So yes. The job interview on Tuesday, I arrived and filled out a form while I waited for the manager to see me. Yet I was greeted by two ladies who led me into a tiny, tiny back room and then bombarded me with questions. The questions like "give me an experience of team work" and "tell me what you did when a team member wasn't pulling their weight" were extrememely easy and I answered them well. Everything was going alright (except for the fact that both ladies were the snottiest bitches I had ever met) until I was told about all the rules I'd be following if I happened to get the job.

I'd have to wear my hair back.

This is something that I can't do. My hair isn't even down to my shoulders and they want me to tie it back for "security reasons".

I'd be wearing make up.

Ha! Right. Any one who knows me knows that I never wear make up. Ever. I mean I have at weddings 'n' other such things but I never put on make up before leaving the house. This is because A) I can't be bothered and B) I rub my eyes and my face constantly ruining make up instantly.

I'd be set a dollar amount of jewellery that I'd have to sell each day

Holy mother of god. Talk about applying the pressure, which I would most likely crumble under. But when asked how I would feel about it I said that it would make me more determined. A complete lie.

There are 8 non-negotiable rules that I'd have to follow when greeting and selling stuff to customers.

Blech.

I would on most occasions be doing 30 mins of unpaid work in the morning before opening time.

Argh!

I would need to obtain a police check.

This I really had no problem with, but it sounded a little scary.

I would have to wear the ugliest black (or navy) shoes imaginable, plus wear stockings

*sigh* I hate stockings.

I think the only thing that somewhat excited me about the job was the fact that I might be able to wear Christmas time t-shirts in the week before it. Yay for Christmas.

But basically I came home feeling absolutely miserable and hoped that I would not get the job. Hell, I even forgot that they were going to contact me, so the call this afternoon was a surprise.

"Hi, this is Karen from Zamels, is this Belinda?"

"Yes"

"How are you?"

"Good"

"Great. We'd like to offer you the Christmas position at our Eastlands store"

"Oh, great" (in my head: "FUCK")

Now an hour later I'm sitting here with my police report (which thankfully doesn't mention my 20 or so parking tickets) and my orientation day looming ahead.

I think I want to die. At least that would be a great way to get around the 'you must accept any job offered to you' rule that the government has forced upon me.

before / after