Saturday, March 18, 2006
Lesson # 7: EVERYONE in the film industry is a feckless wanker.
So, with an air of tedious inevitability, the job went south. Here's the whole sorry saga (don't worry- there's a happy ending)- and apologies to ma sistas who've heard this already- skip straight to the next lessson.
In spite not even being able to pronounce oireachtas a few weeks ago, the good folk at Sarah's work saw fit to offer me the job. I told them thanks, guys, but I've been offered a full time post elsewhere, so I regret I'll have to decline. (the PAI job was for 2 days a week).
A few days later, Don (the bloke who interviewed me) phoned again to say that they were willing to find more work for me so they could offer me a full time post after all, if that changed anything. This put a different face on things since Nuala, who had promised to get me a contract sorted out and call me in to sign it this week- had yet to do so. I didn't feel it wise to turn down one very solid, generous job offer based on a comparitively flimsy verbal agreement elsewhere, even a job I found so very appealing . I asked if I could have a day to think, and they obliged. So i got on the phone to nuala to find out how my contract was coming along- all I wanted was another verbal reassurance that yes- I had got it, exactly as agreed.
But instead something very odd happened.
Rather than just saying 'yes' she mumbled something about being on reccy, and very busy and to call her later. So later came and I called back- same story- call at half 6. I called PAI and asked them if I could have another day to think about it, and again they obliged, and at half 6 Nuala (shock) was again too busy to say one three letter word. Eventually, she got back into the office at 7.30, I called again and all she seemed to want to talk about was how wet and miserable it was outside. 'Thats all very well' I said 'but can I please have some sort of assurance about the job you offered me?'. She starts umming and ahhing and rambling about how it would only be a few days here and there- 'but I thought there was eight weeks of shooting to do, which would be very busy and require as much help as possible?' I asked, trying not to sound too pathetic. Apparently not. When she asked me in the interview how much notice UCD required before I could leave I assumed (not unreasonably, I thought) that she meant for me to hand in my notice. Seems not- she figured I could carry on working at ucd and still pop in and out to the film company as required- which was plainly absurd. 'This is not the way you described the job to me at all' I said 'Yeah' she replied 'sorry' and then started muttering on about how busy and disorganised everything is (I wanted to scream down the phone at her FUCKING GET ME A CONTRACT AND LET ME HELP YOU THEN YOU STUPID FUCKING WOMAN! but I didn't) and the conversation finished with her asking me if I could try calling her again at lunchtime tomorrow to see if she had got anything sorted. I had guarenteed PAI that I would have their answer first thing in the morning, so that wasn't even an option, but I'm sure that even if it was she'd still not have dislodged her finger from her hole and done anything about the situation. So I called the gentlefolk at PAI and told them I'd be delighted to accept their kind offer. I start monday week.
Now I was initially furious about the whole thing, and broke my lented promise not to swear several dozen times, but after I cooled I reached the realisation that there are after all worse problems to have. The PAI job is still one that I'd have gnawed my own feet off for a month ago- it is journalism, so I'll have industry experience even if it isn't in my area of expertise, and I'll be working with sarah, who's a good laff. In fact the only real crappy part is that I'd told EVERYONE that I'd got the job, when I knew in my heart that nothing had been set in stone. Dad, I believe has told half the country that I was now a director or something, so now he has to suffer the indignity of settling for a journalist (maybe he could bump me up to editor of the irish times or something).
Life, whatever else you can say about it, isn't dull in dirty dublin town.
Anyway- I was surprised to find that I was quite sad at the prospect of leaving UCD- I was really starting to enjoy it, and I was even more surprised to find that quite a few people (many of whom I don't even know) have said they'll be sorry to see me go- which is nice to hear.
So we went to see David O'Docherty in Whelans last week at Brenda's recommendation. A very very funny man- mostly standup, with a fair deal of comedy songs a la Bill Bailey, but possibly funnier (hard as that concept is to grasp). It'd been so long since I'd seen any stand up live, and it was nice to find that a totally unknown quantity could turn out to be so good. Keep an eye out for him, folks, he's coming up.
The best (and only) suggestions for the 'best Gareth's in history' poll I hosted here a few weeks ago came from Jonno who votes for Gareth Hunt and Gareth 'Gaz' Top. Still, the contest was fixed, and the winner is obviously Gareth Finney of Fast Lady and The Carter Brothers fame.
New poll: Worst song lyrics in history.
Anyhoo- time to cook.
Aido 'I enjoy the mystique of a good orange woman' Potato.
So, with an air of tedious inevitability, the job went south. Here's the whole sorry saga (don't worry- there's a happy ending)- and apologies to ma sistas who've heard this already- skip straight to the next lessson.
In spite not even being able to pronounce oireachtas a few weeks ago, the good folk at Sarah's work saw fit to offer me the job. I told them thanks, guys, but I've been offered a full time post elsewhere, so I regret I'll have to decline. (the PAI job was for 2 days a week).
A few days later, Don (the bloke who interviewed me) phoned again to say that they were willing to find more work for me so they could offer me a full time post after all, if that changed anything. This put a different face on things since Nuala, who had promised to get me a contract sorted out and call me in to sign it this week- had yet to do so. I didn't feel it wise to turn down one very solid, generous job offer based on a comparitively flimsy verbal agreement elsewhere, even a job I found so very appealing . I asked if I could have a day to think, and they obliged. So i got on the phone to nuala to find out how my contract was coming along- all I wanted was another verbal reassurance that yes- I had got it, exactly as agreed.
But instead something very odd happened.
Rather than just saying 'yes' she mumbled something about being on reccy, and very busy and to call her later. So later came and I called back- same story- call at half 6. I called PAI and asked them if I could have another day to think about it, and again they obliged, and at half 6 Nuala (shock) was again too busy to say one three letter word. Eventually, she got back into the office at 7.30, I called again and all she seemed to want to talk about was how wet and miserable it was outside. 'Thats all very well' I said 'but can I please have some sort of assurance about the job you offered me?'. She starts umming and ahhing and rambling about how it would only be a few days here and there- 'but I thought there was eight weeks of shooting to do, which would be very busy and require as much help as possible?' I asked, trying not to sound too pathetic. Apparently not. When she asked me in the interview how much notice UCD required before I could leave I assumed (not unreasonably, I thought) that she meant for me to hand in my notice. Seems not- she figured I could carry on working at ucd and still pop in and out to the film company as required- which was plainly absurd. 'This is not the way you described the job to me at all' I said 'Yeah' she replied 'sorry' and then started muttering on about how busy and disorganised everything is (I wanted to scream down the phone at her FUCKING GET ME A CONTRACT AND LET ME HELP YOU THEN YOU STUPID FUCKING WOMAN! but I didn't) and the conversation finished with her asking me if I could try calling her again at lunchtime tomorrow to see if she had got anything sorted. I had guarenteed PAI that I would have their answer first thing in the morning, so that wasn't even an option, but I'm sure that even if it was she'd still not have dislodged her finger from her hole and done anything about the situation. So I called the gentlefolk at PAI and told them I'd be delighted to accept their kind offer. I start monday week.
Now I was initially furious about the whole thing, and broke my lented promise not to swear several dozen times, but after I cooled I reached the realisation that there are after all worse problems to have. The PAI job is still one that I'd have gnawed my own feet off for a month ago- it is journalism, so I'll have industry experience even if it isn't in my area of expertise, and I'll be working with sarah, who's a good laff. In fact the only real crappy part is that I'd told EVERYONE that I'd got the job, when I knew in my heart that nothing had been set in stone. Dad, I believe has told half the country that I was now a director or something, so now he has to suffer the indignity of settling for a journalist (maybe he could bump me up to editor of the irish times or something).
Life, whatever else you can say about it, isn't dull in dirty dublin town.
Anyway- I was surprised to find that I was quite sad at the prospect of leaving UCD- I was really starting to enjoy it, and I was even more surprised to find that quite a few people (many of whom I don't even know) have said they'll be sorry to see me go- which is nice to hear.
So we went to see David O'Docherty in Whelans last week at Brenda's recommendation. A very very funny man- mostly standup, with a fair deal of comedy songs a la Bill Bailey, but possibly funnier (hard as that concept is to grasp). It'd been so long since I'd seen any stand up live, and it was nice to find that a totally unknown quantity could turn out to be so good. Keep an eye out for him, folks, he's coming up.
The best (and only) suggestions for the 'best Gareth's in history' poll I hosted here a few weeks ago came from Jonno who votes for Gareth Hunt and Gareth 'Gaz' Top. Still, the contest was fixed, and the winner is obviously Gareth Finney of Fast Lady and The Carter Brothers fame.
New poll: Worst song lyrics in history.
Anyhoo- time to cook.
Aido 'I enjoy the mystique of a good orange woman' Potato.
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