Up-and-down-day

My day started badly. The internet still didn't work - more on that later - and I spent too long trying to fix it by unplugging it, staring hard at it, and then plugging it back in. That didn't work. It never works, but one day it will, and that will be the day I become "The Man With Laser Eyes."

It actually picked up once I got to work; it's roasting hot and I'm in a nice cool office by the window, which means I never overheat and simultaneously have absolutely no chance of seeing the screen as I am blinded by the glare. Today I was working on a mini-guide to help computer illiterate alumni connect to the network. I had done a French and an English version when my colleague mentioned that there were a couple of German people on the list, and would I mind rattling off a version in German quickly?

Give her her dues, she held a straight face remarkably well while I spluttered and reached for the words in French to convey how touched I was that she'd asked me and how utterly awful that same idea was. I must have been a ridiculous figure, and she finally relented and admitted she was joking. The rest of the day passed as always; another chapter to re-read (I keep thinking I've finished with that, and I keep getting more chapters. It's bizarre.) and more students coming and borrowing things. Hurrah! I'm going to work on a survey for other students as well and offer a prize to bribe them into doing it. I love bribes. I love anonymity too, anonymous surveys are absolutely the best. Anonymous everything: job applications, exam papers, feedback forms.

I think a 50€ Amazon voucher would be in the theme of things.

I also corrected a blog post by a student who was writing about an explosion (and who'd tried to make it light-hearted but instead had made it scarier, like a gorilla with an Uzi) that occurred in a petrochemicals plant in Carling, France. The students have to write in English, and I was struck once more by the curiously narrow band of errors all French students make. Missing articles and prepositions  and having real trouble with the third person singular ending -s. Is this common to all students, or only those for whom French is the langue maternelle? 

My afternoon was given over to T.F.I practice, which is getting fractionally better week-on-week. There's one other student who's leaping ahead of me, and being naturally competitive I keep having to remind myself that I'm not trying to beat her, I'm just trying to get a good score.

(I am definitely trying to beat her.)

Following the lesson I headed back to my little mediatheque, saved lots of little pochettes from the bin - I have big plans for those bad boys - and then went to La Défense, to recover my shoes, which I'd worn a hole in from tramping around Versailles. I should have gone to a concert tonight, but I discovered before leaving work that my ticket had fallen out of my pocket at some point during the day and, despite tearing the room apart, I couldn't find the thing. I can guarantee that when I go in tomorrow one of the cleaners will have found it and put it on my desk. You'll be able to hear the cry of anguish wherever you are.

There's a silver lining, though. I've got my room tidier, my washing up done, and my laundry freshly...laundered, I suppose. And, even better, I've got the window open and the sounds of a little town on the outskirts of Paris are drifting in like smoke.

Let's not let this ever end.

Oh, bugger

The title might have tipped you off, but unfortunately I did not get the internship I was hoping for. However, the reasons are optimistic; they wanted someone who was available for a longer time period. That's fair enough; it was a stretch to ask for a three month internship that they hoped would morph into a full-time employee to be turned into a two-month internship with the hope of an employee in two years time.

I can't pretend I'm not gutted, but such is life. We get up, we keep going. It means that all the Heisenberg-esque uncertainty has resolved itself into the need to get myself set up in Aberdeen with a job and a flat, so I'm afraid it's back to that same old tune - who's got a flat that Jonathan can move into?

That unpleasant business out of the way, my workload has been mounting again but I've been permitted back into my old new office. I am reinstalled and receiving students, and it's giving me joy to see certain students who return again and again and who clearly keep copious notes. They make my heart glad. They make my soul sing. They make me wonder if it would be ethical to clone them.

Today was peppered with translations; one a mailing to be sent out to a few thousand people (so no pressure) and the other an exam for a particular program (again, no pressure). On top of that I'm polishing off next week's work nice and early, booking rooms and informing people who need to know where I'll be.

The evening was given over to a presentation by a very interesting man who works in project management. I confess I was cynical at first, of the opinion that managers are essentially useless, but he won me round. I will now admit that managers are only a bit useless, but one thing resonated especially - project managers are necessary because there is one resource that is incredibly hard to control, and that is people. Getting people to work together, and work together well, is a skill worth more than anything.

So folks, there's my day. This weekend my girlfriend will be coming down before I jet off to Germany so I don't know how much writing I'll get done, but I'll try to jot something down every night. If I can't get access out there (does Germany have internet?) I'll upload everything when I'm back. I promise to return with souvenirs in the forms of photos and humorous stories.

Not as cheerful as usual, but I'm a little down. Normal, teeth-aching cheeriness will recommence tomorrow. Until that time, have some eye candy. Suitable for everyone of almost all ages.

For people who like attractive and nearly naked chaps

And for people who like attractive and nearly naked ladies

Forget Thorpe Park, Skype's where the scares are really at

For those who read regularly, it will be unnecessary to remind you that I had an interview yesterday. For those who've just arrived; welcome. I had an interview yesterday (backstory here) and I'm pretty confident. I'll be doing a breakdown later, purely for my own enjoyment (read: horror), but if you're interested it'll be appearing over on my PR blog later.

In brief: I think it went very well, but as there'll be a more in-depth look later, I'm going to focus on the fun stuff that happened later, as my interview is hardly interesting to you. I will mention, however, that Skype behaved perfectly almost all the way through, allowing me to explain myself and my ideas in two languages with no problem.

However - and I suspect gremlins, because it is the only possible explanation - at the point when my interviewers said "Okay, this is what we'd like you to do next..." Skype just lost it. No sound, frozen picture, and my heart did its best to escape through my throat. Thankfully Skype recovered after that slight wobble, which meant only a minute of repeating "Hello?" at different volumes and pitches. I say "only" a minute, but it seemed longer, in the same way that touching a red hot stove for "only" five seconds feels like a whole lot longer.

That thought courtesy of Einstein, by the way.

So: the first stage is complete. Now to demonstrate my style. Elsewhere. Onwards to Thursday.

The day was filled with strolling around the school, shaking hands and making sure there were no problems in translation. It was great to see all of my students looking slick and suited, although there were certainly some who looked uncomfortably constrained.

Lunch was excellent, as I was invited to sit with the companies in the dining hall on the third floor. There were waiters. There was wine. There were three courses and coffee. It was delicious, although the starter took some getting used to - it seemed to be a mix of pistachios, salmon, cream, balsamic vinegar all served in a champagne coupette. Weirdly it worked, but I don't know if I'd have ordered it given the choice.

After lunch we waddled back to work, and I spent the afternoon emailing fielding requests from students and polishing off the translation I started earlier this week. After that, a little more prep for the interview and then there was nothing left to do but sit nervously.

So that's what I did. At two minutes to six I was added, with a short message to tell me that the interview would be pushed back by ten minutes. No problem.

Ten minutes passed. Then two more.

"We don't seem to be able to call you," my interviewer typed.

Oh excellent. 

I tried ringing them and got through immediately. Apparently the internet here blocks incoming calls. Useful to know.

The interview continued from there, for the most part in English but with French interspersed. I'm confident and, as I said, I've now got a piece to write for Monday to show my style.

The rest of Thursday evening was spent in Chatêlet Les Halles, at a wonderfully Parisian little wine bar (La Trinquette, Rue des Gravilliers, 75003). I've talked about the the particular way in which the French run their bars and restaurants, and this was cheerfully, wonderfully stereotypical. We seized a bottle of well-priced red (honestly, I'm yet to find anywhere in Britain where a £20 bottle of wine could be as complex and wonderful as it is here) and - there is no other word for it - crushed ourselves into seats.

Before long (3 hours later, there's that pesky relativity again) we wobbled our way out, squeezing past patrons and serving staff, and parted ways. The RER A rushed me home and the cold air on the twenty minute walk home served to sober me up a little. A dish of pasta and pesto later I fell asleep.

You're not a real student until you wake up hugging an empty bowl of pesto pasta.