Originally written on Wednesday, May 16th 2007, 9:30am, Deutsche Bank Tower smoking room, Jakarta, Indonesia. Posted here with some minor editing.
I have a job interview at 10.30. With the BBC World Service. I arrived early becaus I hitched a ride with my brother to his office.
I had actually arrived here at the Deutsche Bank tower at about a quarter past nine. I hung around at the lobby, just standing, since there wasn't any café or anything on the ground floor. I asked the infromation desk, after about 15 minutes just standing around like an idiot (there were no chairs in the lobby), if there was a café or anything. They said there was one round back. There was a bunch of security guards hanging around there at the information desk. They told me to follow some guy, looked like a waiter, and said "follow him, he's the owner." I guess the jeering was made in good spirit, but somehow I feel a little miffed; perhaps I didn't respond properly to their gesture or something.
So I moved round back, outside through the front door. Turns out the Café Oh Lá Lá at the back was nothing more than a counter, a stall without any seats where you're meant to order something and go somewhere else, away. But nearby there was a smoking area, the type typical these days since the enactment of the city law banning smoking within public buildings. The smoking area has seats, and so here I am writing this... blogpost on paper.
My cellphone is dying. I'm using Mom's old N 5110, supported by about half a dozen rubber bands. It still keeps dying on me. I hope it doesn't die while I wait for 10.30, to meet Bernice (or whoever it is I'm supposed to meet). Still an hour away. The cell's the only timepiece I have.
I was at the office until about 23:30 yesterday at the Sacred Bridge, playing around with Premiere Pro
I arrived home at about three in the morning. I still owe an 8 page translation due yesterday, although to be fair I received the order only the day before. There was a time when I would have thought nothing of having the task of translating 8 pages of thick lawyerese Indonesian to English; that time would have been when I was still unemployed. In about four, five dedicated hours I've only managed to complete 4 pages. I would love to be a full-time Indonesian-English translator working from home, but noone's willing to pay me enough; or at least I can't find enough work, at a consistent stream, to make translating a viable source of income for me.
I've written a job advertisement, unpublished, for my current SBF work. I have yet to write a resignation letter for Pak Rano. I have got to stop lying to myself and the company; I just simply am not built for this Communications Head job. I can do simple video editing, I can do basic graphic design, I can write letters in English, but I simply cannot organize. and if organization skills are a basic human property, I accept being labeled inhuman. And that's that.
some postscript thougths, thought up and written just now : The interview went just as advertised; it began at 10:30 and lasted barely fifteen minutes. They said I'd be informed within the day if I got the job or not; They did, and I didn't get the job.
The job title offered was news fixer/producer; part of the job description for the position said that I would be confirming interviews in Indonesian and English, and that I would be confirming facts and stuffs. The description also said that the candidate was to have strong interest in news. Based on the fifteen minutes I was given, I think this latter part is where I flunked. I was given a few hypothetical news situations and I was asked to respond and react quickly, how I would handle, how I would investigate, etc. I was slow on this part.
They did say that they were impressed by my translation abilities (they had me live-interpreting a short Indonesian news dispatch etc.), so that's a positive I guess.
As for my position at the SBF... I'm gonna have to get back to you on that. I'm not exactly having the time of my life, but I'm not interested in carelessly burning any bridges anytime soon. At least not if I can help it.
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