The Going Gets Tough

It has been about a week and a half since I upped and moved all I had to the city of London. I have to keep reminding myself that a week and a half is not long enough to judge anything by, and that although I would love nothing more right now than to pack my stuff and move right back up to York, that I told myself it would be hard. I said to myself (hell, I said to everyone) that it will be tough, that I wasn't kidding myself into thinking it might be easy, that I would have to work through a lot to get anywhere, and now I have to say that to myself again. That a week is not a long time. That it will get harder before it gets easier. And I know that's true. And that scares me.

But what good is complaining? Now more than ever I have to take my own advice, I have to put everything in perspective, I need to straighten out my tangled thoughts and ideas.

What can I say for certain right now? Well, I have a job. It may be a job I have never done before, one which I have had no previous direct experience, and a job whose workers I have scorened in the past, but a job nonetheless. And I'm enjoying it. Sort of. OK, I won't lie, today was rubbish, yesterday was no fun whatsoever, but Monday was brilliant! Unfortunately one good day doesn't make a good job. Or a good employee. Targets are never something I've wanted to work towards. OK, that's a lie, I love targets.
Back in the theatre, targets were a monthly financial intake, something we had a small amount of direct control over, but which in the end was down to the number of customers and shows we had. Here, targets are much simpler. Sign up this many people every week. Doesn't sound hard. in a five-day week the target is seven sign-ups. And they make it sound easy, even enticing - every sign-up after those seven grants you a bonus! If signed up just two people every day, I would be rolling in it! Trouble is that it isn't always that easy.

Last week I got two sign-ups in three days. I was OK with that, I was new, I was getting my head around it, I set the bar at a reasonable level. On Monday I got two sign-ups and was thrilled. This was going to be my week! Come Tuesday I was bouncing, smiling at everyone, confident that another signup would be coming my way. Now it's Thursday; I still have two sign-ups for the week. It could just be the area, it could just be bad luck, but I can't help thinking about whether I really want to be doing this job.

And then one shift turns everything on its head. Tonight I managed to get three sign-ups and all in quick succession. If I'm honest, I feel elated. I've proven beyond most doubt that everything boils down to luck; today I was very lucky. The odds ran in my favour, doors quite literally opened to me and people openly offered their support. I barely had to introduce myself to a towelled man before he invited me inside while he ran to put some clothes on.. all right that sounds odd but for an eager donation of £10 a month I wasn't going to complain if he'd come back down in a full gimp suit. But luck is still the prevailing force here, save for possible devine intervention, and I remember days at the hotel which were wonderful, when I would leave smiling, but looking back on the overall experience: it was crap. I'm not saying this is going to be a crap job, but I won't let one excellent day pull the rose-coloured wool over my eyes. This is a tough job, and if I want to keep it I will have to be brilliant at it.

So that's what I've been up to for the past couple of weeks. Not very exciting, I know, but what did you expect? I have a full time job and I'm still searching for a room. I've got some viewings tomorrow so if any of them blow me away I will take it immediately. To be honest if any of them seem habitable I'll take them right away.. beggars and choosing after all.

The Journey Begins in Earnest

Tuesday was relaxed, and spent mainly in Canterbury wondering the city and having a lovely cooked lunch. The highlight of the day came conveniently between the main meal and dessert when my phone rang. I recognized the number as London but had no idea who it was.

I crossed my fingers as I answered.

But since this is a blog rather than a short story I'm not going to go through the whole conversation. To cut it short, I've been offered the opportunity to get a job as a door-to-door fundraiser. I passed the initial interview and pending two days of training I should be knocking on doors in no time. The pay is good, the hours suit me and the company seems great so here's hoping! Now all I need is to secure that room.

Ended Up Being A Rather Relaxed Day

Well it is often said that the best layed plans of mammals small and large often end up veering from their original goal. Day 1 in London seemed to prove this proverbial rule. Not that anything went wrong.

The day started early. Far too early for my liking, but the option to choose when my lift to the station - Charlotte's dad - would leave the house was not in my hands. As such we arrived in Seven Sisters around 8am and fortunately had managed to contact an occupant of a flat which had advertised a cheap room in the area. I was instantly taken with the warehouse flat/commercial circus space, with its slightly dilapidated appearance, very hungover but still incredibly friendly (especially for such an ungodly hour) occupants which include two cats.

The room is being 'built' this weekend - a real brick wall is being put up, rather than the current makeshift divide comprised of bookshelves and curtains, so moving in may be slightly delayed.

After that we met the ever-wonderful James for a late breakfast at Starbucks before I had to dash off to my first interview of the day, with a recruitment agency, Evolution Recruitment working on behalf of Shelter. It was an informal interview with me, two other applicants and an agency worker. It didn't exactly fill me with hope or inspiration, but that's probably for the better.

After lunch in a park and arranging a 4pm room viewing in Stratford I headed to my second interview at Home Fundraising. I knew nothing about them and assumed they were another recruitment agency, but it quickly became evident that there were quite a few differences. First off, they knew how to engage with the room of 11 interviewees and how to learn almost everything about us within about 10 minutes. The whole thing took about an hour and a half, so by the time I got out my phone was dead and there was no chance of getting to the last room viewing. So we went shopping.

The highlight of the day was the evening at the theatre, seeing my good friend Martin Barass perform in One Man, Two Governors alongside Rufus Hound. A tremendous show, but I shall save reviews for a different blog. When its been written, you'll be able to find it here.

The Busiest of Days

Tomorrow is my first day in London.

Well, sort of. Its a day of job interviews and room viewings crowbarred into a long weekend which was supposed to be a holiday.

How did I get here? Well, it starts back in April. I decided that staying in York for another year just wasn't going to get me anywhere and if I wanted to be serious about acting I would probably need to knuckle down and start looking seriously at Drama Schools. I stopped looking after I checked the fees.

Still, London is the place to be for actors aspiring or seasoned. So began a sweep of rooms and flats in the Greater London area. However looking in April for a move in July/August didn't look promising. The only email replies I received advised me to ask them in July, a few weeks before I was wanting to move.

So, disheartened, I ignored my plans, leaving them to future me.

Now future me has become present me, and is very stressed. But we're not at today just yet, past me did some good.

After I made the decision to move to London for certain I had two tasks: find a room, find a job. Easy!(er said than done).

To apply for jobs in London, you need a London postcode. To get a London postcode, you need a profession. The situation quickly became a Catch-22; I called up room advertisements, they asked me what my job was, I said I was looking for one, they put down the phone.

I was disheartened. I was upset, stress was rising and time was not slowing down. Time is like that. Ruthless. The key is not looking at it, getting on with what you have to do. After some reassuring pep talks I set to work. Acting jobs are few and far between, and not well advertised off subscription-based websites, however London as a city is teeming with opportunities if you're willing to move a little out of your comfort zone. Reed is a very useful website, for any type of job, and its completely free. I sent off quite a few CVs and was contacted by thee companies, two of which offered me interviews on Monday - the one day I have free.

But I couldn't sofa-surf for long, despite the various good friends who've offered me floor space in London. No, I needed my own bed, and after some help from the Yahoo! Answers community, I got to intoLondon.com, a very useful website with some very clever search features (I wanted a room in zones 1-3, preferably on the Victoria line. The website had hundreds.) Again, I winged off some emails and even a few texts to my favourite choices and hey presto: I managed to get some room viewings for Monday!

So. Tomorrow is going to be my busiest day. Two interviews. At least two houses. And a West End show in the evening. Should be fun!