All my plans this week came to an abrupt standstill thanks to a battery of germs. Or should I say a battering from germs. Common cold ones. Nothing too sinister, methinks. But heavy-duty enough to down me for three days. No voice. No temperature control. And no breathing capacity.
I expected as much, to be quite honest. Big move means intense activity means huge stress. Once it all ends, the immune system staggers to a halt. And the germs move in. They can always sense an advantage.
Still, being ill and surrounded by family is an obvious plus. Bread and drugs delivered to your door. Along with a steady stream of chocolate and DVDs. Who am I to complain?
But like all things, germs pass. And mine are on their way. If slowly. Still they do leave their mark. I had much planned for the end of the week particularly. Two interviews being of higher importance on my list.
One I happily conducted over the telephone. Another recruitment agency. Another very nice lady. Very accommodating. Very patient. In view of my inability to speak clearly. And possibly coherently.
The second was for a job I really wanted. Receptionist at a doctor's surgery. I have no experience for such a position. No direct experience at least. But I liked the idea of human contact. The notion of helping people. If only indirectly. I called to try and re-arrange the interview. My temperature was spiking and I was finding it difficult to manœuvre myself around the house, never mind drive my car across the island. But no show, no interview. Tant pis pour moi, as my French friends would say.
I comfort myself that I wouldn't want to work for people who would not proffer a second chance. Or prefer you to expose yourself and your germs to all. Even a doctor's surgery. But platitudes are unsatisfying.
I do however have three and possibly four interviews this week. Which is good. And somewhat exciting. Although probably more daunting. Such is a week in the life of an expat job-hunter. More photos will follow. I promise :0)
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