You'd think I'd have learned by now.
You'd think I would've gotten tired of poetic justice slapping me upside the head for all my dramatics and would've just learned...
...to be careful what I wish for.
No sooner do I put down the book I was reading during the camping trip, climb out of an epson salt bath that was supposed to be healing my back, make a mental note to thank Steven for one of the best books I've read in a while, say yes to an interview with a Startup company doing RSA drivers for their software, say yes to an interview with Cognicase who does fuck-knows-what...
And send my CV to some random company that "heard about the dramatic restructurization at Gemplus" and had requested it.
Fifteen minutes later we're setting up an interview for this morning, the HR director having memorized my resume, down to the clubs I belonged to when I lived in France.
Very charming man, Mr. Bearegard, for someone who looks like he sleeps in his tie.
Half an hour into the interview this morning he asks me how soon I can leave.
To continute the work that I was doing with Gemplus, but for their company, in Paris.
Paris, France, not Paris, Ontario.
Y'know, the country that I've been yearning to move back to ever since I left three years ago.
We'll pay your flight, your cargo, your moving costs, rent you a furnished appartment there, take care of transportation costs for the first six weeks, and you were making how much at Gemplus? Really? Oh dear, we can't leave you at that... And of course you're all right with five weeks of vacation a year? You're familiar with the work ethic? Of course, you've been there before, and you really seem to have enjoyed it, is that so? Well now, we'd love to have you, of course, how soon was it you said that you'd have your affairs in order so you could leave? Oh don't worry about a work Visa, we cover that, and the contract is one year minumum but after that we can move you to London or New York or the office opening up in Germany, and of course if you stay with us for longer than three years we will sponsor your french citizenship and and and and...
Whoa, slow down.
They have a dress code, my earrings would have to go, eighteen of the twenty of them, but the nosering is okay, and we might be able to work something out if I wear smaller piercings.
No more pink hair.
I was going to go back to school.
I mention this to Philippe, who I stopped by to visit this afternoon, to ask his permission to give as a reference...
"Of course you can do a Master's degree there! They're even better about corporate degrees, you know, all the schools do part-time graduate education..."
Oh.
The interview with Cognicase is tomorrow, and the startup interview yesterday consisted of four guys sitting around a table drooling over -- and this is still unclear -- either my OpenBSD t-shirt or my breasts outlined by the BSD demon.
I miss people already, and I haven't even seen the formal offer, finished my interviews, or decided on a job.
Paris.
Montmartre. I always wanted to tell stories at Montmartre.
And one of my best friends from school out there is living in Paris now, looking for a roommate/juggling partner...
Cognicase is an impressive company. They'll be doing something with smartcards too, right?