Ok, well let's start this post with the bad news, which is that I didn't even get an interview to the Brits School job. 70 people applied for it and, like Dorking Halls, among the candidates were previous box office/theatre managers; just my luck. To make things worse, I also lost my quarter finals men's doubles match at my badminton club. Except for a few wayward serves, I doubt I could've played any better than I did on the night.
It doesn't get much better this week, sadly. A work colleague has taken the entire week off sick on compassionate leave, and I've plugged every available gap to the tune of 56 hours. I write this as I have just got through my front door after 35 consecutive hours of work. With shifts finishing at 10pm and having to be back at the office by 8am the following morning, there just isn't time to socialise in between and find that oh-so-elusive female company, which is a shame as that's obviously one key component of evolving and developing my pathetic life. It's all I can manage to make dinner, eat, glance at the news, and collapse into bed.
Perhaps it's time I tried Prozac, or as they call it in the industry, "artificial happy"?
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