As my last post stated, I am currently working in Wimbledon, which is an unusual location for a PR company to operate from, most of them preferring to be relatively positioned around central London, as that's where most of the media is situated.
I am doing the PR for financial services. Given the fact that my professional background is steeped richly in fashion and grooming PR, I'll leave it up to you to decide how bored you think I am right now.
I am on the books of about five recruitment agencies. I have little experience of any other kind of recruitment agency, but I can reliably inform you that PR recruitment agencies are not a whole lot of cop when it comes to, er, PR recruitment. I guess if I was an actor I would have only one agent. But in my line of work it seems to be wiser to throw the net out wide. I should point out that I have never acquired a job through an agency, always managing to snag one myself.
One of the companies is unbelievably rubbish and even though I have been on their books for about eight months they have yet to send me on an interview or even tell me that a position is available ... anywhere.
However, on Friday I received an email from my agent at this company. Given that the title read "Hello!" and that I had not spoken to her in about four months, I could only assume that she had found me some to-die-for position in the most global PR agency in the world, directing the international PR for Gucci, working closely with Tom Ford.
It was an invitation. To her birthday party.
The idea that my poor agent was so short of friends that had been forced to invite me, someone she had only met once for about five minutes and spoken to only three or four times briefly on the phone, to her birthday party was so depressing that I almost wanted to attend.
But then I read that it's happening at O'Neill's pub in Putney. I don't think so.
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