So I was on the bus home just a little while ago, and my phone started buzzing. I pulled it out of my bag and looked at the display, which read:

Ex-BF

Well, it was actually his name, but, you know. For the blog's sake. But not my most recent ex, but the one before that. The first ex. Who I haven't actually seen or spoken to in, oh, FOUR YEARS?

So I whigged out a bit. I couldn't help it. I like to think that I am a grown-up who can handle these situations, but obviously I am a sissy girlpants. I just stared at the phone, and then it stopped buzzing. He left me voicemail.

I hopped off the bus and walked home, wondering what it could possibly be about. Perhaps something had happened in his life and for some reason, he wanted to talk to me about it? Maybe he just wondered where we both were at after a few years? I listened to the message:

"Hi. It's Ex-BF, you might remember me. I was just curious to see if you still had this number. I still have it in my phone, for some silly reason. Anyway, bye."

Thoughts:

• I never noticed what a major bogan accent he has.
• He doesn't sound friendly in the slightest.
• WTF kind of message is that?
• Curious if I still had the number, how about "curious about you, how you're doing" etc.
• For some silly reason? Way to compliment a girl.
• TWAT.
  

And I felt really annoyed.

This is following the text message I received earlier in the week from my ex (the other one) which annoyed the shit out of me, too.

So I can conclude the following:

• There is something going on with the alignment of the planets, or the lunar cycle, or something, that is making people from my past get in touch with me.
• I am very easily annoyed (possibly because of planet alignment or lunar cycle).
  

MEANWHILE!

The girl sitting in front of me on the bus had the most ridiculous hair that I have ever seen. I wanted to take a picture of it, but there were too many people around me and it would've looked suss. Instead, here is an incredibly lifelike drawing.


It was a big, fluffy, knotty birds nest. She was young and hip though, and you see, this is why I will never, ever be a fashionable person.

Hidey ho! And a very happy Australia Day, etc. etc. We have spent it lounging about, trying to frantically organise a trip which is now less than two weeks away, and having a barbeque on the deck (because it would be un-Austrayan not to). In response to the comments on the previous post, may I present:

A random selection of the worst resumes to be received by anyone, ever!

• People who don't live in Australia. Seriously, how are you going to come in for an interview if you live in Jerusalem? And I am all for equal opportunity, but closer than 14000km to your place of employment is kind of a requirement.
  
  
• The girl who was fresh from high school, and listed her qualities as follows:
  
  quick learner, good with customers, fast learner,
  
  Never mind the fact that she's left a comma at the end, suggesting she meant to put some other qualities down but couldn't be arsed. I'm more interested in the fact that she has put the same quality down twice, with a replacement synonymous adjective. I can only think that she must be trying to really stress the point.
  
  
• People whose cover letters read like Nigerian e-mail scams.
  
  Hello, Friend. I write you in respect, trust and humanity and honourably seek your assistance (etc.)
  
  Funnily enough, from somebody in Nigeria. Please refer to first point about living a bit too far away for the job.
  
  
• People who have managed to submit an application for the wrong job entirely. "I am very interested in this job with the Police Service." Eh? What?
  
  
• People who stress their religious beliefs in their resume. I don't want to know about the many times you have participated in church activities. And yes, I see that Reverend FancyPants is listed as your referee. And if your Employment Objective says something about following God's will then I am officially put off. Nobody wants a Bible basher in their team, really. Harsh but true.
  

That's all I can come up with right now. I seem to have already pushed the others out of my memory. I must've gone to my happy place to escape the pain.

And the best:

Actually, I'm not sure I can do a list of these, because the good ones all had the same qualities. Detailed, thorough responses to the criteria which showed that they hadn't just submitted a generic resume which had probably been submitted for a hundred others. Experience that was relevant, or wording that made it seem so. Correct spelling and grammar. And that's really about it.

Doesn't seem so exceptional, really.

On the subject of shitty, ridiculous government selection criteria, the great truth behind it is...

It is absolute bollocks. Buzzwords, jargon, bullshit, fluff. The people doing the shortlisting will most likely just have a sheet of paper with a few different boxes that they need to tick. If you mention the magic words, and apply them to your work experience, then you get a tick. Enough ticks equals an interview (and the bullshit of the interview is worth a blog post in itself). If you look at the key words, and write something which specifically mentions that skill in relation to your work experience, tick.

Of course, it then all comes down to who is doing the shortlisting. If it is an absolute twat, then good luck.

This weekend I have found myself putting these new found skills to use on an application of my own. I've decided to apply for a job within the same agency I currently work for, which will see me working in a more technical, system-based environment (no people management, no customers, hoorah!), but with a 10k paycut. Ouch. But hooray! But ouch.

The recruitment agent from the other day is also chasing me "to discuss options", so we will see what happens.

I think I seriously just need to go into business for myself and leave this bullshit behind.

There is an intensive recruitment process going on at work at the moment, and while my upcoming visit to Thailand means I won't be involved in any of the interviews, I am helping with the shortlisting. And seriously, What. A. Nightmare.

Now don't get me wrong, every now and then I will come across a resume that knocks my socks off, but 95% of them are absolute, utter shit. After a total of ten hours spent in a room (and I'm not finished yet), pulling my hair out, I can only conclude the following:

• People put in applications for jobs that they don't actually want
• People think that having a background at Just Hooters will land them a job in IT
• People are stupid
• People don't bother trying to make an impression, as though landing a job is just the luck of being randomly picked
• There is some grand plan in place by somebody who is trying to torture me through extreme time wastage
• The world would be a better place if somebody invented a Shit Filter to save me hours of my life
• Aforementioned filter could work by immediately deleting a resume which misspells the word "rapport"
• (Most recent variations are "rapors" and "repour")
  

Though I have really learnt a lesson about how to compose a good resume. I'm finding myself skipping over sections with a loud pffffft noise, when I've included those sections in my own resume in the past. It all becomes far more valid when I'm suddenly doing the picking.

Moving on!

BUS STOP GRAFFITI:


How gay is Callum? How gay is Callum? Is it a rhetorical question? There is no question mark at the end. Or should I ponder this, and give him a score out of ten, with 1 = a rugged, hairy bear-type labourer in the closet and 10 = Carson off that How to Look Good Naked show? I don't know who Callum is. Why have you given me a question which I can't possibly answer, mysterious bus stop vandal?


I love ale! What a peculiar thing to scratch into a chair. It is very different to the standard graffiti around the place, which mainly involves calling somebody a slut or is completely illegible. And what sort of young hooligan refers to his beverage of choice as "ale" these days? Unless this is New Thing that I'm yet to get the inside goss on. Behind the times, etc.

I'm at home today. I have the day off work, and I'm waiting for a delivery, which means that I basically have to sit at home until its delivered.

What a pity (!!!).

I have been watching the Special Features on the Spaced DVD box set I was given for Christmas. I have had a huge crush on Simon Pegg's character in that show ever since I saw it for the first time, and I think I have come up with a list of the features that make him such a dreamboat. Ahem:

• He has a beard.
• He works in a comic book shop.
• He is artistically talented.
• He is bursting with pop culture references.
• He rides a skateboard (what! You don't think it's cool to ride a skateboard well into your late twenties? Come on now.)
• He often wears button-up shirts over the top of long-sleeve t-shirts (don't ask me what it is, it just floats my boat).
  

Swoon.

This of course means that I am strangely attracted to men who act as though they are 15. I am unsure how Beardie should interpret this.

My Spaced memories are the only thing redeeming Simon Pegg in my mind at the moment, given that his latest movies are absolute bollocks.

Meanwhile! My latest musical obsession is Sia. How did I not know that she existed?

Meanwhile #2! Actually, I have no #2.

Oh, wait! I called a recruitment agent today. I thought that a day not spent at work would be a good opportunity to call, seeing as its my last day off before Thailand next month. However, he didn't answer, and I left a message which he hasn't yet returned. This could mean that a) he's really busy, or b) I sounded like a giggly 12 year old. Likely answer: b.

I feel like doing something creative, making a video or something. Damn this Youtube for inspiring me, but being too addictive for me to leave my desk and do anything about it.

I hate doing stuff on the weekend.

Give me a weekend where I sleep in and then sit around all day, playing with my computer and watching DVD's, please. And then I actually feel like I've had a break. Give me a weekend where I have Things To Do, and I'm back at work before I know it. And it blows.

On Saturday, I:

• Left the house at 9am for my piano lesson. My old teacher left before Christmas, so I have switched from being taught by a quirky boy, to a quirky girl. She has red hair and has met Tori Amos. I am learning Moonlight Sonata. All is well in piano land.
  
  
• As I was on the North side, I didn't fancy driving all the way back home, as I knew I would be heading out to the same area again that afternoon. So I went to a nearby shopping centre. I had my hair cut, so that it is pretty much the same, but with some wispy bits. I was a bit concerned the hairdresser seemed to focus on thinning out my hair as much as possible, but it seems to have turned out ok. But a little thin.
  
  
• Following this, I picked up a couple of things I needed, splurged on some fancy tea, and bought perfume. In other words, I spent a shitload. Next time I am wanting to kill a couple of hours, could somebody please remind me that going to a large building full of shops is not the best, or most cost-efficient idea.
  
  
• I had lunch. I ate sushi in my car, and spilt soy sauce all over my pants.
  
  
• With my brown splodgy pants, I went to a tupperware party. That is, I went to the first tupperware party of my life. I am not totally into parties where the discussion revolves around various types of containers, but I made an exception. The friend who was holding the party is quirky, and awesome, and I thought it was going to be a quirky and awesome tupperware party. ALAS. I sat down, completely clueless about what I was supposed to do and tried to join in with the closest conversation:
  
  Tupperware Lover #1: Ooh, there's so much I want to buy!
  TL#2: Oh, me too. Did you know they are discontinuing this line? [jabs finger at booklet]
  TL#1: [gasps] What? But it's so beautiful!
  TL#2: The Winter catalogue will be out soon, I can hardly wait!
  Me: [zones out for ten minutes]
  TL#1: So what are you going to buy, RAT?
  Me: [jolts back to consciousness] Oh, some plastic containers, I think.
  TL#1 & TL#2: [simultaneously laugh heartily at the tupperware noob]
  
  So I bought my obligatory plastic containers, and said my goodbyes, and vowed to never go to a tupperware party again. The tupperware lady asked me if I wanted to host my own party, to which I outwardly said "no, thanks" and inwardly screamed "HELL NO!"
  
  
• Went home for half an hour. Blabbed about my day so far to Beardie.
  
  
• Went to dinner with friends. Had Peking Duck, for the first time ever. Eating duck skin pancakes was quite interesting, and tasty, and I had a lovely time. Discussed such things as downloading John Cleese's voice for my GPS, and dodgy movie remakes.
  
  
• Went home, collapsed in a heap for a few minutes before going to bed.

I tried to make up for this day in the best way I could, by sitting around in fat pants all day on Sunday. You people with your busy social lives must be nuts.

Day One was hard. Way, way hard. I pity anyone who had to speak to me on that morning, for it would not have been a pleasurable experience. I was thankful of my corner desk with its high partitions as I slunk down, sipping at my water (damn this giving up caffeine bullshit) and hoping that nobody would speak to me. As the day wore on, it was at about midday that I suddenly started to feel human. And then I realised that what I meant by feeling 'human' was actually feeling as though I hadn't been on leave, at all.

Oh, the joys of being back at work.

Day Four has finished and I am officially back in work mode, with a calendar jam-packed with meetings and the stress creeping into my brain and my body.

Bollocks.

I have actually been giving quite a bit of thought to work over the Christmas break, and thinking about the prospect of working in this job for the next 12 months has made it pretty clear that it's not where I really want to be. I had my doubts about taking the job in the first place for this same reason, however I don't regret accepting it at all. It has forced me to grow some balls, and while they are still tiny, it is a vast improvement over my previous lack of balls. And being an official part of Management looks fancy on my resume.

But, yes, I don't want to stay here, so I have formed a bit of a mental plan. How I love mental plans. If Mental as Anything and Simple Plan formed a joint band, they would be called Mental Plan. And because my mind wanders like this, I am now watching Mental as Anything videos on Youtube. Whatever happened to Yahoo Serious?

Plan: keep working through until my three weeks leave in February. My calendar is already planned out for this time, with the meetings, and some training, and general shit. Then, I'm in Thailand until the beginning of March. And when I get back, I am going to start checking out my options. A former co-worker has given me the name of a recruitment agent who helped him land a job where he is earning a shitload more than me, for doing system work, so he is worth a shot too.

Before I turn this into yet another boring work ramble (oops, too late!) I will just say that the prospect of moving to another job shits me, when I feel so settled, but the idea of being a people manager who finds people stressful for years makes me unhappy. So. Whatever.


Meanwhile, Beardie is convinced that this shirt from Threadless makes me appear to be a psychopath, whereas I think that it is certifiably hi-larious. I may just have to wear it to work and find out.