The Waiting Game

When faced with the choice to travel prior to starting up work and settling down in the UK, it was a pretty easy decision to make. For the responsible, pro harmony, have-to-plan-to-be-spontaneous person that I am, the thought of trekking around Europe wrecklessly spending without a guaranteed job to fall upon afterwards filled me with dread. Instead I would be happily boarding the plane having already lined up my first recruitment agency interview for the day after arriving. In the perfect world I was envisioning, this would allow me enough time to set up my bank account, get a UK SIM, get my NI number (TFN equivalent) and iron my clothes ready to rock up and accept a fabulous opportunity.

A domino effect of technological disasters later, by the end of day one all I had managed to accomplish was opening the bank account (not that I could access it yet). All good and well I thought, as I donned my corporate attire the next day and brushed my teeth three times over in preparation for my big smoke break.

Opening the door to the first recruitment agency, I was welcomed by a state of organised chaos. I was quickly ushered along to sit at a computer and take some skills testing in MS Word, Excel, spelling and typing. This was followed by a face to face interview and a promise to be in contact shortly. Before I knew it, I found myself back out on the street and forced to play The Waiting Game.

The Waiting Game is a state of helpless limbo in which I have found myself placed on a regular basis - regarding technology, bank account, job and house hunt. On top of this, as the lady behind the reception desk agrees, London is a city that is dependant on processes and natural progression. Throw a spanner in the mix, whether it be by the delayed opening of a bank account or no secure permanent address to send correspondence too, it prolongs The Dreaded Waiting Game.

Now, for all those thinking "how fabulous, talk about an extended holiday!" the thought of galavanting my way across London only to receive a negative phone call in the middle of a public space fills me with a type of fear that would most certainly distract anyone from the wonders of places such as the National Gallery. Fortunately the weekends have been my fear-free saviour where I have so far experienced the delights of Covent Garden Markets, Soho, The British Museum and the British Library. During the week though, my broomstick cupboard bedroom has become a sanctuary in between interviews where I can happily take off my pants and research more opportunities mixed in with watching an entire two seasons of Suits. A romantic vision, no?

However, two weeks, five recruitment agencies, nine interviews, 10+ house viewings and too many tube journeys that I'm willing to recall later, an end to The Waiting Game is hopefully and tauntingly close. Armed with a kick-ass recruitment agent and enough funds to blind the renting agency from the fact I've never lived out of home before, by the end of the week some things may have fallen into place. Although I will have to face an end to the pants-off-Fridayandeveryotherdayoftheweek era once co-habiting with a couple of guys, it's a small price I'm willing to pay for consistency and security!

Love, Em xxx