A bad taste in the mouth

I got into the office at eight this morning for a call, and went all the way through until eight this evening, stopping only for another magnificently delicious mushroom pocket and a doughnut from the Starbucks beneath the office. Truly, if nothing else then this bad food and no exercise regime is going to give me one hot body.

Hot as in sweaty, that is.

At some point in the day I thought I'd drink some water, but that didn't turn out so well; as revenge, the cleaning lady had spiked the nozzles of the water cooler with detergent. Or something else had happened that made the glass of water taste exactly as though that had happened. Why would she do such a thing? Weren't the two of us friends? The way that we'd exchange glances across an empty office first thing in the morning, and then she'd empty my bin. Surely there was more between us than just a slightly toxic but very hygienic water softener?

Apparently not.

Later, I got a call from a recruiter in the UK. This was at the end of a trying day, where I'd had six different interviews scheduled for the job I'm trying to get (all, seemingly, at eight o'clock in the morning – figure that one out, Einstein), and then had the same interviews unscheduled, without any explanation of why. I'm not trying to be picky here, but perhaps just a little phrase like “something came up and we really can't do it today” rather than a man from HR who spells 'amended' with two Ms writing to me to say that it's been cancelled, and won't say why. It's the little things.

Anyway, I had a call from a recruiter. I like recruiters, because when they're foraging in the arid fields for new prospects, they're always cheerful and positive and happy to sing your praises. And she seemed to have the right idea about what I wanted – something dynamic in a new, fast-moving company. Until she mentioned who the job would be with – which turned out to be with a company I interviewed with about two years ago, for what sounded like exactly the same role.

It wouldn't have been so bad if the person that I had an interview with got angry at me for working for lastminute.com (turns out that sucking-all-the-money-up routine really did nark some people off), and I didn't get the job because I didn't have enough experience of start-ups. Er. Except for most of my working life at that point. Bah, humbug. At least it was a phone interview.

So I wasn't sure what to say to my newfound recruiter, who seemed terribly keen and helpful, and still positive that the role might be a good fit now, even if the same person who interviewed me was still there, and, from the last conversation we had, still angry.

But hope springs eternal, and it's a good sign to be worthy of being interviewed by the founder of a company, isn't it? If it's not, then I'll just stick to drinking bleach-flavoured water and then retching into my waste-paper basket.

Speaking of which, I don't think the cleaner has been so assiduous in emptying that bin recently. Maybe there really is something afoot.

At home at nine-thirty, incapable of thought or speech, I ate a cheese sandwich, went to have my shoulders massaged/wrenched from my body, then returned home to write this. A most productive day.