Temporary Measures

Today I sold my soul to the devil. Today I dragged myself out of bed at an ungodly hour (it was so early that I had to set an alarm) and hauled my tea and sleep deprived body into 'town.' Dressed all smart like, I got to spend an hour this morning pretending to be just like everyone else who actually does a proper job for a living. Like the dullest undercover spy that there ever was, I sat with my book on the bus and looked exactly like all the other people who get paid to do things. I bet they all thought I was going off to do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay but like the amazing secret agent that I am, I wasn't. I was going to sign up to a temping agency.

After nearly two months of living in denial, existing on the scraps of currency that were found in my bank/purse/sofa, I finally had to face up to the fact that I will need to work if I want to continue living off more than thin air. So off I went ready to sign my life away to the world of work while I pointlessly explained to some unsympathetic being about how I really want to make a career out of hanging around theatres and film sets. But how wrong I was. I was instead faced with a lovely person who totally understood what I wanted (apparently I'm not the first and only person in the world who wants both money and their dream job) and they'll let me earn some cash when I'm not prancing off to auditions, actually doing some acting work or in desperate need of a lie-in.

But don't worry. just because Miss L has now entered the corporate world, this doesn't mean that clumsiness and stupidity don't rule the day. I managed to stand by the front door to the office for nearly five minutes, buzzing up to reception because the door didn't open. It's only when someone else walked straight in that I realised both my feeble arms and inability to complete simple tasks were in charge yet again. I also managed to knock the numerous forms that I was supposed to fill out from the hands of the receptionist and sent them cascading across the office floor. I think you'll agree that I set quite the professional imperssion when I enter a room. However, I'm pretty sure that I aced the spelling test (it's spelt 'compewtur' right?) and I managed to continue with the typing test when I realised that I was typing up a piece about how insecure the job market is and how you need to ensure that you're doing something that you love. As texts go, I'm fairly sure this isn't the most inspiring to have when you're sat in a very artificially lit, cramped room typing away to get money because the job you really want won't give you a penny.

So now I've doubled my disappointment when my phone doesn't ring. Now there will be days when even more people realise they don't require my services and even more industries decide they'd rather have nothing to do with me. Or maybe it'll be the other way round and I'll find that everyone discovers that they all need a piece of Miss L. I'll be so in demand that I'll top the 'Most Wanted' charts. Maybe.

Check back tomorrow for a guaranteed entry inspired by neediness, desperation and an empty purse.