The new job

I really wanted to find an apartment before I found a job, but it didn't work out like that. I'm still staying with my cousin, and I'm definitely ready to move out, so hopefully that will happen soon.

I sent my resume to an agency last Wednesday, and they called me pretty much immediately to tell me about a job interview taking place on Thursday, with a call centre, would I be interested? Well, not really but I said yes anyway because I figured it would be a good experience, and then I could see what interviews are like in the UK.

Well, they're not all that different from Canadian ones, honestly. I showed up, they started late and spent a lot of time making us sit around. I didn't try too hard, and at one point I almost walked out because the agency didn't tell me it was going to take several hours of my morning and all afternoon if I got the job. But, I stuck around [and made my cousin wait several hours for me because my cell phone was broken. Thanks Samsung!] through a random skills test and an interview. I was definitely shocked when I got the job, but pretty excited because by that point I had met several people my age, some who were also new to the country. Also, it's Monday to Friday and I intend to go away for many, many weekends.

At the very least, even if cold calling people is soul sucking, I'll have, hopefully, made some friends.

One girl lives close to me, so we went home together. Oh, and by close I mean she's three train stops away and it would probably take 40 minutes to walk to her house. That was fantastic, since I have zero skills when it comes to finding my way anywhere. London makes it as easy as possible. They list the stops, announce the stops, and have maps of the routes all over the place. And, yet, I still regularly fail to get where I need to go. Being this bad at travel is a gift.

I started my first full day on Friday, and it was a disaster in the beginning. It takes two hours to commute to the call centre from my cousin's house. It's like living in Pictou and commuting to Halifax every, single day. And then, you can't even sing in your car at the top of your lungs because no one else on the commute wants to hear your crap singing. Anyway, I take a train from this place that's about a 20 minute walk from the house, down hill in the mornings, up hill in the evening. The 'overground' [a regular train] takes me into Victoria Station and I catch the circle line to Liverpool Street and walk the rest of the way.

Yeah, except the circle line wasn't working. Some random worker directed me to a bus that was supposed to go directly to Liverpool Street. That's cool. It was 20 minutes late, the underground was still down, and the bus finally arrives.

Then, it moves at a crawl through the tourist hot spots. Lovely. I had an hour to get to my job at this point, and it took an hour to travel 7 kilometres. It should have taken 20 minutes to drive it, and it would have taken an hour and 15 minutes to walk it. That's how gross traffic is in London.

"According to the map, Westminster Abbey is by the red Honda.
It's been there for 30 years trying to get to Liverpool Street."

To make matters worse, the bus sign suddenly changes. It's no longer going to Liverpool Street, it's kicking us off somewhere else. I asked the Mr. Native Londoner next to me, and he said it was supposed to go to Liverpool Street. Well, the driver kicks everyone off at a spot that is definitely not Liverpool Street. I get off the bus with two Aussie backpackers, all of us are freaking out. Luckily, Mr. Native Londoner kept his head and checked the bus schedule and said another 11 should be coming soon.

I arrived at Liverpool Street at 10. I was supposed to be at my job, ready to train at 10. I still had to find the place, and the bus totally turned me around. I asked like 5 people for directions, turned down the wrong street. I ended up half crying while asking this other guy new to London directions, and he put the address in his iPhone and gave me the directions. Then, somehow, I actually walked by the building on the other side of the street.

That was about the point I fully burst into tears and wanted someone to kill me. It wasn't like I was going to make it home, anyway. Not with the underground broken. Then, I asked another guy for directions and he was all, "Oh, it's right here." He was super nice! Both him and Mr. New to London were absolutely fantastic. I think I sort of scared the final helper, though. Since he was all, "Aw, no, don't cry! You're right here! You made it, you found it! You're brilliant, really! You found where you need to be!" Anything to make the random Canadian stop bawling, right?

I rushed into the building, the security guard let me use the lift even though it's reserved for disabled people and deliveries, and I arrived at my job 20 minutes late... Where my trainer didn't even care that I was late. So, basically, I panicked for nothing.

The day got better though, after work I went out to Trafalgar Square to the Malaysia Festival with my new Welsh friend who is also new to the country!

<3 Jade


EDIT: Apparently on 'Monday-week' (a week from next Monday) the underground workers are going on strike. Efffff. Words can not express how annoying that is. No wonder everyone here has huge amounts of road rage.