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Description
What is the greatest force for change in ones life? Ambition? Necessity?
I think I have the answer: the need for more money. I stumbled upon this conclusion after arriving home after a day of job hunting. After dropping off my CV and taking out about half a dozen applications, the first thing my roommate says to me when I walk in is:
"Rent?"
Now, despite the fact I had spent most of the day either procrastinating or job hunting, in equal parts, the actual reason I was out there slipped my mind, i.e. money. I panicked a little; it had been a while since my last pay check, and even then, the rent was overdue.
"Shi-Shit Mike...I don't know if I have enough, can you get him to delay or something again?"
"Relax" Mike calmly spoke as he entered the hallway, leaning against the wall. "It's not due for another week, just reminding you so you don't forget, again."
I breathed a sigh of relief, clutching my chest. Admittedly, Mike did just save me another awkward conversation with the landlord by reminding me, but he did do it in a bit of a jerk way: That's him most of the time: an ass, but a nice ass...and no, not like that.
Pleased with himself, Mike turned and walked into the kitchen, shouting behind him: "I'll make us a coffee."
Given how much I had moved that day, I wouldn't turn down the offer of a drink; I know it was only walking, but if you found out how much I had actually walked, it would probably be a marathons worth.
Mike sat both the coffees down on the kitchens single table, pulling up a chair and leaning back in it. I joined him, after putting the stack of application forms in my room, and checking all my stuff was still there: Don't get me wrong, I trust Mike, but he's a guy, and I'm a...it's not sexist, it's just how our brains work, as a species.
"Soooo, did you go to the -real- job centre today? Or are you still avoiding it?" Mike took the first sip of his drink. I shook my head; anything else would have been lieing. Ok, confession time: I'm an actress, or trying to be, it's what I've studied for about 4 years now, full time, and another 7 years before that. In that combined decade, I learnt that it's crucial to know people in any kind of performing industry and get as much real experience as possible. So when I say I "spent the day looking for jobs, dropping off CVs and filling applications", it was applying for various acting roles in upcoming productions through an agency I was a part of.
"Well, you've got an hour before it closes...and it's only a couple of minutes down the road...don't give me that look Kate." He sighed, he meant well obviously, but I'll admit: I get passionate when it comes to acting, and when I get passionate, I can also get a bit bitchy too:
"Yeah, that's a great idea." I replied sarcastically, my sulk turning to a scowl: "I'll go find a job that'll meant I've pissed away a degree and a few years. How about, Mike, you put the laptop away, come down to the job centre with me, and we can get you working on a farm with the Amish people, doesn't that sound great!?" Oh, to quickly put that in context - Mike does freelance software engineering, computer stuff basically, and the Amish are technophobic.
"Fine..." I growled like the teenager I had regressed to at the point, leaving my coffee to go cold. At the very least, the fresh air would clear my head.
It only took ten minutes for me to calm down from my tantrum, but it took a little bit longer for my pride to come back: as shown with me texting Mike "Sorry xx". How very classy of me. In a strange twist of fate, I found myself outside the job centre after those ten minutes, and the nature of the events that happened afterwards makes me think I used the word 'strange' a bit too soon.
"Excuse me ma'am." An elderly man stated from behind me, naturally I moved out of the way, and he passed, entering the job centre holding a briefcase, and an umbrella. At first, I didn't think much of it, and made my way into the job centre, which was mostly empty by now. I made my way over to one of the computers set up with various online application forms and began surfing, the soul-draining experience only holding me for a few minutes before I began gazing around the centre looking at everything else. My gaze fell upon the old man I bumped into outside, who was talking to who I can only assume was some kind of receptionist. Now seeing him from a sideways perspective, as opposed to just his back, I noticed he was in a tailored three piece suit, and any conversation from a man in his seventies in a tailored suit was a conversation I just had to hear: "this'll be hilarious" I thought.
"I'm sorry sir." The receptionist began, reaching over the desk that separated the two of them with a piece of paper in her hand "We can't publish this advertisement here without all the details; it just doesn't fit company regulations."
"Well, I'm terribly sorry ma'am, but my employer wanted to put all the details, but felt she could not due to its nature..." the elderly man spoke in a refined upper-class English accent, the kind of accent that an actor would impersonate after hearing the word 'butler'.
"As I said sir, we can't put that in our listings until we have all the information." The receptionist replied with a single eyebrow raised, as she pondered the 'nature' of the job details left out of the job offer.
My eavesdropping was more informative than I first thought it would be, so I returned to looking at the job listings on the system, but I only looked, I definitely was not focusing on it.
Remember what I asked earlier? The greatest force for change in life? Well I have another contender: sheer curiosity. In that spirit, I got up from the desk and rushed off out of the job centre to chase the elderly man.
"Excuse me!" I shouted, as I caught him after just exiting the job centre.
He turned to me, and with a small tip of his head, asked: "Yes ma'am?"
"I couldn't help but overhear you in there...you have a job opening?" I asked nervously, it was strange talking to a man who seemed to act so old-fashioned without irony.
"Yes" He replied with a small inflection of joy in his voice "In domestic service, of sorts."
While domestic service was initially something I looked down upon, at the time, I just felt this urge. I had to return from the job centre with something, and just by meeting and talking to this man, I already felt like I knew so much more about the job than all the others, so I took a deep breath and went for it: "Could I see it?"
He handed the piece of paper to me, the one that had been given by the receptionist. It was a sort of advertisement, but more formal and written in the format for the job centres approval and review:

"Field of work: Domestic Service
Employer: S. Blackwim
30 hours per week
Wage: £320 / week
Addre-"

I stopped reading right there! £320 a week, I was sold right there and then.

Description
What is the greatest force for change in ones life? Ambition? Necessity?
I think I have the answer: the need for more money. I stumbled upon this conclusion after arriving home after a day of job hunting. After dropping off my CV and taking out about half a dozen applications, the first thing my roommate says to me when I walk in is:
"Rent?"
Now, despite the fact I had spent most of the day either procrastinating or job hunting, in equal parts, the actual reason I was out there slipped my mind, i.e. money. I panicked a little; it had been a while since my last pay check, and even then, the rent was overdue.
"Shi-Shit Mike...I don't know if I have enough, can you get him to delay or something again?"
"Relax" Mike calmly spoke as he entered the hallway, leaning against the wall. "It's not due for another week, just reminding you so you don't forget, again."
I breathed a sigh of relief, clutching my chest. Admittedly, Mike did just save me another awkward conversation with the landlord by reminding me, but he did do it in a bit of a jerk way: That's him most of the time: an ass, but a nice ass...and no, not like that.
Pleased with himself, Mike turned and walked into the kitchen, shouting behind him: "I'll make us a coffee."
Given how much I had moved that day, I wouldn't turn down the offer of a drink; I know it was only walking, but if you found out how much I had actually walked, it would probably be a marathons worth.
Mike sat both the coffees down on the kitchens single table, pulling up a chair and leaning back in it. I joined him, after putting the stack of application forms in my room, and checking all my stuff was still there: Don't get me wrong, I trust Mike, but he's a guy, and I'm a...it's not sexist, it's just how our brains work, as a species.
"Soooo, did you go to the -real- job centre today? Or are you still avoiding it?" Mike took the first sip of his drink. I shook my head; anything else would have been lieing. Ok, confession time: I'm an actress, or trying to be, it's what I've studied for about 4 years now, full time, and another 7 years before that. In that combined decade, I learnt that it's crucial to know people in any kind of performing industry and get as much real experience as possible. So when I say I "spent the day looking for jobs, dropping off CVs and filling applications", it was applying for various acting roles in upcoming productions through an agency I was a part of.
"Well, you've got an hour before it closes...and it's only a couple of minutes down the road...don't give me that look Kate." He sighed, he meant well obviously, but I'll admit: I get passionate when it comes to acting, and when I get passionate, I can also get a bit bitchy too:
"Yeah, that's a great idea." I replied sarcastically, my sulk turning to a scowl: "I'll go find a job that'll meant I've pissed away a degree and a few years. How about, Mike, you put the laptop away, come down to the job centre with me, and we can get you working on a farm with the Amish people, doesn't that sound great!?" Oh, to quickly put that in context - Mike does freelance software engineering, computer stuff basically, and the Amish are technophobic.
"Fine..." I growled like the teenager I had regressed to at the point, leaving my coffee to go cold. At the very least, the fresh air would clear my head.
It only took ten minutes for me to calm down from my tantrum, but it took a little bit longer for my pride to come back: as shown with me texting Mike "Sorry xx". How very classy of me. In a strange twist of fate, I found myself outside the job centre after those ten minutes, and the nature of the events that happened afterwards makes me think I used the word 'strange' a bit too soon.
"Excuse me ma'am." An elderly man stated from behind me, naturally I moved out of the way, and he passed, entering the job centre holding a briefcase, and an umbrella. At first, I didn't think much of it, and made my way into the job centre, which was mostly empty by now. I made my way over to one of the computers set up with various online application forms and began surfing, the soul-draining experience only holding me for a few minutes before I began gazing around the centre looking at everything else. My gaze fell upon the old man I bumped into outside, who was talking to who I can only assume was some kind of receptionist. Now seeing him from a sideways perspective, as opposed to just his back, I noticed he was in a tailored three piece suit, and any conversation from a man in his seventies in a tailored suit was a conversation I just had to hear: "this'll be hilarious" I thought.
"I'm sorry sir." The receptionist began, reaching over the desk that separated the two of them with a piece of paper in her hand "We can't publish this advertisement here without all the details; it just doesn't fit company regulations."
"Well, I'm terribly sorry ma'am, but my employer wanted to put all the details, but felt she could not due to its nature..." the elderly man spoke in a refined upper-class English accent, the kind of accent that an actor would impersonate after hearing the word 'butler'.
"As I said sir, we can't put that in our listings until we have all the information." The receptionist replied with a single eyebrow raised, as she pondered the 'nature' of the job details left out of the job offer.
My eavesdropping was more informative than I first thought it would be, so I returned to looking at the job listings on the system, but I only looked, I definitely was not focusing on it.
Remember what I asked earlier? The greatest force for change in life? Well I have another contender: sheer curiosity. In that spirit, I got up from the desk and rushed off out of the job centre to chase the elderly man.
"Excuse me!" I shouted, as I caught him after just exiting the job centre.
He turned to me, and with a small tip of his head, asked: "Yes ma'am?"
"I couldn't help but overhear you in there...you have a job opening?" I asked nervously, it was strange talking to a man who seemed to act so old-fashioned without irony.
"Yes" He replied with a small inflection of joy in his voice "In domestic service, of sorts."
While domestic service was initially something I looked down upon, at the time, I just felt this urge. I had to return from the job centre with something, and just by meeting and talking to this man, I already felt like I knew so much more about the job than all the others, so I took a deep breath and went for it: "Could I see it?"
He handed the piece of paper to me, the one that had been given by the receptionist. It was a sort of advertisement, but more formal and written in the format for the job centres approval and review:

"Field of work: Domestic Service
Employer: S. Blackwim
30 hours per week
Wage: £320 / week
Addre-"

I stopped reading right there! £320 a week, I was sold right there and then.