I wrapped Oliver’s football up this morning and Mark posted it off to him before he went up to the farm.

It had been an unproductive morning, largely because we had worked late and once the school run was done and the pots washed and the fire filled with logs and the dog emptied we went back to bed.

I always feel vaguely guilty about this even though it is an inevitable consequence of working shifts, because everybody knows that good people get up bright and early and work whilst whistling cheerily until sunset. Then they light a candle to undress and go peacefully to bed after eating some combination of pottage and bread and possibly some part of a hog if they are lucky. Only ne’er-do-wells are in bed at eleven o’clock in the morning and stagger around groaning and cursing if they are not, and they will get their Just Deserts one day, mark my words.

In the event we were stirred out of a solid slumber that had already managed to outlast the alarm by half an hour by the phone ringing, and it was the Caring Sharing, wanting to speak to me.

A nice-sounding girl on the other end said slowly and clearly something to the effect of: “Is that Name Of Candidate? This is Natalie and I would like to inform you that you have been selected to go forward for interview at Name Of Branch, would that be a possibility for you?”

I don’t know what she would have done if I had said something that couldn’t be covered by the remit of her script, like: “would it be acceptable for me to bring my insane grandmother with me, because she screams if I leave her alone in the car?” but I was too fuddled with sleep to think of anything anyway, and arranged an interview date and time which I promptly completely forgot, but fortunately they sent me a confirmation e-mail anyway, so I managed to crib it from that later, and it is not until next Tuesday, so I have got loads of time before I need to try and get my fingernails properly clean.

I was remarkably inspired by this entirely unexpected turn of events, although a bit dubious about my ability to work for a company that seemed so very prescriptive in its methods, however one of the very nice things about having a taxi is that I have still got a perfectly good job, even if I get sacked during the first fortnight, which I might. It wouldn’t be the first time, last time I was offered a job they sacked me before I actually started, after the Getting To Know You weekend and they had got to know me.

I went to sit on the taxi rank then, and felt very ambivalent about it all, because now I have got to put together all sorts of documents and paperwork and trail into Kendal for an interview, for a job about which I know precisely nothing. I still don’t know the hours, or the salary, or anything at all about any of it, except that I Googled the price of a funeral with them and if that is anything of a guideline the salary ought to be huge.

The letter said, untruthfully:

“Our strengths-based interview is all about understanding what energises and motivates you, as well as what you do well. The hiring manager will ask you a number of strengths-based interview questions and pose a number of scenarios to you, to understand your natural strengths. When the day comes for your strengths-based interview, stay calm and be yourself; we want to see your natural self throughout.”

I thought this was exceedingly unlikely, as well as fairly clumsily expressed, and decided that on the whole it would be more sensible for me to keep my natural self, with all its grubby motivations, well and truly under wraps. I am going to have to try and manufacture a reasonably employable persona for the day at least. My current employment is big on ejecting drunk abusive people and ignoring all hard-luck stories that might be leading up to the teller not having any money with which to fund their journey, and after twenty years of this activity, my natural self has become somewhat suspicious and unsympathetic towards the rest of the world.

However, it will provide an opportunity to try out the new jacket, which is exciting, and I can collect Mark’s suit trousers from the dry cleaner whilst I am in Kendal, so overall I think it is going to be a positive experience.

I attached the picture of the dog because it was nice and not because he made me think of interviews at funeral parlours. I couldn’t think of anything which would be a good picture to succinctly sum up the mood of a person going for an interview at a funeral parlour, so I put the dog on instead. I took it yesterday and think it is cheering and happy. He looks very like an animate teddy bear but actually is a lot grumpier.

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