I *probably* have a job. Now I hope you are comfy, cos I am going to tell you all about it.

On Tuesday night a mate of mine phoned me.

"Treen!" he said. "Hi! How are you? There's this ad in the paper - a Ringwood company looking for a proofreader... You interested?"

Now, up until that moment I didn't know I was looking for work. I thought I was just going to stay home and be motherly, you know? But hey, I found I *was* interested, told him so, accepted the name and number from the ad, thanked him and called.

Helen (the lady running the ad) had gone home - well, it *was* 10 to 5, so I have no problem with that  - and the receptionist took my details.

The next day we were at Werribee Open Range Zoo - It's a *lovely* place, they take you around in a bus and look at giraffes and stuff - and the phone rang. 

I'd been worried Helen would call while I was driving, but she kindly waited till I was staring vacantly at some zebras and actually had both hands free, and my diary and pen close at hand. We chatted a little - she asked me if I'd done proofing before, I told her I had, but never for money, and she gave my the address and an appointment to come in the next day at half past twelve. While I was on the phone to her I was quite collected, amiable and amusing. And when I hung up I went all thingy. My belly went squicky and my breathing just went. 

You see, I have had no official paid work in 10+ years.

I had no idea how to conduct myself at a job interview, or anything. And while I'd written plenty of CVs for friends, I had none for myself, and no real idea about how to go about writing such blatant personal advertising about *myself*

So I spent Wednesday night online with a friend who writes resumes, and ended up with a very nice (but shockingly immodest) piece of writing all about how wonderful and fabulous I am.

I was almost late for the interview.

Mum wanted me to have my hair "set," but I declined on the grounds of not being 79 years old. I did agree to have my hair done by the hairdresser though. So it was about 11.15 and Dean the kids and I were sitting in the hairdresser's when my turn came.

"I don't want a cut, thanks. Just make it look nice. I'm on the way to a job interview"

She smiled and nodded.

She wrapped a towel around me and combed my hair.

She lifted a hank of hair and made "Shall I cut here?" motions with her hand, the way they do.

"No," I said, "I don't want it cut. Just brushed and put up."

She smiled and nodded again.

She picked up a hank of hair and moved her fingers down close to my scalp.

"Very short?" she asked.

It was only then I realised the woman had almost no English at all. I picked up her scissors. I moved them far away from me. I covered them with my hands. I said "No! No!" and shook my head vigorously. 

She looked at me as if I were insane.

I pointed to the brush and to the hairdryer and nodded hard.

A look of revelation came over her face and she proceeded to do my hair in a way I am sure is very nice.... but not for me 

We left there just after 12, in Croydon still needing to get home, print my resume and two references and change my shoes and get to the place by half past.

I think Dean hit 90 in a 60 zone a couple of times.

We got there though. At 12.30 we were at a red light, and outside the office, so I leapt lightly out of the car and went inside.

Helen was on the telephone, which gave me a few minutes to collect myself and have a peppermint and then it was on.

I was amazed at how cool and calm and friendly I seemed. 

We went over the hours (10 - 10.30 Mondays, 11 - 3 Tuesdays) and money and whether my children would make it difficult for me, and the fact that since we live with my mother, it would *not* make it hard at all.

She told me there had been about 175 telephone applicants, and followed up rapidly with "I really wanted you to meet Rollie. Could you come in on Monday for a few hours to meet everyone, and see how we go?"

I assured her I could and she said she would call me today to arrange it.

And she just did.

I will be spending Monday from 10.30 to 3.30 in a real place of work with real people, earning money ( well, maybe not earning money for a "trial" day, but what the heck? :)) instead of tramping round Sovereign Hill with my littles as I planned to be.

And I'm as excited as all hell, and scared as well.