This was it. The big day. Well... not really THE big day... more of the 1st course before the main meal...
Anywho, 30th Dec 2008, Jean was getting ready to take her driving theory test, the test she had spent liturally HOURS preparing for. Tense. Dave had tagged along for moral support, but it would all come down to her.
She approached the reception.
"Driving license please," said the lady. She then turned to Dave, "Can you have your's ready?"
"Oh no," said Dave, "I'm with her, I'll leave in a sec."
From this point on both of the receptionists seemed to assume Dave was some kind of translator and EVERY word they spoke was directed at him... Jean's flawless use of English throughout strangely did not alter this initial mistaken assumption.
"We can have the test spoken in Cantonese if she would like?"
"No," said Jean, "I don't speak Cantonese, do you have Manderin?"
"No, sorry, we have Cantonese...?"
"No, it's fine, English is fine."
"Here's a list of the languages available. Cantonese?"
Jean looked briefly at the list, "no Manderin."
"No. But we have Cantonese."
"She doesn't speak Cantonese," Dave tried to explain, "China has two languages..."
"English is fine," said Jean happily.
"Sure? We have Cantonese?"
On hindsight, someone really should have asked this guy if HE spoke English...
Crunch time. Dave left, Jean entered.
She was shown to a little table, simple layout, computer screen, mouse, headphones and small walls to seperate her from the others on computers either side. The test began.
"What should you do..."
etc etc
"A, B, A, D, C, not sure... C?..." 50 multiple choice questions, 43 correct answers needed for the pass.
Jean's mind began to wander..., 'Dave is so great.... I love Dave... so handsome...such big... eyes....'
(Note: May not have happened, but a guy can dream...)
'Stay focused Jean, B, C, not sure... A?,...'
Questions over, on to the Hazard Preception. 14 little video clips. Click when you see a danger. 44 out of 75 needed for the pass.
'AH!! CAR!!' *Click*
'AH!!!!!!! MAN!!!!!' *Click*
'AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! DOG!!!!!' *Click*
Test finished. Results Time.
Theory Part: 44 out of 50. Pass! Phew.
Hazard Part: 58!
She nailed it! Hole in One.
Next stop, license.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Shoes
Shoes are a funny old thing. Simple design, simple function, not changed much in a fairly long time and not likely to any time soon. Sure you can add sparkly bits and dangly things and whatever else it is women spend hours upon hours looking at, but basically you put your feet in and walk, safe from little sharp and/or dirty objects you may later step on.
A sensible guy can get a decent pair of shoes somewhere in the range of £20-£50 and be set for years to come. But some people lack this common sense approach and thus the shoe industry has taken the humble shoe and turned it into a multi billion pound industry.
The Clarks website has shoes ranging from less than £10 all the way up to £120. LV shoes on the other hand start at around £300 and head up to around £4,000. In one episode of Sex and the City apparently more than £20,000 is spent on a pair.
So what is it that makes a pair of shoes "worth" so much? Again, the common sense approach would say comfort, no contest, but actually the more expensive articles are often the bigest death traps for feet. Value is generally rated by material costs, appearance, brand names, the fact that a celeb wore something similar or just because some people have too much money.
But how do you make a pair of shoes REALLY valuable, without ANY previous shoe making experience, no brand name, no shiny bits or dangly things?
Simple.
Throw them at Bush.
For anyone who didn't hear about it (seriously, how could you miss this?), during Bush's most recent and last visit to Iraq (as president at least, but will he really visit for holidays later?), journalist Muntadar al-Zaidi stood up, shouted "This is a goodbye kiss from the Iraqi people, dog." (Why he doesn't like dogs I have no idea), and threw his Iraqi made shoes at the out-going president.
Bids are now coming from all over the world to buy the shoes. A former Iraqi football coach, Adnan Hamad, has offered £65,000 for the pair, but that's apparently small fry as a Saudi citizen has rumouredly offered £6,500,000. It's not entirely clear as to who actually has the shoes right now and where the money would go though, and there is a slight health warning, as the Iraqi officials has apparently beat the cr*p out of Muntadar and he may face up to 2 years in jail.
Still, this is a very new market for the shoe industry and clearly has a huge amount of potential. £6.5 mil and the shoes didn't even really hit Bush. Imagine what you would get for a bulls eye?
Dave finally had an idea for a business...
A sensible guy can get a decent pair of shoes somewhere in the range of £20-£50 and be set for years to come. But some people lack this common sense approach and thus the shoe industry has taken the humble shoe and turned it into a multi billion pound industry.
The Clarks website has shoes ranging from less than £10 all the way up to £120. LV shoes on the other hand start at around £300 and head up to around £4,000. In one episode of Sex and the City apparently more than £20,000 is spent on a pair.
So what is it that makes a pair of shoes "worth" so much? Again, the common sense approach would say comfort, no contest, but actually the more expensive articles are often the bigest death traps for feet. Value is generally rated by material costs, appearance, brand names, the fact that a celeb wore something similar or just because some people have too much money.
But how do you make a pair of shoes REALLY valuable, without ANY previous shoe making experience, no brand name, no shiny bits or dangly things?
Simple.
Throw them at Bush.
For anyone who didn't hear about it (seriously, how could you miss this?), during Bush's most recent and last visit to Iraq (as president at least, but will he really visit for holidays later?), journalist Muntadar al-Zaidi stood up, shouted "This is a goodbye kiss from the Iraqi people, dog." (Why he doesn't like dogs I have no idea), and threw his Iraqi made shoes at the out-going president.
Bids are now coming from all over the world to buy the shoes. A former Iraqi football coach, Adnan Hamad, has offered £65,000 for the pair, but that's apparently small fry as a Saudi citizen has rumouredly offered £6,500,000. It's not entirely clear as to who actually has the shoes right now and where the money would go though, and there is a slight health warning, as the Iraqi officials has apparently beat the cr*p out of Muntadar and he may face up to 2 years in jail.
Still, this is a very new market for the shoe industry and clearly has a huge amount of potential. £6.5 mil and the shoes didn't even really hit Bush. Imagine what you would get for a bulls eye?
Dave finally had an idea for a business...
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Credit Suisse. Part 2.
Monday was a great day.
Not only was Dave confident he would be recieving good news from Credit Suisse any day now, he had also just recieved his quarterly grant payment from Uni and much to his surprise they had paid him £750 more than he was expecting. 'Wow.'
Unfortunately the error was quickly picked up, ah well. Even more unfortunately, a previous error which Dave had not even realised was an error was picked up at the same time. Instead of £750 more than he expected, Dave would now have £750 less. 'Darn'
Enter Thursday.
On the way to hand in a cheque for £1500, Dave popped briefly into his office at Uni. After a bit of map searching and head scratching he eventually found the right department and handed it over. "Handed it over" here meaning had it pryed from his steal vice grip.
Easy come, Easy go. Dave headed for the comfort of home.
On reaching home he discovered he had left his keys in his office. 'Damn.'
He quickly yo-yoed back and forth once more and collapsed in front of his computer to check his emails.
Credit Suisse.
This was it. This day would finally be turning around...
"... Unfortunately, having reviewed the performance of all of our candidates being interviewed, we will not be progressing your application further at this time..."
...
'*%£*"$*"!!!!!!!!!'
But on the bright side it would be Monday again soon.
Not only was Dave confident he would be recieving good news from Credit Suisse any day now, he had also just recieved his quarterly grant payment from Uni and much to his surprise they had paid him £750 more than he was expecting. 'Wow.'
Unfortunately the error was quickly picked up, ah well. Even more unfortunately, a previous error which Dave had not even realised was an error was picked up at the same time. Instead of £750 more than he expected, Dave would now have £750 less. 'Darn'
Enter Thursday.
On the way to hand in a cheque for £1500, Dave popped briefly into his office at Uni. After a bit of map searching and head scratching he eventually found the right department and handed it over. "Handed it over" here meaning had it pryed from his steal vice grip.
Easy come, Easy go. Dave headed for the comfort of home.
On reaching home he discovered he had left his keys in his office. 'Damn.'
He quickly yo-yoed back and forth once more and collapsed in front of his computer to check his emails.
Credit Suisse.
This was it. This day would finally be turning around...
"... Unfortunately, having reviewed the performance of all of our candidates being interviewed, we will not be progressing your application further at this time..."
...
'*%£*"$*"!!!!!!!!!'
But on the bright side it would be Monday again soon.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Credit Suisse. Part 1.
After several weeks of waiting, with each day reporting ever increasing numbers of redundencies, Dave had all but given up on his applications to various investment banks. It was clearly just not the right time to try.
One by one the replies came in. "We're sorry, but due to the high number of...", "No." "Nah dah." "Good Luck." Unfortunately, no surprises.
Until, on Thursday 27th Nov 2008, a ray of hope! Credit Suisse had offered him an interview for an internship starting June '09. "Would you be interested?" Dave almost snapped their hand off.
Tuesday 2nd Dec 2008, Dave headed down to London on the 8:15am train from Liverpool. He had hardly slept at all and the butterflies in his stomach refused to let him eat. He just about managed an apple and a few biscuits on the journey down south.
The interview process would start at 1pm. Dave arrived around 20 min early and was shown to a small room to axiously wait.
It was a nice enough room. Mostly green. Just big enough to fit the round table in it's center surrounded by 5 chairs and a small desk top in the corner on which rested tea and coffee facilities. One wall was taken up almost entirely by windows and Dave stared down from the 16th floor room on the city that may soon be his home.
Dave was not good at interviews. He had not eaten. He had not slept. He was a bag of nerves. The wait was killing him.
Finally, a little after 1pm, a man entered the room. Dave stood, shook his hand and the two knights of the round table sat down together to decide the fate of Camelot. The man started by introducing himself and his work, Dave asked some small questions but basically sat there like a nodding dog. Dave was then asked to briefly describe his PhD topic, which he did.
And then the fun started.
"Why do you want to work for Credit Suisse?"
"Give me an example you have worked well in a team?"
"What is your biggest weakness?"
etc, etc, etc, were all questions that Dave was NOT asked. In fact, other than the initial introduction, the entire interview was just a bunch of fun little mathematical puzzles.
"Simplify i^i"
"If I have two children and one of them is a girl, whats the probability the other one is a girl?"
etc etc etc
'Cool,' thought Dave. (For those that didn't know, people who do PhD's in mathematical topics tend to have a different view on the meaning of "cool".)
At two 2pm the first guy left. Dave poured himself a glass of water and waited for the second. Nerves? What nerves? He owned this room. At 3pm, he poured himself another glass and waited for the 3rd.
At 6pm he finally left the room with his 5th and final interviewer. All five interviews had been almost identical to the first. They had nearly all started with a brief introduction and the requirement of Dave to explain his PhD and then poured straight into mathematical games. Some had even asked him the same maths questions, though Dave had been honest/foolish enough to admit when this had happened instead of using it to obvious advantage.
He left Credit Suisse a little after 6pm. He caught two tubes back to Eusten with severe delays, arriving there around 7:30pm. With 45 minutes to wait for his train back home and his butterflies well and truely dead, it finally occured to Dave that breakfast might be a good idea.
When you haven't really eaten for nearly 24 hours, breakfast is glourious. The finest chicken salad subway known to man. Yummy.
With 30 minutes until his train back to Liverpool, Dave then went looking for dinner.
He arrived home a little after 11pm. Now all he could do was wait. If successful, he would soon be invited to another 5 hours of interviews down in London. Successful completion of that would get him an offer for a 10 week internship come June. Successful completion of that would get him a job offer starting in January 2010, just in time for the start of the next big financial bubble.
Fingers crossed.
One by one the replies came in. "We're sorry, but due to the high number of...", "No." "Nah dah." "Good Luck." Unfortunately, no surprises.
Until, on Thursday 27th Nov 2008, a ray of hope! Credit Suisse had offered him an interview for an internship starting June '09. "Would you be interested?" Dave almost snapped their hand off.
Tuesday 2nd Dec 2008, Dave headed down to London on the 8:15am train from Liverpool. He had hardly slept at all and the butterflies in his stomach refused to let him eat. He just about managed an apple and a few biscuits on the journey down south.
The interview process would start at 1pm. Dave arrived around 20 min early and was shown to a small room to axiously wait.
It was a nice enough room. Mostly green. Just big enough to fit the round table in it's center surrounded by 5 chairs and a small desk top in the corner on which rested tea and coffee facilities. One wall was taken up almost entirely by windows and Dave stared down from the 16th floor room on the city that may soon be his home.
Dave was not good at interviews. He had not eaten. He had not slept. He was a bag of nerves. The wait was killing him.
Finally, a little after 1pm, a man entered the room. Dave stood, shook his hand and the two knights of the round table sat down together to decide the fate of Camelot. The man started by introducing himself and his work, Dave asked some small questions but basically sat there like a nodding dog. Dave was then asked to briefly describe his PhD topic, which he did.
And then the fun started.
"Why do you want to work for Credit Suisse?"
"Give me an example you have worked well in a team?"
"What is your biggest weakness?"
etc, etc, etc, were all questions that Dave was NOT asked. In fact, other than the initial introduction, the entire interview was just a bunch of fun little mathematical puzzles.
"Simplify i^i"
"If I have two children and one of them is a girl, whats the probability the other one is a girl?"
etc etc etc
'Cool,' thought Dave. (For those that didn't know, people who do PhD's in mathematical topics tend to have a different view on the meaning of "cool".)
At two 2pm the first guy left. Dave poured himself a glass of water and waited for the second. Nerves? What nerves? He owned this room. At 3pm, he poured himself another glass and waited for the 3rd.
At 6pm he finally left the room with his 5th and final interviewer. All five interviews had been almost identical to the first. They had nearly all started with a brief introduction and the requirement of Dave to explain his PhD and then poured straight into mathematical games. Some had even asked him the same maths questions, though Dave had been honest/foolish enough to admit when this had happened instead of using it to obvious advantage.
He left Credit Suisse a little after 6pm. He caught two tubes back to Eusten with severe delays, arriving there around 7:30pm. With 45 minutes to wait for his train back home and his butterflies well and truely dead, it finally occured to Dave that breakfast might be a good idea.
When you haven't really eaten for nearly 24 hours, breakfast is glourious. The finest chicken salad subway known to man. Yummy.
With 30 minutes until his train back to Liverpool, Dave then went looking for dinner.
He arrived home a little after 11pm. Now all he could do was wait. If successful, he would soon be invited to another 5 hours of interviews down in London. Successful completion of that would get him an offer for a 10 week internship come June. Successful completion of that would get him a job offer starting in January 2010, just in time for the start of the next big financial bubble.
Fingers crossed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)