Jobs

I've had lots of interviews in the past two weeks only one of which was for a job that I actually want. I have had my human rights interview; it went very well, they just loved me, especially my wiritngs and the sob story of my oppressed childhood, BUT...There is already an unnoficial "but," and while waiting for the official one (which won't come for another week at least) I convinced myself that I don't really want to work for them anyway and I can see all that is wrong with this high-profile international NGO world. Rejection (or the idea of rejection) has this effect on me: it does not increase my desire for things that I can't have, rather it alienates me from them. (I am aware that this is a self-defense mechanism, but it is healthier than becoming desperate and depressed.) On the upside, the law firms don't seem as bad as a temporary solution now...(God knows they might reject me - then I can hate them again freely!!!)

Some people have much more interesting job problems. At a party last night I met a Hungarian guy who works as a "go-go boy" or stripper. I was taken aback; somehow I always thought that the stereotype of the eastern European who comes to the west and ends up stripping only applied to girls. The guy was ok cute, with short hair and a short body-builder physique, but I certainly didn't have fantasies of slipping one-dollar-bills in his thong while he is giving me a lapdance... He only told me about the birthday and bachelorette parties, but one of his friends told me in confidence that the best tips came from the gay customers, of course. I guess it's less hard work and more money than waiting tables. The guy said it's tough here and he wants to go back to Europe, maybe London. He asked me if bachelorette parties were big over there, so I taught him that in England these are still called (in a somewhat un-PC way) "hen nights."

Budapest

I went to a party tonight with J. I met J. through nerve.com, a dating website. We didn't really click, but he was cool and has a fetish of sorts for Hungarians, having married one years ago and having lived in Budapest for a while. He even dated a woman, who dated my brother and one of my ex-boyfriends, as it had turned out he has attended some of our "great," crazy parties at my father's place. The party tonight was at R.'s place. It was a suprise party for A., his wife, with whom he famously lives in an open marriage. Just two days ago R. had sent me a message on nerve.com that he would like to have a drink with me. I went to the party with a friend, M., a Hungarian who knows everyone in town. The surprise worked well, I pretty much ignored R., and then it turned out that J. had emailed A. through -- guess where -- nerve.com. So it's gone full circle. Funny, isn't it? Just like in Budapest.

Justice

There is some justice after all. I spoke with Tom, my former boss in my former (brief) life as a management consultant in Paris, and the central character in our fight against crookery and theft. Diggler, his former business partner and the source of my woes in May-June this year, and his cronies (including the Mexican bitch) were fired from the French company; their department dismatled. Apparently some big boss has had enough of their shenanigans and decided to get rid of them. Of course, this won't make them pay any of the stolen money back, but I for one find personal satisfaction in knowing that they got some of what they deserved. I am particularly pleased that the selfish, money-grabbing, cheap ho, who treated me like a criminal for standing up to truth and professionalism, is now left with no carreer, no man, no family and a wardrobe full of bad clothes at fifty-something. Granted, she probably has millions in a couple of offshore accounts, but is that enough of a substitute? My guess is not.