Another moment that i was deeply mad at myself…
April 2007. Gray clouds of England announce the sad truth; spring is delayed.
Kelburne 12, Oxford, yes, that funny red brick corner house in town, where i used to get lost eighty eight times a day till i made it home.
One of my first interviews through telephone before being found suitable for a position in the company. All seems to go smooth until i ask the street mame where i am supposed to be present the next day.
And the gentle lady speaks,
“Between two towns ma’am.”
“Thanks madam, and the street name please?”
“Between two towns, ma’am.”
“Well, fine… Got it, but what about the precise name of the street?”
“I said ‘between two towns’ ma’am. ”
Slightly losing my patience,
“Ummm, alright, between which towns then?”
Suddenly there is a deep breath at the end of the line, i feel the temper and fire getting ready to attack.
“Look young lady, this is the name of the street! ‘Between two towns’ Is it clear enough?”
“Yeah, well…. but WHO THE FUCK ON EARTH WOULD NAME A STREET ‘BETWEEN TWO TOWNS’?!?!”
Oh me, my only hope, my chances…
The following three months i pedalled the town up and down to get a similar position in a similar company swearing even at the shadow of my bad luck.