Diary 11th And 12th March 2019

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Monday 11th March 2019 Not a great deal of activity today, though I did walk to the community centre in a rare spell of sunshine between long periods of horrid weather. I used the scanner there to edit up lots of old photos from the pre-digital camera era of my life. They include this one of me standing at a signboard pointing to the birth place and the museum as if they represent me. They actually represent poet Robert Burns. Back home I got a phone interview with a sales company who invited me in tomorrow for an interview. I also got a letter from a pub and beer campaign group who like the preview edition of my book that I sent them for review purposes. They are reviewing it for their monthly magazine, which reaches over 190,000 subscribers (not including myself at present). If they give me a good review it could really boost my sales when my book launches in five weeks time. Tuesday 12th March 2019 The interview was not great, though the manager of the sales company was friendly enough. I had to shout through a really bad intercom in a freezing howling gale to get him to let me in. He invited me to come through the electric lock door but it wouldn’t budge for me so he had to come down and fetch me. He talked of selling over very long hours, up to 10pm at night, which I disliked the idea of. However when he saw that I am a writer, he started suggesting that I could do some copywriting for him, helping create video ads. While it sounded good initially I realized he seemed to be making it up as he went along, and doesn’t really have any staff in such a role already. He invited me to either work from home or come in for a few hours a week. I asked about contracts, paperwork, income arrangements, all of which he showed no interest in answering. He asked me how I felt about talking to people in a Canadian accent, as most of their work is with Canadian customers. I told him I don’t do a Canadian accent. He vaguely promised to send me some of his literature and talk with me again. My interview spoke really slowly, often with long embarrassing silences between words. I wondered what he was tripping on. I will be quite glad not to work for him. I just don’t trust his half-baked plans for me one bit. Arthur Chappell