Okay, so I arrived at quarter to eight and was shown to the kitchen where a woman with the most rotted teeth I have ever seen asked me if I had my own clothes to wear. Overalls or something, for hygiene, with it being a kitchen. I didn't, so she showed me to a storeroom, where they kept spare pairs. I put one on and went back to the kitchen. The woman told me that I wasn't allowed to have the bottoms of my jeans showing under the bottom of the thing (which went down to around knee-level). So, she told me, I would have to take my jeans off. Well, call me crazy if you want, but I so wasn't up for the idea of working in just my knickers, especially since the overall thing was slightly see-through. So I told her no. She asked me why not. Well, being that it should have been obvious why not, I told her I just couldn't. She wasn't happy, but asked the boss, who said they could make an exception for one day. Well, great. But tomorrow I would have to wear a skirt. I mentally amended the work "skirt," replacing it with "shorts," and wondered whether they would have asked a man to show his legs. I'm guessing no.
The first thing Ii had to do was help serve the food to the residents. When they came into the dining room, I had to ask them what the wanted to eat, get it, give it to them, and then clear away when they had finished. It was actually quite enjoyable. Most of them wanted to chat to me, which meant them talking and me listening (and me not having to join in always makes conversations more pleasant for me!). It looks like I was doing something wrong though, because one of the people that worked there asked me whether I had ever done it before, and when I said no, she seemed quite upset. She started asking me why the agency had sent me. I had no idea, when they ring me up to offer me a job, I don't quiz them on why they chose me. She said that it wasn't fair to me to have given me the job. And it wasn't fair to them either. I wonder what I was doing that was so terrible, because I thought I did okay. And everyone's got to start somewhere, haven't they. I mean, she must have had a first day once too.
Next, I had to go in the kitchen and load the dishwasher. I did this for about an hour and a half, and then got a 15 minute break at half past ten. I read my book, had a cup of tea and realised that the things in my shoes actually work, because I was in hardly any pain. Normally after 2 1/2 hours, my back would be aching, the bottoms of my feet would hurt when I stood up and my legs would just be starting to join in too. I felt okay, comparatively. That didn't last all day though, bending over the sink to do watching up for another three hours wasn't exactly helpful. Half way through, another woman, (I don't think she was one of the ones from earlier) appeared and told me I would be finishing work at 2 instead of 6. This was great news to me, because I just wanted to sit down! (Wuss! Wuss!).
By about 11 I was hungry. I hadn't eaten during my break, just had a cup of tea. I had figured I'd get chance to have another break around dinner time. When I was told I'd be leaving at two, I still thought I would get another break. I didn't though. Now, when I don't eat I feel dizzy and groggy and I can't think straight, so it was probably a good thing that I didn't have to serve anyone dinner, I was just washing the pots some more. The woman in the kitchen though, she kept popping out for cigarette breaks, making herself cups of tea, making herself snacks, and never offering me anything. So my the time twenty past one came around, I was achy, exhausted, hungry, dizzy and in desperate need of a shower or bath to get rig of the smell of old food. The manager (who I think was one of the women that had told me I was leaving early) told me to go. I asked her if I was in at the same time tomorrow, she replied, "Yes, tomorrow definitely. I'm a bit angry with the agency for sending someone without experience though, it's not fair to you or us (that again!) but we will need you in the morning. We'll send you home early again though." Or words to that effect. I left. I got home and had a bath. My mum got home and wondered why I was there. I told her everything and she told me that 5 1/2 hours a day, for maybe only two days (because it seemed to me like the manager was hinting that she might get someone else the third day (it was Sunday, she wouldn't have been able to get in touch with the agency before I was already meant to be there on Monday)) meant I would be better off just with jobseekers, and I was essentially working or nothing, and would probably get less money that week than normal. Not quite, if I did the two days I would a few pounds more, but it hardly seemed worth it. She told me I should quit, so I did. Which is funny, kind of, because she is the one who is always telling me I should get a job, no matter what it is. So if she didn't think I should do it, it must have been bad!
So, I'm now unemployed again. I'm going to have to ring the job centre and tell them about the days work, then I'm going to go find-a-job-mad and ring every agency in town, looking of office work. Which at least involves sitting down and using a computer most of the day. Now that I can do. No rules banning trousers either!
For now though, I'm celebrating my unemployment by watching TV. Four episodes of Due South so far, I'm going to see how many I can watch. And then there's the episode of Traders that perian so kindly uploaded (thankyouthankyou) that I'll be watching in a bit, so I'm going to have a total do nothing day. Then, I'm going to get a job.