Surreal and Ridiculous

I can’t help but feel that my meandering drivel about being fit as an oldie has been rewarded by the hefty dose of flu that has descended with all its accompanying effects-creeping goosebumpy skin, a sensation that my head will explode, an inability to breathe through the appropriate channels, a tendency to drift in and out of consciousness and a barking, rattling cough that originates from somewhere deep in the chest cavity and leaves me gasping and bent over with the soreness it produces. So much for the self-pity…

Throughout this ordeal I have been drifting in and out of consciousness in the company of the radio; falling asleep during one programme and waking to another adding to the general surrealism that goes along with fever.

Listening to reportage about the American presidential candidate’s campaigns convinces me that I am indeed suffering delirium from my soaring temperature. Here is the competition for what is arguably the most powerful position on the Earth and yet it comes across like some sort of demented rave presided over by a lunatic dictator. [I am referring, of course to Trump-Hillary’s demeanour stands in stark contrast to the distasteful conduct of her opposer, -if that is to be the case].

How disappointing it all is! When America voted Obama in it seemed to have come to its senses. From having chosen film stars buffoons and shysters to play on the international political stage they had finally selected someone with an academic background, someone articulate and intelligent, someone who was intelligent, engaging and humanitarian. The world became a safer place.

I don’t suppose anyone was more disillusioned than Obama himself when his ambitions were thwarted before they got out of the starting block. He was no match for the reactionary wealthy white of America who wished only to keep their guns, their private healthcare and their oil supply whilst obliterating anyone who looked as if they might threaten the American dream.

I wonder how the president felt when he got a second term? Ambivalent, at best I believe. And it isn’t hard to imagine what he thinks of the unseemly descent into the vitriolic rant that is Donald Trump’s current campaign. I have to own up to feeling like cheering when protesters managed to get his Chicago rally called off.

It looks like all hope rests with Hillary-who has at least one terrific advantage. She is a woman!

 

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How not to Succeed in the Job Market

                I was surprised when Offspring requested that I look through her application for temporary work. This is because I am the least qualified adult on the entire globe to be able to make a judgement on such matters, since my track record on achieving interviews, let alone the resulting positions, is virtually nil.

                I do remember my first, halting steps into the world of work. My first position, whilst still a schoolgirl was as a Saturday girl working as a shop assistant in a toy shop, obtained for me by a friend who was well established there. The manager, a small, bald, bespectacled man was at a loss to know what to do with us, as we were in a constant state of excited hilarity, creeping downstairs from our lunch breaks to wind things up and set them off across the floor, or executing hopeless addition and calculation of change, or attempting to distract each other whilst serving-all very puerile and immature [which we were]. Eventually I was sacked.

                I was able to obtain work easily as a college student, by being prepared to do [almost] anything at all, including cleaning the local hospital or packing soup powder, [a night shift, and more hilarity as we dysfunctional students were all put at machines together].

                When the serious task of snatching a teaching post came up I had to scrub up and set off looking eager, trudging first to Croydon, where I did my best to appear confident and succeeded only in provoking the interviewer into asking me if I ‘really wanted the job’. Then to County Hall, London, where a representative of the Inner London Education Authority’s only question was ‘are you staying on for a fourth year?’ When I responded in the negative he said, ‘Right, we’ll put you down for Lambeth’. Job done. I was employed.

                Later, as I moved through life and around the country my applications were never a resounding success and such interviews as I was able to get never went swimmingly.

                No, all the teaching jobs I ever had were got from doing them already. I would do a casual day or two then get asked to stay on, then on for the rest of the term, then would I consider becoming a permanent member of staff. When I needed to move on the entire process would begin again, with my useless applications and my boundless talent for failing at interviews. The only successful interview of the latter years was for a temporary job, for which I had been, not only the solitary applicant but the sole interviewee. Of course my self esteem might have been a little dented had I failed-and sure enough, once I was doing the job I was offered the permanency.

                So no, I am no expert on applications and interviews. But I comfort myself that I can’t be all that bad at working…can I?