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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I got a phone call at work yesterday that made me so cross and annoyed that the only thing I could do to keep myself from buying a gun and shooting everyone in the world in the head was to fire off emails to my nearest and dearest complaining about the phone call I had just received. My nearest, and indeed my dearest, were all just as enraged as me. The language used to respond to my initial email was pleasingly risqué and robust. My nearest and dearest swear like troopers, and I’m very proud.

The phone call was from the recruitment agency which placed me in this job, and the recruitment agency which abandoned me to my fate in Camden last Friday without once ringing to check to see if everything was going to plan. They had lied to me about last week’s job, and really I should have realised at that point that this recruitment agency couldn’t be trusted.

Mrs Evil Recruitment Agent rang me yesterday to say that she had some “bad news” – the job she had originally told me would be lasting four weeks will now only be running for five days in total, but she’d hope to get me another job for next week. She then started telling me about a permanent position in a big firm in the City, working in an area of law I’ve never worked before for a pittance of a wage. I told her that the job didn’t really appeal to me, so then she was kind enough to go on a massive rant about how I should really be grateful for any work that comes along, that I was asking for too much money, that my CV was very “erratic”, that I wasn’t in a position to pick and choose and that I had to be “realistic” about my prospects.

For about the first ten seconds of her rant, my blood pressure went through the roof, and I got so angry I nearly responded to what she was saying. But then, I remembered. She was an Evil Recruitment Agent, forced to walk this earth as a retarded lackey, trying to place people in unsuitable jobs and keep all of their wages for her own evil purposes, which include taunting ducks and making baby seals cry. So instead of continuing to get angry, I started to say “Yes” and “Okay” and “That’s fine” over and over again at the most inappropriate moments, which I could tell was rapidly starting to annoy her.

After I got off the phone, I rang my other agency, who we’ll call the Might-Not-Be-Evil, But Who Really Can Be Sure Recruitment Agency. The MNBEBWRCBSR Agency have set me up with an interview at lunch time today. In a job that pays £1,000 more than the salary Mrs Evil Recruitment Agent told me I could never get.

That’ll learn her to mess with me.

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