Working On A Fish Farm

It is no secret that I am seeking paid work.To this end,I have signed up to any number of Jobgoblins and Headhunters, who kindly send me e-mails most days.Despite my diligent attention to their tick boxes and "Search Refiners"; they continue to insist that I am a railway engineer who lives in Milton Keynes,and send vacancies to suit. Some of these agencies seem to have an impish sense of humour. "Liz!" they carol,"We know you have what it takes to be a Driving Instructor!" I don't know where they got this from. I had forty-three driving lessons and was considered a danger to all life forms. When I lived in London I decided to try again,perhaps thinking that my impressive array of disadvantages had worn off. But alas.I was still myopic, couldn't tell left from right without thinking long and hard about it, still had no hand-eye co-ordination, no sense of direction, and a tendency to gibber and cover my eyes when approaching even a mini-roundabout. I used to try and hide my car from other cars. One day a man from the British School Of Motoring drew the short straw. "Ha ha,you ladies!" he said cheerfully, as we drove into the grounds of Middlesex University Trent Park. "You just need confidence...OH JESUS CHRIST!" I had confidently accelerated us into a ditch. It was all very embarrassing.Try making light conversation with a driving instructor who is lint white and palpitating, until the rescue vehicle arrives. Had I not been six months pregnant I think he might have been crosser. So all the driving instructors in Britain got together and made me promise never to try and drive anything again. I am like one of those people who manage to  get themselves banned from every pub in the UK.I can only imagine that it is one of them, nursing a grudge, who has shopped me to "JobsULike" ,who are even now recklessly calling me to be a Driving Instructor.Other opportunities which have come my way this week have been   "Personal Trainer" and "Lecturer In Fish Management. I was tempted to ring up the latter and ask what the scale was. Actually,I would make a good Fish Manager, I think. Might start with goldfish. I would be kind but firm with them. I would introduce performance-related ant eggs, and audit their training needs.I would also sack that smug and insufferable mermaid who seems to be in some sort of middle-management position in most fishbowls. She sits about watching them,as they whirl around their bowls seeking to meet deadlines and targets. She probably got the job due to some Equal Opportunities drive, anyway. "We positively welcome applications from people who are fish from the waist down, and are Working Towards employing people who are fish from the waist up, who are currently under-represented".  That's because they are all working driving buses in Maghull.
I like the more frivolous e-mail offers better, really. My favourite so far has been "Would YOU like Lager Breasts?"  I would, you know,imagine how popular I would be ... I could change my name to Party Seven, like a baby Beckham.