February 27, 2004
Pancakes
As promised, some pictures from Tuesday night's event, accompanied by very little in the way of commentary. Above, we see Adam and myself; below, Adam and Antonio, Antonio and me.
Antonio and Adam were both Marching Boys in their time, and choreographer Kym was also present:
The only guests never to have done that dancing thing were Devan (front) and Wence (back):
And here's a wide shot, just to get everything into order in your minds:
On a completely unrelated note, I'm quietly seething about a knock-back email I got from one of those ignorant parasites charming professionals on whom my employment prospects most likely depend.
Now, this fellow had a perfectly good reason for declining my tentative application, which I am happy to accept in good grace. He could have left it at that, and we'd all be happy. Instead, being the customer-focused smoothie his profession demands, he chose to tack on a gratuitous, snotty swipe at my educational record in a manner that bore the unmistakeable whiff of "why are you bothering me, you little oik?"
Well.
It is true that my academic background is somewhat, um, wayward. On the other hand, at least I can -- on a good day and with a following wind -- construct a grammatical sentence from time to time, unlike this sneering cretin and most of his benighted ilk.
I suspect I would have slightly more regard for recruitment agents' capacity for intelligently matching job requirements to abilities if they'd ever managed to come up with an even vaguely acceptable candidate in all the years I've been using the clueless fuckers from the other side of the fence, but no. To the best of my recollection I have only once in the past 8 years filled a vacancy via an agency, and that person turned out to be probably the most incompetent, hostile and useless entity I've ever been foolish enough to try to get work out of.
Yet somehow these vultures, who basically do nothing but clog up the whole process of finding employment and charge prospective employers a crippling amount for the privilege, have managed to make themselves an inescapable part of the world I work in, such that the possibility of getting a job without them seems negligible; such that intemperate remarks about them on a public website explicitly mentioned on one's CV can probably guarantee lifelong unemployment.
