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.