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A fucking interview

  Sat 27th May 2017

I like job interviews like the one I had on Wednesday, where you spend a meandering forty minutes or so talking about each others' pasts, and in which the word "fucking" is introduced by the interviewer within the first ten minutes.

It was at the golf club, and waiting in the members' lounge beforehand was to watch an almost laughably conformist subculture at what counts for play amongst wealthy men, who are conservative in both spellings, and who look long untroubled by anything like sex. I made a comment about the weather to two men stood next to me at the bar, one of whom inspected my clothes disdainfully without answering.

The club is based in one of the finest country houses in the area, a Grade I listed building completed c.1381 that latterly belonged to a linoleum magnate, before the golf club members clubbed together and found a sum in excess of twenty million pounds with which to purchase it. Vast picture windows look out over the golf course and the grounds. The boss seemed to like me and asked me if I fancied doing a trial shift the following day. This time, I made sure that I was going to be paid.

I'm not in much of a negotiating position at the moment, but I was greatly disappointed to have to cancel an assignation with Wendy. We'd planned to take a couple of bottles of fizz and various other intoxicants up to the castle grounds. How I was looking forward to seeing her reclined on the grass, looking so desirable in one of her summer dresses.

It was a quiet shift to begin with. Being the kind of person who knows psephologists, I recognised one of my customers. "Yes Eric, I've been working here for all of three hours. I thought I'd try to move myself into the higher echelons of Lancaster society. But I didn't get that job, so I'm working here instead," a remark which hope caused a ripple of Tory titters in the dining area.

Afterwards, I texted Wendy: "The golf club want me back! Infinitely better work [than at the hotel]. I've been folding napkins into roses, polishing flutes and serving in the two bars, under the friendly supervision of the 28-year-old bar manager who adds a most pleasing dimension to the phrase 'front of house'. Will be a really nice cycle ride as well. Now...drink! Wish it were with you of course but hope that will happen soon Xx."


Trina came round to help me shift my records last night, but I'm afraid to report that we ended up getting somewhat distracted from the task in hand. Wish we hadn't. It clouds the issue.


Got a viewing on Wednesday at another property guardianship house, a small terraced house in an undesirable area of Lancaster, but at £250/month and no bills, I'd be relatively well off. There's bound to be a great deal of competition for it though.

6 comments

Comment from: organ-grinder [Visitor]  

The golf club looks brilliant. I can’t think of anyone better to run the entire entity. You do play golf?

Sat 27th May 2017 @ 12:52
Comment from: [Member]

Thank you. And apart from working in one, I’ve never picked up a golf club in my life and don’t feel the lack.

I’m good at faking it, but golf — that would defeat even my dissimulatory abilities, but you can easily divert them onto other topics. I was talking on my trial shift to a member about how comfortable an Audi A5 was when a friend gave me a lift to London a year ago. I rarely set foot in a car and have never travelled in an Audi in my life.

I wonder how long it’ll be until I’m taken aside and someone privately confides – “well lad, you know that the word ‘golf’ really means ‘gentlemen only, ladies forbidden?’”

Sat 27th May 2017 @ 13:03
Comment from: Homer [Visitor]

Golf is in my DNA, but you wouldn’t know it from my fearful performance at the handle end of a club.

It sounds much more up your alley than pot-washing.

Sat 27th May 2017 @ 19:18

My Lord, why would you subject yourself to a golf club? Only as a last resort, please.

Or is it not as disagreeable as I imagine?

Mon 29th May 2017 @ 02:30
Comment from: [Member]

I’ll see you in the 19th hole Homer, and no, it’s fine. I’m going to charm the arse off them. I like that you can keep your own life to oneself. It’s early days but I like the way in which it allows me to practice my courteous but informal persona. I want to be liked, even at work, and if I learn the etiquette, and bend the manners just to the right degree, they will like me. I like these exquisite social dances, a mixture of manners and bullshitting.

And no fucking pot washing!

Mon 29th May 2017 @ 06:12
Comment from: kono [Visitor]

Your good karma is paying off… and distracted from moving records? we can only guess at what happened… but i have my hunches haha!

Wed 31st May 2017 @ 19:51


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