For hire

I'm great at interviews.

Shite at jobs.

Four this year's my latest news.

Three month probabation.

I harbour fear.

What if they hate me the Paul's the John's the Dave's the Rob' s.

For nine years now I've told my wife.

I'm not made for this corporate life.

The stress is crippling

The colleagues C**ts!

The pressures tripling.

It's them not you.

I've told myself.

I must move on.

For my own health.

Nine years, six jobs, five managers and one bully.

His name was Gordon.

The start of it all.

Calm, cool and collected.

So laid back I was horizontal.

Not now I panic and scare and run.

I'm good at what I do but I can't relax.

I can't make sense of the basic facts.

So I'll move again old job for new.

Cause I always kill it in an interview.