...of my work contract, that is. There's a bit of a logistical nightmare in the reasons they currently can't make me permanent, so I will just have to be content with an extra month for now. At least I know that my manager really wants to make it happen and will do anything he can.
As I see things, I nailed that job interview back in January, because the manager asked did I really want to opt for the temp role when two permanent roles were on offer? But in my wisdom I wanted to keep the "good" job and the supermarket would just be a bit of extra money on the side, so I rolled the dice and opted for the temporary contract so as not to clash with Job #1's days. Joke was on me though because the supermarket definitely turned out to be the "good job" and now that I've left Job #1 behind, I have to live with the consequences of my decisions. That's life.
It has its perks, I eat incredibly well (as I said to Son today as we ate chicken strips, cauliflower, broccoli, carrots and chocolate eclairs all provided from from our work). There's another rump steak in my freezer too which I can look forward to one day soon. And I've brought home another half-box of bananas plus about 15 pink lady apples, which my 22 housemates squirrelled away post haste.
Eh: I have ordered a pack of three cloth facemasks from eBay. I've been thinking about it for a while, even before this brouhaha began whereby Boris Will Make Us. I hesitate because elderly (read: deaf) people struggle to understand me through a plastic till surround already. I would be exempt from wearing one at work, but it's time I got with the programme and just put one on.
No comments:
Post a Comment