But of course, the whole shebang had to be a mistake. It was from the start, when I my friend offered the gig. Being a gathering of semi-illiterate Brazilians being pushed and shoved and shouted at by a dude (not Brazilian - who knows where he was from) with self-importance issues, delegating irrelevant orders while seizing his employees shoulders like they were little gypsy children who didn't quite comprehend the robbery lesson - of course it wouldn't work. As soon as I arrived, I felt a little impulse to do a little U-turn and break free from that hellish scenario, but my inner boss told me to be cool and get through this. What a nightmare. Five hours standing up at the entrance of the place with a bitter cold wind blowing in our faces. My joints ached, but not as much as my pride for being treated like all the other airheads who had as much self-respect as they had appropriate vocabulary (and English was their native language). Don't get me started on the show itself, which I only managed to get a glimpse of. A parade of frightfully pumped-up and oiled "beauties", desperately competing for a return ticket to Brazil - or most probably a one-way ticket home, as I bet a great deal of them would not be able to afford a "return" to the UK for financial AND legal constraints.
I was peeved last night and made sure some people knew it. Determined not to go back, I sat down this morning to write an email to the organiser stating my claim (and asking for the money owed to me for such a torture), when there it was, in my inbox 9 o'clock in the morning, an email from said person: "thank you so much 4 last night i did not see u when you don any way i am going to pay you 4 lat night and i do not need you work from next week my girl friend will do the job 4 me."
So to finish it off in style, I got sacked. From a job I didn't even wanted, by a person who can't even write an email.
It made my day.