freaking job, since the 'assessors' wouldn't be back until about 3 or 4pm.

So I Walk the hour's trip from the industrial estate into town centre to hang out a bit, then when I get home, there's an E-mail waiting. Odd. It was from Lloyds, timestamped 1.32. That's right. Two hours before the people who were supposed to look at my application were due to return.

"Dear Samual

Thank you for attending a selection centre recently for the Telephone Banking advisor role

After careful consideration, I am sorry to have to tell you that your application has not been successful, as there were other applicants whose skills and experience more closely matched the positions’ requirements.

I would however like to take this opportunity to thank you for your interest and wish you every success in finding a suitable position in the near future. 

"Dear Samual

Thank you for attending a selection centre recently for the Telephone Banking advisor role

After careful consideration, I am sorry to have to tell you that your application has not been successful, as there were other applicants whose skills and experience more closely matched the positions’ requirements.

I would however like to take this opportunity to thank you for your interest and wish you every success in finding a suitable position in the near future. "

After jumping through all those fucking hoops, and. I'd like to think, impressing them at every step. It counts for nothing, and I get Fucked in the Ass by my inability to write a decent few paragraphs selling my "Skills and Experience" on an application form dumped on me at the Last Fucking Minute that. since you're already up to the interview stage should probably be a formality. And had it been any other day, I'd have got the chance to get the Interview I was denied by their pathetic organisation skills, and may even have got the job.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

People. Are. Shit.

All that time, money and stress wasted because of a single box on a fucking form.

What kind of Backwards Ass recruiting procedure goes through all that, Just to decide whether you're worth considering on the basis of an Application form everyone else apparently has the sense to ask for FIRST?

I'd love to go for some big finish, but I'm running out of steam, but I've gone on Way too fucking long and can't really think of any concise way to wrap this up.

...Romper Bomper Stomper Boo.