Having lived in Manchester for 3 years I was incredibly happy. Gone was the after taste from the experience of ‘the girl’. Myself, Dazzles, DVC and Rossotron were a tight nit group. The family was becoming like a Mafioso or a Columbian cartel. We did everything together and I started to enjoy the city I knew I loved. I started to enjoy everything. As mummy would always say “everything happens for a reason”, those words echoed through me and little did I know that fate had another instalment lined up for me. Another addition to the family.
At the time I was in a new job, it was exciting yet still daunting. Every new job comes with the excitement of a fresh challenge but also with the uncertainty of whether you can handle it. I had also fully furnished my new apartment after about 18months. To be truthful on the matter, Mummy had fully furnished my apartment. When I moved in all I had was a washing machine and fridge I bought straight away (you need clean clothes and food, unavoidable). That left me little bum room for anything else. My television was on sat on the box it came in. The living room had a beanbag. My bedroom had a blow-up mattress. It remained that way for at least 3 months. No one tells you all the furniture you have to buy when you own your own house. It didn’t help that I had always rented a fully furnished house so had nothing of my own. Fast forward 18 months and I was finally in a very comfortable place in my life, good friends, nicely furnished apartment and a great new job. It was all going along far too nicely right?
One day in work I received a Facebook message from an unknown recipient named ‘Glinda’, named so due to her good nature an mutual love of all things Wicked. Glinda messaged me asking me if she could transfer her job to Manchester. She had worked for the company before and actually worked with one of my line manager in Ireland. His mummy was also my sisters boss and would love to continue to work there as he had recently finished University. Ballsy right? I remember thinking ‘this bitch has some guts’. It so happened I did have a vacancy and thought, why not give him a change. If he isn’t up to scratch I can always turn him down. I told him to come into the shop and I would interview him. Behind the scenes I rang for references as I always like to be prepared. Anyone who knows me knows I never walk into a situation I’m not usually fully armed for. Probably the guard again however in a professional capacity it actually comes in handy.
The recruitment lady rang me up and I will never forget what she said to me;
“Their is a young gentleman here to be interviewed by yourself Michael…. and he’s really hot. If I was younger I totally would be in love with him.”
Ill be the judge of that I thought.
I walked up to meet him in our coffee shop. He was sat down however immediately got up to shake my hand. Great first move on Glinda’s part as I am a stickler for good manners, Mummy taught me well. Smartly dressed too, not too formal but he had a shirt and tie. The worst mistake in any interviews I’ve done is walking into a room and someone in a tracksuit is slouched on their seat…. Great first impression…. unfortunately all the positions have been filled! Glinda was tall, tanned (I would later find out it was ‘enhanced’) and had long pirates of the Caribbean Jack sparrow hair. He actually looked like a clean and sober Jack sparrow without the eyeliner. We casually chatted about what he did at university and how long he had worked for the company in Ireland. After a 15 minute chat I had made up my mind, it was time to give him a chance. Welcome aboard Jack…. I mean Glinda!
I remember thinking at the time that he had the funniest little laugh I had ever heard. It was kind of like if Super Mario and a parrot combined their DNA. It was rather endearing. He also had the most amazing Californian/Belfast twang of an accent I had ever heard. My fathers side of the family are all from Belfast so I grew up listening to the accent. Also My two Best Gal Pals at University were from Belfast. Mummy used to say when I came home from the weekend I sounded like I was from the Shankel road, I would always adopt accents rather accidently. This particular dialect of Belfastionian was neither south, east, west or north… well maybe East… East LA.
Mummy would grow to love that laugh, the accent and that boy like her own son.
But more on that tomorrow xo
A Grievers Guide to the Galaxy 