Scoochy Boochy
Hey Everyone,
Today I had my National Insurance Number interview.
And I managed to get there and be only five minutes late. D'OH!
Fortunately the office had been struck down by the flu or food poisoning or mass pregnancy or something, because they were running even later than I do usually (and as you all know, I run pretty fucking late. If Running Late was an Olympic Sport I would be a medal holder).
Anyways, when I got there they told me that there would be a two hour wait(!!!) so I took a short trip down the street to get a coke and water, and returned to kick back until my number was called.
I have no idea how long it took, but I did manage to read a whole forty pages of Alice in Wonderland while fending off a a preternaturally strong asian toddler who tried to get hold of my coke bottle.
The actual interview itself was a walkthrough. Just gave them my two passports, sign a few papers, answer some easy questions and the rest of it was all chat from the friendly interviewer.
Speaking of chat, did I mention that the cashier at the bank yesterday started asking me all sorts of questions about Australia etc while I was paying my rent? I've been paying my rent into that branch for a year now, and that is the first time one of the bank tellers have tried to chat me up. It must be the haircut. I should have asked her out for a pint.
Nevermind, I'll try that next month.
At the end of the interview I was told that the Number might take between three and six weeks to come through, and after that to start calling one number and quoting another to find out when it is going to come through.
After that I rode a bus back up Hoe Street, Walthamstow, noted that there was a STAFF WANTED sign in a hip looking cafe window and got off at the markets. Wandering down the markets I saw that the previous grimy Walthamstow Markets were still grimy, but the seem to be a few more upmarket clothes shops and hairdressers moving in.
Interesting.
Since I didn't want to take the 257 back to Leytonstone, I decided to find the Wathamstow Queen's Road station, which would deposit me more or less on my doorstep.
The trade off? The train only goes every half hour, and the Queens Road Station is hard to find.
No matter. I staved of hunger pangs by eating some hot cross buns I bought from Sainsbury's. So much for the diet. Heh.
I was going to look in the Disposals shop to see what their prices were for Glow Sticks, but it was shut. I might check it tomorrow when I go by Walthamstow to drop my CV into the cafe.
Other stuff:
My flatmate Nenad got all passive aggressive because my stuff is all over the living room table etc. Which is fair enough, I guess. I just don't like passive aggressive people full stop.
Also: I'm going to pass the SixFtHick email address to the What's Cooking people tonight.
Anyways, out of time.
Over and out.
J
Today I had my National Insurance Number interview.
And I managed to get there and be only five minutes late. D'OH!
Fortunately the office had been struck down by the flu or food poisoning or mass pregnancy or something, because they were running even later than I do usually (and as you all know, I run pretty fucking late. If Running Late was an Olympic Sport I would be a medal holder).
Anyways, when I got there they told me that there would be a two hour wait(!!!) so I took a short trip down the street to get a coke and water, and returned to kick back until my number was called.
I have no idea how long it took, but I did manage to read a whole forty pages of Alice in Wonderland while fending off a a preternaturally strong asian toddler who tried to get hold of my coke bottle.
The actual interview itself was a walkthrough. Just gave them my two passports, sign a few papers, answer some easy questions and the rest of it was all chat from the friendly interviewer.
Speaking of chat, did I mention that the cashier at the bank yesterday started asking me all sorts of questions about Australia etc while I was paying my rent? I've been paying my rent into that branch for a year now, and that is the first time one of the bank tellers have tried to chat me up. It must be the haircut. I should have asked her out for a pint.
Nevermind, I'll try that next month.
At the end of the interview I was told that the Number might take between three and six weeks to come through, and after that to start calling one number and quoting another to find out when it is going to come through.
After that I rode a bus back up Hoe Street, Walthamstow, noted that there was a STAFF WANTED sign in a hip looking cafe window and got off at the markets. Wandering down the markets I saw that the previous grimy Walthamstow Markets were still grimy, but the seem to be a few more upmarket clothes shops and hairdressers moving in.
Interesting.
Since I didn't want to take the 257 back to Leytonstone, I decided to find the Wathamstow Queen's Road station, which would deposit me more or less on my doorstep.
The trade off? The train only goes every half hour, and the Queens Road Station is hard to find.
No matter. I staved of hunger pangs by eating some hot cross buns I bought from Sainsbury's. So much for the diet. Heh.
I was going to look in the Disposals shop to see what their prices were for Glow Sticks, but it was shut. I might check it tomorrow when I go by Walthamstow to drop my CV into the cafe.
Other stuff:
My flatmate Nenad got all passive aggressive because my stuff is all over the living room table etc. Which is fair enough, I guess. I just don't like passive aggressive people full stop.
Also: I'm going to pass the SixFtHick email address to the What's Cooking people tonight.
Anyways, out of time.
Over and out.
J
posted by the.exile at 8:49 pm
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