Carbon footprint

For all the talk of carbon footprints, saving the planet and hugging a tree, for all the adverts and government guidelines and green taxes and initiatives, nothing focuses the mind on energy saving quite like being unemployed.

With outgoings exceeding income, suddenly that light on in an unused room or tap running longer than needed feels as wasteful as lighting Havana cigars with fifty pound notes.

When I was doing up Croker Towers, I went through a bit of a lighting stage. Halogen downlighters were fitted, uplighters were sourced and tasteful table lamps purchased. Dimmers offered subtle shading and mood lighting became an obsession. And as the sun went down, Croker Towers would become a little haven of softly illuminated style and bliss. Yet as I sit and write this late at night only the desk light in my study burns, all other sources extinguished at the alter of cost.

I’ve even been carefully working out how short a period I can have the water heater on to supply my hot water needs. I never used to think about it before, just have it set to an hour each morning and evening, job done. Currently it’s running at half that.

I shave about once every three or four days (unless I’m seeing The Blonde, or attending an increasingly rare job interview). Saves water see? And whilst Gillette may well be the best a man can get, at a price fast approaching a million pounds a blade I can live with a few cost savings there too.

The Polite Hatchback only rolls off the drive once or twice a week, I walk most places now. A tank of diesel lasts me a month.

In fact, it sometimes makes me wonder whether the whole recession is one big eco conspiracy. Think about it, two and a half million people and rising currently economising like mad on fuel, energy, shopping and food. As green initiatives go, it’s a winner.

Actually I have a conspiracy theory about conspiracy theories too. Many of them are so clearly ridiculous that I sometimes wonder if they’re not put out there by “official sources” to hide those that are true. After all, what better way to discredit the real ones than to circulate lots of spurious ones that will be dismissed out of hand, and hope the genuine articles get flushed by the general public at the same time.

But as I say, it’s just a theory…

Back at BMW…

I’m through to the sales manager at BMW. Would there be any movement toward a decision yet, at all, per chance, perhaps, would there, maybe? I ask.

He’s very honest and very open with me. Seems I’m well in the running. However there’s a guy from Mercedes who’s in pole position, but for one snag. He wants more than they’re willing to offer and won’t settle for less, and they’re not going to budge. Seems the ball is in Mr. Mercedes court, if he’ll bend on the payscale then it sounds like the job is his. If he sticks to his guns then he’s off the playing field and it’s open season again. They’re meeting him again over the weekend with a view to nailing it down one way or the other.

“Sorry I can’t be more specific than that” says my man from BMW, “but that’s the situation at the moment and of course I’ll let you know as soon as I do”. Fair enough, I can’t ask for any more than that, the nail biting will just have to go on a little longer, although I’m up to my wrists already and my watch keeps falling off. I’m well aware that, in the short term at least, this is the last chance (BMW) saloon. With MINI gone it’s this or the dole queue for a bit longer. Or maybe a lot longer…

I put the phone down and scan through the on line job sites again, but there’s nothing leaping out at me.

Come on BMW I mutter, I need this now.

A MINI phone call.

At 10am on Friday morning my mobile finally shrills into life. Fumbling for it i shakily hit “answer”. “H-hello, Charlie Croker speaking?” It’s The Blonde, wanting to know if I’ve heard anything yet. “Get off the bloody phone woman!!” I scream. In my head. I politely give her the no news verdict and place the phone back on my desk beside me. Two minutes later it rings again. “What does she want now?” I sigh to myself before answering its strident call. It’s MINI.

In fact the Dealer Principle of MINI no less. is that a good thing? I guess I’m about to find out.

A little preamble, great to meet on Tuesday, very impressed, just the sort of chap they’re looking for, think I’d be perfect for the job. Yes? Yes? Go on!

As were two others they talked to. “We’d happily give the job to any of the three of you in a heartbeat” he goes on, “but sadly of course we could only pick one”.

It’s not going to be me is it, I think.

And I’m right, it isn’t.

He’s genuinely apologetic and I believe him when he tells me how sorry he is that he couldn’t take me on this time. Could he keep my details in case anything changes? Absolutely of course I respond. We talk a moment or two longer, I stress that if anything comes up in the future I’d be delighted to be considered and then the call ends.

Bugger.

Bugger!

I really wanted that job and whilst he could just have been being polite, I really do think it was a very close call between the top three. But as much as I try and instill upon myself the positive slant that it was great to get that close, the sad truth is there is no second place, only win or lose. And I lost.

Still nothing from BMW either, five days after they promised to call me “within a couple of days”.

Sod it, I’m going to call them right now.

The silence of the dealers.

By Thursday evening I’ve taken to staring at my mobile phone trying to physically will it to ring.

Both BMW and MINI said they’d be in touch within “a couple of days”. I’ve heard nothing from either. But that’s good right? That means I’ve not been discounted yet. Right? Right…? Ring, phone, ring dammit!!

The editor’s been in touch though, my article has been rejected, it’s not what he had in mind. Fair enough, he’s the boss, although his guidance for a re-write seems to me to be slightly at odds with his original request. Not to worry, it’s up to me to create something that blows his skirt up so it’s back to the drawing board for that one. He’s sending me some product reviews to have a go at downsizing for the Internet however, so maybe that’ll come to something.

The Blonde has been in touch too. Seems the pork chops didn’t kill her and I’ve a reciprocal invitation to Blonde Towers for big eats at the weekend.

Just need that call now and life will be sweet.

The morning after

It’s the morning after the day before (and the day before that!). I’m sat in my study at home toying with my mobile phone, urging it to ring.

I mull over the experience of the previous two days for the thousandth time. I’m sure I made a very strong showing on both occasions, I feel confident that I presented a very good case for myself and that both parties were impressed. I’ve no regrets or should’ves bothering me, I know it went well both times.

Working for BMW would be fantastic, a more interesting and up market range of cars, and a much bigger showroom in a much larger catchment area all boding well for high earning potential. And yet, and yet. The MINI showroom is much closer to home, the smaller set up felt far more personal and personable, the cars are much more of a unique product in the marketplace, and my product knowledge was already very strong with MINI.

The MINI job was The One for me I felt, the BMW a superb consolation prize should I be offered it if the MINI vacancy turned out to be a bust. Trouble was the BMW interview was first, and BMW were only interviewing three compared to MINI’s six, so chances were I’d hear from BMW sooner.

Logic dictates that I should simply grab the first job offered (if indeed I were offered either in the first place), but I really wanted that MINI position. I spoke to a good friend and mentor who’s been coaching me through my job hunting endeavours. He suggested that I grab the BMW job if it were offered, and then turn it down if MINI come up trumps afterward. Sound logic, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree to a job and then reject it, my word is my bond and all that.

I decided that if BMW called I’d let it go to answerphone and then give MINI a ring to see what the score was there before calling BMW back. If they were still undecided I’d grab the BMW position and not look back. The priority is simply to get a job, and the BMW position is more than just a job in any case.

Right now though, my Nokia was remaining resolutely silent. Still, no news is good news. Right..?

A Mini interview!

The very next day I’m off to MINI for my other interview. I feel a little less fractious today having got my first ever interview (in twenty years) out of the way but still far from relaxed.

Leaving the Polite Hatchback marooned in a sea of primary coloured MINI Clubmans, Coopers and Convertibles I head into the showroom at the allotted hour, looking the part and ready to rock.

Same drill, I give my name to the pretty receptionist (brunette this time, still slim though, do they not feed receptionists?) and wait in the customer waiting area trying to concentrate on the riveting MINI finance brochure that seems to make up the only reading matter. But there the similarity ended.

After 10 minutes I’m summoned by the sales manager to his office where the general manager waits for us both. Immediately it feels a little more relaxed and friendly, the sales manager conducting the interview with the general manager merely interjecting a little now and then.

I’m told about the dealership, what their catchment area is, what they expect to sell a month, a little of how they operate. I try and ask a couple of what I hope are intelligent and considered questions.

Then in a complete reversal of the previous days experience they hand the floor over to me and sit there pretty much in silence for what must have been thirty minutes but felt like a day whilst I give them a full rundown of my history, my experience, my interest in cars, why I think I’d be good for the job, just talk talk talk. And with no feedback it’s so hard to judge the pace. Am I waffling? Is all this totally relevant? What bits should I be concentrating on? What do they need to hear? Am I leaving anything vital out?

When I finish they thank me very much and that really is about it! A little small talk and I’m out of there. Couldn’t be more different from the previous days experience.

Back in the Polite Hatchback I sit for a short while mulling over the last forty five minutes. I realise they’ve been quite clever really, letting me make the sale and judging me on that, after all, that’s what they want, someone who can make that sale, close the deal. I think it went well though, running through it all in my mind I got in pretty much everything that needed to be said and they seemed genuinely interested. And more than that I liked them, both of them. I liked the set up, I liked the people, I’ve always liked the product, hell, I bought one. Well, I chose one, my last company bought it.

I fire up PH with a guttural diesel growl and nose out of the car park and off the forecourt reluctantly. I’d be happy with BMW, truly I would, but I want this job.

Really really want it.

The BMW interview.

It’s the day of the interview and I’m suited, booted, and sat in a carpark just up the road from the showroom. My fear of being late see’s me here a good half hour before kick off and I’m fighting my nerves and trying not to sweat. It’s not a hot day but the air con fans me with gentle waves of cooling air from the dash vents as I go through my CV one more time to make sure I can remember all the features and benefits of the product I’m pitching for sale. Me.

The sweep secondhand of my expensive Swiss watch (not a day for a Swatch today) rotates oh so slowly round the dial. 29 minutes…

Eventually my watch reads five minutes to go and I slot The Polite Hatchback into gear and ease gently down the road toward BMW, swinging onto the forecourt and slotting into a space alongside a new black 6 Series coupe. This is it then, deep breaths.

I climb out, plip the central locking and stride toward the entrance. Positive, head high, confident. Looking good. On the outside anyway. In the showroom I’m greeted by a very slim but otherwise very attractive blonde at reception. I give my name and the person I’ve come to see and she gestures me toward a small comfortable customer waiting area in the centre. I sit on a black leather couch and in a futile attempt at nonchalance pick up a 7 Series brochure. My eyes are scanning the words but nothings going in. Pictures are pretty though. Five minutes later I’m approached by a friendly looking chap who turns out to be the sales manager I’d spoken with on the phone. He greets me warmly and escorts me upstairs to the boardroom to meet The Boss. This is it then, showtime.

The boardroom is a quiet, gently lit, modern room, pastel shades and sparingly furnished with just a centrally placed large light oak table, perhaps a dozen or so chairs around it and a matching light oak sideboard against one wall. The Dealer Principle greets me, an older chap, laid back in manner but keen eyes, I get the sense this guy doesn’t miss much. We all take a seat, me facing them both around the corner of the table and the questions start.

How long have I been in sales? What sort of customer am I used to dealing with? What successes have I had? What sort of customer volumes am I used to dealing with? What happened to my last job? How long have I been looking? Why BMW? How do I think I’d cope with the change of product from what I’ve been used to? Some slightly more obscure questions, how would they know if I were happy? How would they know if I were unhappy? What was I intending to do if I couldn’t land the sort of job I wanted? I parried question after question as well as I could, duck and weave, keep smiling, keep talking, keep positive, engage engage. I felt I was doing ok, keeping my head above water. The sales manager was clearly on side, the dealer principle equally clearly had big issues about my lack of motor trade experience and I did my best to focus on positive responses to his concerns, I’m a blank canvas, no previous bad habits to unlearn, clean sheet start, keen and able to adopt and adapt to their processes.

It was an intense experience and overran by 15 minutes which was either good (they wanted to keep talking to me so were clearly interested) or bad (they couldn’t convince themselves I was up to it) But as suddenly as it began it was over and it was smiles and handshakes and “we’ll be in touch”es and I was out.

The sales manager escorted me back downstairs. I wanted to ask how he thought I’d done but figured that would be unprofessional so a last firm handshake, smile and eye contact and I was out, collapsing back into the Polite Hatchbak, loosening my tie and getting the hell out of there, quitting whilst I was (hopefully) ahead.

Fingers crossed.

The driveby.

It’s the Sunday before my interviews and The Blonde is coming to dinner. I’ve stayed schtum about the BMW interview to most people, some weird superstition that if I tell everyone then it won’t happen. I’ve told The Blonde though.

I’ve got a strange urge to visit the showroom prior to the interview. I know where it is but I tell myself that I need to see the place beforehand, scout it out, learn the lie of the land. I’ve got a family event on the Sunday but there’s an hour or two spare afterwards. I text The Blonde and see if she’s up for a run over to the showroom before dinner. She’s game.

I collect her in the Polite Hatchback and we spear off up the motorway toward the nearby city where this particular BMW dealership is located. Swinging through the industrial estate I spy the plate glass palace awash with shiny new metal.

We park, disembark, and stroll through the forecourt my eyes lighting up at the proliferation of sleek executive expresses laid out about us, over to the showroom where we press our noses to the window. Inside is a delicious new convertible with the roof down, looking so good I want to lick it. The Blonde asks what it is and I explain that it’s the new Z4. She asks how I know and I joke that I know everything about cars. She points to the legend “the new Z4” emblazoned in large letters upon the rear numberplate. She’s not daft.

We complete our lap of the showroom and head back to my car. Just as we’re leaving I spot it, a mid grey metallic 3 Series coupe, big alloys, black leather and a sunroof. My car. It turns out to be an M3, perhaps that’s a tad ambitious!

Heading home we chat about the job, it has my name written all over it, I can feel it.

The evening passes in a blur of fine dining (pork chops, the house speciality) and good conversation, and The Blonde is whisked home at a timely hour. I return to peruse the automotive pronography that is bmw.co.uk, all in the name of research I tell myself.

I sleep well Sunday night, I’ve a good feeling about this job, and an even better feeling about The Blonde…

A Mini Adventure

Dear Mr Croker
We are holding interviews next Tuesday and Wednesday and would like to arrange a mutually convenient appointment to discuss further your application. These would be first interviews and would envisage initially them to be for approximately 40 minutes in which we would like you to present to myself and Dave Blackberry, Sales Manager why you would be the ideal candidate for the position.
If you could please contact Kat Hew on 01234 567890 to arrange an appointment

The very next day another interview request! I am on fire! MINI this time, fantastic cars, I ran a Cooper S for a while. Great dealership too, and much more local than the BMW job.

This is absolutely unbelievable!!

The call.

I’m halfway through my dinner when my mobile shrills the gaudy ringtone of Austin Powers communicator in his Shaguar. Yes, I was so bored I really did record it off the telly one day and download it as my phone ringtone.

Fork paused halfway to my mouth I consider letting it go to answerphone but, well, you never know.

Grabbing the phone I answer it and find myself speaking to the sales manager of a BMW dealership. Yes he got my application for their Sales Executive vacancy, yes he likes my CV, and he’s currently going through the top ten applicants and giving them a ring with a view of whittling it down to three to interview.

OH. MY. GOD!!!

We talk, he tells me about the job, I tell him about my career history, we chat some more, joke a little, we get on. Frankly, we’re talking the same language. At the end of a half hour call that he seems genuinely sorry to have to close he invites me to the dealership next Monday for a formal interview with the Dealer Principle and himself. Could I be there at 2:30pm? I’m sure I could manage that, and thank you very much. The call ends.

YES!!!!!

YES YES YES YES!!

I’ve been applying for many different car brands from Peugeot to Proton. Sales is my bag and cars are my great interest, so what could be better than combining the two?

But BMW!? Fan-bloody-tastic!!!!!

Mustn’t get too excited, mustn’t get too excited, early days now, deep breaths, calm, calm…

I wonder what sort of company car I’d get with them? BMW obviously, but which model? I could just see a 3 Series coupe parked out front in place of the Polite Hatchback. Black leather, sunroof, dark tinted glass, ohh baby.

Stop it! For goodness sake man you’ve not even got to the interview yet and you’re choosing your car now? Have a word with yourself.

I return to my cold dinner and chew thoughtfully.

Yes, mid grey metallic with big alloys. Perfect.