Friday, August 13, 2010

Where is the PANIC button?

I need to slam my head on it.

I have been working with Old Chef for two years. There is really nothing left to say, we can work a very busy night and only exchange 3 words 'behind','hot' and 'plates?'.

Smoke breaks can be awkward, 15 minutes of silence, it's a long 15 minutes.

OO: Hey, your brother is a barrister, does he need a bitch for the summer?
OC: .....?
OO: You know a dog's body for three months over the summer break.
OC: My Brother is not a lawyer....
OO:...Oh

OC: But the owners BFF is a lawyer - go ask him.
OO: Will do.

So I toddled out to the owner.

OO: I am about to shmooze you.
BOSS: Smooze away.
OO: I am looking for some work in the legal industry, I hear your friend is a solicitor.
BOSS: Take a seat.

At this point he picks up the phone, and I start to feel sick. I have no resume, I have no clothes, while Boss man is a great guy (have been working with him for three years, could get away with blue murder but I don't because he is a good guy) but not always the most proactive person. At best I was just procrastiating avoiding more knife work, I honestly was just fishing in a puddle to kill a bit of time. They make small talk and an interview is set up for Tuesday.

SHIT, SHIT, SHIT.

I am excited, nervous, and stressed out now. Looks like no contracts work will be done this weekend.

Hoping I don't turn into a boiled egg on Tuesday - Obiter

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