Oh dear, that didn't go too well. I arrived far too early in an attempt to beat the traffic and as a result I slid along the M40 like a hot knife through butter and had a whole bloody hour to kill. I did see three parrots up a tree whilst I sat in a pub car park which was quite something.
Anyway, found out the terms and conditions of the job which were monstrous and quite Dickensian. Had I accepted such a position I think I would of ended up paying them for the pleasure! What with 16 days of holiday, frowned upon half hour lunch breaks and a Stretch Armstrong style working week I'd heard enough. By 12 O'clock I'd packed away my glasses and slung my bag over my shoulder and made my excuses. Lola was off.
Another interview tomorrow, will the pleasure never end?
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