Shockingly, I was admitted to the fold of door-to-door energy contractors with little to no trouble.
Shockingly, I am moving to Bristol, oh, ah, let me see, when was it? Sunday. Yes. Sunday. No time like the present and all that.
Shockingly, my future involves knocking on doors to houses owned (hopefully) by people I do not know, and persuading them that
no, I am not selling electricity, but merely attempting to give them a discount.
Shocking, isn't it?
...and that was the end of today's tabloid blog. Broadsheet readers read on.
Living Arrangements
None to slight.
Knowledge of Job
Slight to firm.
Potential Earnings
Lots.
Thoughts
Well, I'm of out of Ventnor, Ruralsville, Isle of Wight, AKA Craggy Island, AKA Alcatraz UK, AKA home.
I'm off. Bristol beckons, and I will not be found wanting. I'm in this for the money. Solely the money. Not for the sake of leaving this bejewelled island, or getting out of my parents' hair, or for the kudos the job brings. I am in it for the money.
If even the great piles of promised cash do not compensate for the soul-scratching nature of this job, then I'll pack it in. Who knows, there may not be much soul-scratching to come. I hope not. I like the vague gleam my soul has at the moment.
It would seem to be an insane abandonment of all I've worked for, there're no entry qualifications for this job, there is no basic rate of pay, there is nothing even remotely academic involved. There is only the promise of money, there for the taking if I can do the thing they want me to do in order to get it.
I hope this blog doesn't testify to a decomposing set of morals or a declining ethical outlook over the coming weeks or months. For starters, I won't be blogging so much - I'll be working, and sleeping.
I'll miss my books, and my music. Above that I'll miss my family, despite the lengths they've driven me to over the past months. If they're not there, then I'm not me, however much space there is between us at any time. My Mum is a bit beside herself - my Sister moved in with her boyfriend last Friday, in preparation for commuting to Portsmouth University as of Monday. We're both moving out at once, and she has chronic Empty Nest Syndrome. My Sis has always been around when I've been away at university, and now we're both off and away. Invent the remote hug, someone.
All this to one side, I'm quite excited. It's something I've never done before, with potential financial reward with no limit. All those crappy growing-up and student jobs (DJing excepted) where it was infuriating that you got the same rate as the skiving, lazy and in all probability annoying bastards whilst you slogged your guts out...this time, I get paid for how I work, and if I can crack it, I'll work well.
Wish me luck, keep in touch, and well, be good.
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