The Thirty Eighth Blog Of Trig - Return From Barcelona

I got home from Barcelona and immediately started sorting out the insurance claim. I lost my new laptop, my prized and battered C902 with a wealth of photos and videos, and about £100, but the excess left me short the cash. 

I started looking for teaching work abroad, but found that many of my first-choice countries officially required a degree as well as the teaching qualification, so I looked for work in London and quickly found a job teaching in Edgware.

I had only three students, two Italian girls of 12 and 14, and a Greek lad of about 15. They did not know much English at all and I was given no guidance as to how to approach the three hour classes, so I observed another teacher in one lesson and then threw myself at it, but certainly didn't prepare for the lessons enough. I quickly learned that they hated writing exercises, so I tried to do more talking reading and listening, but the school did not have a great store of exercise books and no tape players. I would get to the end of my prepared lesson with half an hour to go and play word games until the end, or discuss the moon landing conspiracies, or holidays, or families, or anything else the talkative greek lad would frequently ask about. He wanted to speak English, and was not at all interested in writing or reading. His spoken English was certainly better than his written.

After a couple of lessons I developed a rapport with the students, and as we all became more comfortable the lessons became more enjoyable. However, they were only in England for a few weeks with family, and would be heading home soon, so I found myself having to look for another job to fall into.

I decided to go back into the City for a while to get some cash together so that I could go abroad and teach, so I put my CV together and posted it online. The next day I received a call from an agent and arranged to meet him at Liverpool Street Station for a coffee and an informal chat.

I met him, suited for the occasion, we grabbed a coffee and he told me about the role. It was at the London Stock Exchange, providing telephone support to users of stock pricing and order management systems. I told him that I had used the exact same pricing systems for three years at my previous role, which went down well, and he arranged me an interview the following week.

I bought a new suit and arrived early. The doors of the LSE are flanked by stocky security guards, solemn but fairly friendly, who ask you your business there if you do not produce a photo ID card. I told them that I had an interview and they directed me to the front desk.

In an indoor courtyard in front of me there was an enormous rotating digital planet Earth, and the walls had digital strips with global share prices moving round. A man with a device which I assumed was for detecting explosives asked me to take off my bag. His device 'sniffed' me, beeped its approval, and I was ushered forward to the front desk, where I was given a visitors badge and told to move through the barriers and take a seat.

G, the agent, had assured me that my interviewer D was a lovely lady. She came down after a while and introduced herself in a strong cockney accent, and took me upstairs. On the way to our interview room we passed glass cabinets with gold and silver trophy plates and other memorabilia which looked like they were worth a lot of money. 

The interview was fairly standard. She asked me about my experience, and why I left my last job, which I was dangerously honest about. She then asked me what I knew about the London Stock Exchange. I told her what I knew, but stumbled when she asked me more complex questions. She was very professional, and there was not much time for small-talk. At the end of the interview I was not too confident about how well I had done, having not answered all of her questions about London Stock Exchange business as confidently as I would have liked, but the call-back for a second interview showed promise.

I met with G the agent again, as he wanted to see how the first interview went and prepare me for the second. He congratulated me on my initial success and gave me great advice for the next step, although I was already confident in my interview skills. I like to think of it as simply meeting someone for a chat. I am interviewing them as much as they are me in my eyes. That perspective puts us on even ground, and makes both interviewer and interviewee more comfortable. Never tell them that though. Some people like their feeling of superiority. Bring them down to your level by relaxing, not worrying, and being friendly and confident, but of course don't tell them about your tactics, they will bounce back to their corporate personality in a flash. Find common ground. Talk about yourself in your professional and personal capacity, your loves and dislikes, but nothing too divisive or controversial, and if they sense your honesty then you are likely to find something that they can empathise with, and you can take a break from the interview and be human beings a while. Before you know it, if you're lucky, you've made a friend! Much better than gaining a boss.

The second interview was with the head of the business area I would be working in. He was in his late forties I guess, a very friendly guy, and it felt quite informal. We sat down in the lovely cafeteria area and chatted, mostly about my interests and hobbies, lingering on a commonality of snooker briefly, before discussing more my professional experience and aspirations. I can't really remember what else we talked about, but I remember leaving feeling good about my chances, and glad that so far my potential colleagues seemed nice. The only thing I was worried about at this point was that my high-frequency posting of alternative and controversial news and views on Twitter and Facebook might come under scrutiny. It seemed unlikely that it wouldn't at such a high-profile establishment.

As I left the Exchange I got a text message from Baz asking if I wanted to meet him in Camden for a couple of drinks. I gladly obliged. I met him outside the station, me looking like a city bod and him like a First Division football manager, and we headed to a bar. The drinks came thick and fast with the odd joint of pollen or skunk thrown in here and there, and the day disappeared. Before I knew it the sun had set and we were both pretty pissed and stoned, merrily pub-crawling our way around the bars of Camden. Barry soon suggested finding some drugs. I was hesitant, but agreed with conditions.
"Okay, but no coke. Get MDMA, but only if it's crystal. I'm not paying money for a bag of talcum powder, crystal is the only thing we can be half sure of - crystal ONLY!" I really stressed this point, "I won't pay for anything else."
Sure enough, Baz headed off and picked up in a flash off some dodgy street dealer, and within 5 minutes we were in another bar, and Baz was pouring semi-precious crystals into my open palm.
"Here you go pal," he said, "get that down ya. I'll see ya on the other side of the rainbow!"
"Cheers pal."
"Cheers buddy!"
Our glasses clinked together and the slightly yellow translucent crystals were washed down with rum and coke. 

More beer, more rum, and half an hour later we got impatient because we could not feel the MD, so we did the last of it between us. We waited, we waited...we probably waited only half as long as we thought because we were so pissed, and in my drunken impatience I subsequently decided prematurely that the MD was a dud.
"We got mugged off mate, this stuff is shit...Ah fuck it, let's crack on regardless!"
"Exactly bruv, we've had a great day, let's make it a great night!"

Now, here there is a bit of a gap. I think we were drinking in Wetherspoons by the canal when we came up off the MD hard. I think we headed to the Elephant after that. Barry says we were chatting with a bunch of big Russian lads, but I have no memory of it. I vaguely remember laughing with Baz about how we thought the MD was dud, but now we were off our pickles and entering a full ploughmans. It was in here that we met a girl called Sara and an Asian guy whose name I can't remember. Sara was a petite Camden lass, originally from the countryside somewhere, tattoos and leather jacket, cute and sexy, but a little rough around the edges. The Asian guy was fairly quiet, and seemed as though he had been hoping to get with Sara until she decided to tag along with us, and then he just tagged along too.

We had decided to go back to Barry's place in Edgware after the pubs shut. Here, my first clear memory for a while is of walking down Camden High Street, hallucinating severely. Each street light was showering glittery beams of radiance upon the pavement, and I had multiple vision that I could not for the life of me resolve through focus or concentration. Sara pointed out a guy across the road with a large dog, saying she always saw him about and that he seemed to be following her. I saw six identical men with six identical dogs walking down six identical streets. She asked me to put my arm around her and pretend like we were together. The memory gets hazy again here, but I remember the six dodgy guys and their dogs disappeared.

We got back to Barry's place somehow and came crashing in on his flatmate, a Somalian guy called Abdul, passed out with one of his friends. I was exhausted from all the drugs and alcohol and was unconscious pretty quickly, while the others cracked on with the beers and started chewing on some khat. I woke up a good few hours later, Tuesday morning, to a strange scene. Everyone was still up and awake, with Abdul's friend seemingly trying to convince Sara to take her clothes off. She was not interested in obliging. I sat up and said a sheepish hello to everyone. Hallucinations had ceased, but a tiredness was still lingering over me and a hangdown was lurking maliciously in the corner.
"What you guys been up to? How long have I been asleep?"
"You fell asleep as soon as we arrived! We've been chewing khat, drinking and smoking since!"
"Wow! I was pretty hammered. What's khat like?"
Abdul's friend chipped in, "it's great, have you never tried it? It's like cocaine, livens you up, but more naturally. Makes you really horny too!" 
He winked at Sara as he said this, and the unamused look on her face made me wonder what I had missed while I was asleep.
"Where's Barry?"
"Gone to get more beer."
"Okay."
I looked at Sara and when everyone else's attention was elsewhere mouthed the words: "What's been going on?"
She moved over to sit next to me on the futon and spoke under her breath.
"It's been a bit weird here to be honest. I wanted to leave but didn't want to go by myself. I was hoping you'd come back with me."
"Not a problem," I said, "I need to rest a bit longer though. I'm pretty hammered still."
I lay back down and she casually snuggled up to me. It felt good, but I was a little uncomfortable about the situation. It seemed like she had been getting hassle off this lad while I had been out. He was acting like a horny schoolboy, and as soon as he saw her cuddle up to me he started winking at me and motioning for me to get her on the bed. I simply shook my head and lay back to rest, and he lost interest temporarily. From Sara's affection I had a feeling she didn't just want me to walk her home.

I was very tired, half asleep, but Sara's hand feeling between my shirt buttons distracted me from drifting off. I looked at her and she looked at me, and we kissed. She had a gorgeous body, and my hands wandered down her back and over her bum for a gentle squeeze. She took a sharp breath in and I felt my cock go semi, but I did my best to take my mind elsewhere, stopped kissing her and lay back with her head on my chest. This was not the best time or place for intimacy.

Barry and Abdul came back with more beer soon after.
"Awww, havin' a cuddle you two?"
"Sharing body heat!" Sara said with an innocent smile.
We sat up and accepted a beer, and Barry started rolling up a joint.
"I'm gonna head off in a while mate."
Barry looked up from his spliff.
"Okay pal. You alright?"
"Yeah, fine. Bit tired! I'm gonna see Sara back safe to Camden and then I need some serious rest!"
I had been out for 36 hours and I was still in my interview suit.
"Ah you're gonna see Sara back are ya?" He said, looking at Sara with a wink.
"Yeah," I said with an ironic air of chivalry, "got to make sure the lady gets home safely!"
Sara's friend; who had faithfully accompanied her on this journey across North London with two random drink and drug-induced men out of what seemed to be a genuine concern for her safety, to end up in a flat with a khat chewing Somalian and his horny friend; did not seem too pleased about this turnout. Sara showed no sign of being interested in him romantically, and had not at all that I remember, so I did not feel guilty about the situation, although I did feel a little sorry for him.

The day wore on and I asked Sara if she was ready to go, but she wasn't ready to leave yet, which I found funny as she had been bugging me to leave a bit earlier. I soon got impatient as I was very tired, and told her that I was leaving; if she wanted me to take her back to Camden we were leaving now, so we left, her friend with us. As it turned out he lived in Edgware, so wouldn't be accompanying us on the train. As we walked towards the station he hung back behind us, apparently sulking. Sara convinced me to have a quick drink in a pub we passed, and we invited him to join us but he refused, so he said goodbye, with a little animosity. 

We decided to have a quick Jaegerbomb followed by a pint. The Red Bull in the Jaeger woke me up a little. We chatted and she told me that she had only tagged along with us because she liked me.
"But I was off my face on MD and pissed as a fart! I was tripping my balls off! Why would you want to chase me in that state?!"
"What can I say, I liked you. And I was pretty pissed myself." She said with a sheepish smile. I returned the smile and leaned forward to kiss her with an 'awww'.
"I'm going to be honest, I don't remember meeting you. I'd just come up off that MD and had been drinking for about 9 hours with Baz. The first I remember is walking through Camden with you and that guy with the dog following us."
"He is weird that guy. It can't be coincidence, I see him all the time, always walking the same direction as me."
"That is strange," I said, "I'd be careful. Especially with strange men you happen to meet in the pub!" We both laughed.

We left after we finished our drinks and jumped on the train. She sat on my lap and we kissed a while. When we stopped kissing I noticed a bunch of young lads checking her out.
"I think you have some fans over there." I whispered with a smile.

When we got to Camden she insisted on going for another drink. I didn't really want to drink any more; it had been a long night...well, a long day followed by a long night followed by another long day. I smiled at the realisation that 36 hours or so earlier I had been in an interview at the London Stock Exchange. We went for another drink when we got to Camden. 

When we left the pub we ran through the rain with my coat as shelter until we came to her flat. She explained to me that although she wanted me to come in, I had to leave before 11, as that was when her landlord came back. He was apparently an older homosexual guy, and was funny about her having friends over in the evening as he worked long hours. So in we went. 

It was a nice tidy flat, small but cosy. She took me straight into her room and said she was going for a shower, 'would I like to join her'? I said yes of course, and we both stripped naked, had a little kiss and a fondle, then headed into her shower. A bit of soapy romance ensued, and when we were both sufficiently aroused we quickly dried off and headed back into her bedroom, where we had amazing sex on her bed. When I pulled out afterwards I found that the ridiculously small condom she'd given me had broken.
"Don't worry, I'm on the pill." She said.
"Me too." I replied jokingly. 
We laughed, kissed, cuddled up naked on her bed and put her TV on, but before long we were both horny again. We didn't see the point of using a condom this time, since the last one had broken, so the sex was more natural, and subsequently even better than the first session. By the time we had finished we were both exhausted, and cuddled up on the verge of sleep on her bed. I kept myself from drifting off, knowing that I had to leave shortly, and suddenly remembered that I was supposed to be teaching one of my last classes at the English school the following day! 

We said goodbye with some passionate kissing and I took her number, promising to give her a call. I walked through the rain feeling pretty happy. Very tired, but happy. Unexpected sex will do that to you.

Over the next week I gave my last two lessons at the English school and said goodbye to the students. The Greek lad insisted on his mum taking a photo of us, even though I had only been teaching them a couple of weeks, which was nice. 

I got a call from my agent to say that I got the job at the London Stock Exchange, starting the following week. Before I could start I had to provide evidence of everything that I had on my CV, going back to my GCSEs at secondary school. This took some chasing; a couple of calls to previous jobs and my university. I asked one previous employer for a letter confirming the dates that I was employed there, and was told that they could only provide a reference to a new employer.
"I don't want a reference, I want a letter confirming the dates I worked there."
"I'm sorry sir, it's company policy."
"So any old person can call you up, say they want my personal details for reference, and you will provide them, but I myself cannot? It's not even a reference I want, just a letter confirming employment dates. Can I speak to the head of HR please."
She put me on hold and came back a minute or so later.
"We don't normally do this, but on this occasion we are willing to send a letter confirming the dates you worked at the company."
"Thank you very much, but as that data refers to me, I am entitled under the data protection act to have access to it. Please could you email a copy of the letter as soon as possible and forward me the original. Thank you for your help."

I sent off my references and started working at the London Stock Exchange the following week.

Thirty Eighth Blog Of Trig, signing off.