Last week I attended a job interview where I made it clear I was unable to work this Wednesday, and a further Sunday in September. This all seemed fine and there was much shaking of hands and promising talk of being in touch.
A recruitment company had put me forward for the role, in full pre-knowledge that I couldn't work this Wednesday, and in possession of CVs and covering letters that said exactly that.
So of course the call comes through this morning. Can I start Wednesday?
Why? What's so special about Wednesday that I can't work it?
IT DOESN'T MATTER.
The agency is there to provide a service adhered to my requirements and needs provided I fulfill the terms they present when they acquire a role. If I order a cheese pizza and it arrives covered in pineapple, Domino's don't ask me why I wanted the cheese pizza, they apologise for sending the wrong one, ask if its acceptable, and if it isn't, get me a cheese pizza as soon as possible.
And the pizza people won't piss and moan, won't claim that I should be grateful for the pizza they've given me because they assume I am desperate for pizza and any pizza will do. If choice wasn't a central factor in their industry, they wouldn't have a catalogue or menu of pizza, they'd merely assign me a pizza based on their best judgement, send it out to me, and force me to eat it.
The metaphor may be a little thin, but then I had a pizza last night.
Addendum: Domino's just called. They said I could start eating a cheese pizza on Thursday.