Tonight Reidski came up to see me and we ended up watching 'United 93' on a comfy sofa, in a lovely bar, whilst sharing a bottle of wine. If it was not such a traumatic film this could have been a perfect way to spend an evening.
I guess the 'Where were you on 9/11?' may be this generations 'Kennedy assasination moment'. I was at my then place of employment. I had a truly terrible job at the time. It was my first job post having kids. I knew it was something I could talk my way in to, it wasn't exactly intellectually taxing, and actually, it was what I needed to get my confidence back. Having been out the work force for several years looking after small children, my self esteem was at rock bottom, and I would not have dared apply for a half way decent job at the time.
Anyway, it was my lunch break and I was in the rest room with four others, one of whom was a former fire fighter. Sky News was on in the corner, and we realised it was showing one of the World Trade Towers in flames. The ex-fire fighter was in the middle of explaining to me just how impossible the task of fighting that fire would be for the fire fighters when the second plane rounded the tower and flew into the second Tower. Not one of the five of us who were watching believed the evidence of our own eyes. What a terrible and surreal afternoon that was. I remember trying to explain to one of my brainy colleagues what the Pentagon was as she had never heard of it. Quote from the same brainy colleague - "Do you think anyone might have been killed then?"
Thinking about that day led me to think about how I got that job. It was with a well known chain of gym's. Owing to me being relatively fit and well spoken (they wanted a receptionist), I thought I probably could muddle my way through an interview for a post offering to pay the minimum wage. My interview was on the same day as Comic Relief which for the benefit of overseas readers (all three of them) is a day aimed at raising money for 'Charidee' by doing 'zany' things. That morning I went in to help in the local school and they were doing lots of 'zany' things for Comic Relief including painting their faces green. I helped with the face painting that was an essential part of said 'zany' proceedings. I realised I had made myself a bit short of time before my interview so I shot home and got changed into as smart as I could manage clothes, and rushed off to the interview in something of a panic, arriving just in time to avoid being late.
The interview itself went OK. I felt the interviewer seemed somewhat sympathetic towards me, which I put down to my obvious nerves, and lack of interview experience over the child rearing years. She said she would let me know. I then returned to the school, dressed in my smartest clothes, to collect my children. Another mother looked at me hard. I thought at first she was wondering why exactly I was dressed so smartly to collect the kids from school but I was wrong. "Why?" she asked me, "have you got green face paint all over your cheek?" That was the moment I realised I had just attended a job interview with bright green face paint all over my face.
I got the job.
I can only assume they had a commitment with the local council to employ a certain quota of care in the community candidates.
And then from there I thought about how, crap though that job really and truly was, it did instill in me the values of good customer care, and that I was able to use that knowledge to talk myself into another job which indirectly led me to the job I do now and that I love so much.
Basically, my train of thought have been all over the place this evening but they end here with the thought of the train Reidksi is on right now on his way back to London, and how I wish we didn't have to spend so much time apart. But when I think like that I think that actually I am so very lucky as the chances against us ever meeting were so remote, and yet meet we did.
But now my thoughts turn to how bloody tired I am and how I must get to bed, but that reminds me that my curtain rail in my bedroom is broken and that I really must get round to getting that fixed, and before I know it my thoughts are spiralling out of control and I will NEVER be able to get to sleep what with all the stuff I have to think about.
Might as well give up on the idea of bed and go and visit my favourite bloggers then...............see you all soon.
Ludwig - *Memoir - Part 2* Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951) Trudging along the lane, I must have looked like a tortoise or perhaps a giant hermit crab - with my home ...
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