I had just sat down on the sofa this afternoon, sighing as I fished out half a soggy biscuit from my coffee when my mobile phone started vibrating. I gasped loudly and experienced a cold flash of panic in my chest. Flustered, I opened the 'junk drawer' and raked through the mish-mash of miscellaneous objects that can be found in there, pulling out a biro and notepad and took a deep breath before answering the call.
"Allô?" I answered, hoping that it was the call back I'd been waiting for all week long.
"Oui, bonjour. Is that Mademoiselle Ecossaise?" The disembodied female voice said on the other end.
I nodded, forgetting she couldn't see me. "Uh, yes!" I confirmed. I had a good feeling about this phonecall...It had to be good, because if there was a bad outcome I only had 6 squares of chocolate left in the cupboard to console me, and that certainly would not be enough.
The voice on the other end of the phone broke into my thoughts. "This is Madame Le Blanc. We met last week at the recruitment day?"
Here it was. The call I'd been sitting by the phone waiting impatiently for over the past four days.
I took a deep breath. Please say I've got the job, please say I've got the job, a little voice in my head pleaded pathetically.
"I'm very pleased to say..." the lady said far too slowly. Spit it out woman! "That you have been successful in your application to work with us." Oh thank feck! I tried hard not to jump from my seat and do a little dance of joy. Instead I clamped the phone between my shoulder and ear and did jazz hands.
Oh. My. God. "That's excellent!" I cried into the receiver hysterically. She laughed and I realised it was perhaps not quite the professional way to express one's happiness. Quickly, I regained my compusure and cleared my throat, embarrassed. "Uhh I mean, je suis très contente."
And I meant it. The job in question does not have a particularly high salary, it does not require much experience or a university degree and it's only a seasonal contract of 6 months, but frankly I'm delighted! It could be just an effect of the fact that right now finding a job in France when you're...well, me, is like trying to find a fart in a jacuzzi, but then again, perhaps I'm so happy because this is a job that I used to dream of having back when I was stuck in rainy Scotland, sick with tuberculosis, lying in a hospital bed. So I find it rather amusing that this is where I've ended up.
I will probably regret saying this when I've been working there a month and the novelty has worn off, but I can't wait to begin!
So what is the job, I hear you ask! Well here's a clue...it's in the tourism sector. Oh and don't forget where I live!
Just call me Marie Antoinette!
Thursday, March 05, 2009