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I came home a little over three weeks ago and have so far had a very nice time, catching up with friends, going to the cinema (I understand the adverts!), drinking, dancing, eating ALL THE FOOD, and generally having a blast. But at the beginning of the week, I started to realise that it was time to start being sensible and get a job - what is it some of you smashing people call it? Adulting? That.
So yesterday I joined a temp agency that I worked for for years, a million years ago, and they set me up with an interview for this morning for a long-term temp role. I don’t want a permanent job as I plan on staying in London for about a year, doing my CELTA next year sometime, and moving to Poland next September. So I went for the interview this morning and I am very pleased to be able to report that I start on Tuesday. (Monday is a bank holiday here.)
I shall be a project administrator for a company building a new hospital. I will be based in the construction office, generally supporting all the engineers. This means working with a bunch of men, which means banter and good times. I am really looking forward to it, it must be said. It will be very different from teaching, but as I plan on teaching for the foreseeable future, working in admin again for a few months will be a nice break from kids!
And the job is down the road from my house, which never happens. Working 8.30a.m. - 4.30p.m. will be a bit of a shock to the system, as I’ve never been a morning person, coupled with the fact that I haven’t worked since May, and haven’t worked normal office hours for years now. Still, it really couldn’t have worked out better.
*I am job is a reference to Mrs Doubtfire. Robin Williams, before he gets hired by his ex-wife to look after his own children, calls her pretending to be a bunch of different people enquiring about the nanny position. That scene always made me laugh, and is my own teeny tiny tribute to the great man himself.
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"When we graduate, my friend and I want to start an organization to teach people in rural areas how to read. I was volunteering at a clinic last year, and I saw a child die of Cholera because the mother couldn’t remember the prescription instructions."
(Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo)