I got a call today!
And it wasn't Mary, nor Fiona, nor Sharon. Nor Mum. Nor, of course, John, we speak at least twice a day anyway so a call from him would be nothing unusual. Nor Mrs Hodgins to ask me to check on her cats again.
Oh, and it wasn't Rory the Wonderful either. Nor the phone company, looking for their money! Though they will probably ring any day now. If they can still get through, before they disconnect us.
No, it was an agency. Was this Amy O'Neill speaking, and had I sent in my CV in relation to a PA job in North Dublin? And, after a brief review of my CV, with my hopes rising and rising (while the pasta bubbles and boils and starts morphing into each other), so, was I fluent in French?
Ehhh, no.
And sadly, that was the end of the call. French had been a prerequisite. And she had gathered that Leaving Cert French actually meant native level fluency. Honestly. you think, in the current climate, they had their pick of agency applicants...
Ah well. What harm. At least I got a call. Onwards and upwards. I'd better pay that phone bill tomorrow. Only 4 days till our (John's!) pay day.
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