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Bakery and bedsit

Cork City Ireland, 2009-2010 —

In November I took a walk on Blackrock Road in southeast Cork City. I was there for contemplative reasons, not pragmatic; but knowing of the Natural Foods Bakery at Pier Head in Blackrock Village, I followed an impulse to go there and ask.

Roddy, one of the owners, told me that yes, they might indeed be hiring, sometime after Christmas. I know enough about Ireland to understand that "after Christmas" means "February, or near enough to it," so it's no reflection of my lack of industry that I didn't return until then. The girl said Roddy would be in on Tuesday, so I went back and it looked like they wanted to hire me.

It all seemed to fit together quite auspiciously.

When I decided that I needed to find a place to live on my own (and discarded logic in that decision, because "needed" is not an exaggeration of the state I was in,) I found a place here on the north side, and near to the "temporary" housing where I stayed from August to January. That fork in the road was a decision to not pursue the bakery job — the hardship of going from northside to southeast would have made the sensitive task of making bread [and at the start of a job] almost impossible.

But, anyhow, I took the place, and all of the implications that went along with it.

The first time I tried to bake bread, I found out that the oven does not really work. It came on, but it didn't come to proper heat.

I told the property manager about the problem. Then he replaced it. The new one was worse. It could not boil water. I was amazed and appalled, and yet not shocked and that made me feel disgusted....

This was a piece of shit, and really should not have been on the market.

Well, it turns out that the property manager was all the time acting in good faith — but there was one morning when I was not sure of that, and I was essentially operating in crisis mode. I made a 'phone call.

I'd spoken a few weeks before with a guy taking care of an old house full of bedsits over on Blackrock Road. I'd had a couple of appointments scheduled with him, the first of which he canceled because he was "dyin'" (hung-over,) and the second of which I canceled because I'd found a place to live.

But I made that 'phone call, to reschedule (again,) and got the place.

Of course, there's no living on Blackrock Road and not going back to the bakery. So I did.

And I think I got the job.*

I definitely got the place, keys in hand — which improves my chances of getting the job.
*I did.