Sunday 5 April 2009
Monday 23 March 2009
Third interview nerves are killing me.
Well I reached the next and last stage of the interview process and I’m more nervous than I was for either of the previous two because at this stage all I can do is mess it up! I’m thinking I might just keep my mouth shut and nod occasionally. Or at the most restrict my answers to no more than thirty second responses.
Also I’ve completely run out of original questions to ask. I’ve got, “Did you choose the decor yourself?” and “Where do you get your hair cut?” left.
So the three tips for a third interview are,
Say as little as possible
Always keep your trousers on
And, no matter how right it might feel to wear your regular clothes, you know, to show them a bit of the real you! Don’t. Always wear the interview suit as it’s a sort of deflector shield.
I’m putting all my eggs into one basket and I keep trying not to. I’m also spending money as if I’ve probably got a job and I haven’t. That said, a friend told me I might as well spend like I’ve got a job tomorrow because, come tomorrow, I might not! It made sense at the time.
Third interview nerves are killing me.
Also I’ve completely run out of original questions to ask. I’ve got, “Did you choose the decor yourself?” and “Where do you get your hair cut?” left.
So the three tips for a third interview are,
Say as little as possible
Always keep your trousers on
And, no matter how right it might feel to wear your regular clothes, you know, to show them a bit of the real you! Don’t. Always wear the interview suit as it’s a sort of deflector shield.
I’m putting all my eggs into one basket and I keep trying not to. I’m also spending money as if I’ve probably got a job and I haven’t. That said, a friend told me I might as well spend like I’ve got a job tomorrow because, come tomorrow, I might not! It made sense at the time.
Third interview nerves are killing me.
Wednesday 18 March 2009
Second interview angst is killing me
A man is shipwrecked on a desert island. He builds a raft using the last of the resources at hand, one that is sturdy enough to brave the seas and get him rescued. He spends all his time and energy building the raft but recognises soon it will be too heavy for him to lift so he heaves it down to the water’s edge. He erects a mast and even turns a washed up shirt into a flag to put atop. He can visualise his escape from the island and he can taste the salt air. All he needs is for tomorrow to pile on supplies of smoked meats and fish, and bottles of fresh water that will sustain him for up to two weeks and eventual rescue.
In the night he dreams a huge wave comes in and snatches the raft from him. He holds on to the thick guide rope and buries the soles of his feet in the wet sand but the raft is too heavy and the rope too slippery and he can’t hold on. He gives it one last inhuman effort but alas the raft is taken by the ruthless ocean. The storm rages around him and he falls to his knees pounded by rain. He watches hopelessly as his salvation drifts off into the night, until finally it disappears into the darkness.
The same is true of a final interview. You have invested so much in getting to the final stage that you can almost reach out and touch the salary, benefits and everything else that goes with regular employment. And at the same time you know it can all be snatched from you by a simple act of nature – maybe the CEO doesn’t see you as a fit for the company or one of the interviewers is in a bad mood.
I’ll tell you how it goes sometime after tomorrow. I hope I will wake and my raft will be there waiting to carry me to salvation. I have a second interview and hope to make it to the third and final interview stage. I am building my raft of research and tethering it together with strands of knowledge. I can only hope it is sturdy enough and that nature doesn’t decide to screw me over.
This second interview angst is killing me.
In the night he dreams a huge wave comes in and snatches the raft from him. He holds on to the thick guide rope and buries the soles of his feet in the wet sand but the raft is too heavy and the rope too slippery and he can’t hold on. He gives it one last inhuman effort but alas the raft is taken by the ruthless ocean. The storm rages around him and he falls to his knees pounded by rain. He watches hopelessly as his salvation drifts off into the night, until finally it disappears into the darkness.
The same is true of a final interview. You have invested so much in getting to the final stage that you can almost reach out and touch the salary, benefits and everything else that goes with regular employment. And at the same time you know it can all be snatched from you by a simple act of nature – maybe the CEO doesn’t see you as a fit for the company or one of the interviewers is in a bad mood.
I’ll tell you how it goes sometime after tomorrow. I hope I will wake and my raft will be there waiting to carry me to salvation. I have a second interview and hope to make it to the third and final interview stage. I am building my raft of research and tethering it together with strands of knowledge. I can only hope it is sturdy enough and that nature doesn’t decide to screw me over.
This second interview angst is killing me.
Monday 16 March 2009
Why we are where we are
If you have never watched Jon Stewart’s Daily show (on More 4 and repeated online) you really should. It can be schmaltzy and at times somewhat trite, and it isn’t always as funny as it is often touted to be, but then you will get some truly extraordinary piece of television like this (about 23 mins long and only for those in the UK, see below for further options):
http://www.channel4.com/catchup-player/player.htm?brandId=the-daily-show-with-jon-stewart&contractId=47591&episodeId=36
Jon Stewart, on previous shows leading up to this one, highlights the fact that financial channels such as CNBC are on the side of inflating the markets and are rarely interested in serious journalism exposing the corruption , neglect and mismanagement that has put us all in the position we are in right now – and the reason why it is so hard for me and millions of others to get a job. Families are being put to the sword and pensions are being lost and Jon Stewart, in this one magnificent interview, articulates the thoughts of everyone who is pissed off at the way the people operating the financial system have screwed us all over.
The link above will last for about 5 days but you will likely find it again on youtube (enter Jim Cramer Vs Jon Stewart) or on the Daily Show website at http://www.thedailyshow.com/
http://www.channel4.com/catchup-player/player.htm?brandId=the-daily-show-with-jon-stewart&contractId=47591&episodeId=36
Jon Stewart, on previous shows leading up to this one, highlights the fact that financial channels such as CNBC are on the side of inflating the markets and are rarely interested in serious journalism exposing the corruption , neglect and mismanagement that has put us all in the position we are in right now – and the reason why it is so hard for me and millions of others to get a job. Families are being put to the sword and pensions are being lost and Jon Stewart, in this one magnificent interview, articulates the thoughts of everyone who is pissed off at the way the people operating the financial system have screwed us all over.
The link above will last for about 5 days but you will likely find it again on youtube (enter Jim Cramer Vs Jon Stewart) or on the Daily Show website at http://www.thedailyshow.com/
Sunday 15 March 2009
Dry mouth syndrome is killing me
Well I’ve thead, th.., I nud u drunk water. Ahhhhh! Well I’ve said my piece and delivered evidenced and practical examples of the work I’ve done in previous roles. I feel I acquitted myself reasonably well in the interview except for one small problem, dry mouth syndrome! I don’t get outwardly nervous so my demeanour and voice are never affected by stress, I do however sweat like a fat man walking up a hill. If they had insisted I remove my jacket I would have had to claim my shirt was two-tone. I also get dry mouth syndrome, most likely as a result of my sieve like body.
Sure, it’s not a pleasant image, believe me I know, but the point is I should always have some water on hand and normally I do. The problem was they were late interviewing me and I was offered drinks on several occasions which I turned down. The receptionist offered, the person interviewing me popped out and asked if the receptionist had offered, then the second interviewer, on suggesting we begin the interview, offered again. Again I refused as I didn’t need one.
By the time I really did need a drink I felt I was so committed to not having one that to go back on it now would show me up as a flip-flopper. Flip flops can kill a Presidential candidate (see in particular John McCain’s ridiculed views on abortion http://www.thedailyshow.com/video/index.jhtml?videoId=184113&title=John-McCain:-Reformed-Maverick) so what would it do to me? NO. I set out my non-drink position early on and I was going to stick to it even though by the end I, and probably they, could hear my rough hewn sandpaper tongue scraping against the corrugated iron roof of my cave like mouth.
From now on I take my own supplies, bottle of water, prêt a manger sandwich and a transistor radio in case of Die Hard style interruptions. Maybe just the water.
Time will tell if I get called back for a second interview, or if my dry mouth has sabotaged my chances. This dry mouth syndrome is killing me.
Sure, it’s not a pleasant image, believe me I know, but the point is I should always have some water on hand and normally I do. The problem was they were late interviewing me and I was offered drinks on several occasions which I turned down. The receptionist offered, the person interviewing me popped out and asked if the receptionist had offered, then the second interviewer, on suggesting we begin the interview, offered again. Again I refused as I didn’t need one.
By the time I really did need a drink I felt I was so committed to not having one that to go back on it now would show me up as a flip-flopper. Flip flops can kill a Presidential candidate (see in particular John McCain’s ridiculed views on abortion http://www.thedailyshow.com/video/index.jhtml?videoId=184113&title=John-McCain:-Reformed-Maverick) so what would it do to me? NO. I set out my non-drink position early on and I was going to stick to it even though by the end I, and probably they, could hear my rough hewn sandpaper tongue scraping against the corrugated iron roof of my cave like mouth.
From now on I take my own supplies, bottle of water, prêt a manger sandwich and a transistor radio in case of Die Hard style interruptions. Maybe just the water.
Time will tell if I get called back for a second interview, or if my dry mouth has sabotaged my chances. This dry mouth syndrome is killing me.
Friday 13 March 2009
The anticipation is killing me
So it’s the day of the interview and I’m writing this to keep me calm and focused. I’ve done the research, I’ve memorised some key phrases and buzz words which I want to slip in if the going’s good. I’ve taken on board advice from friends and re-read a book on interview skills. Be humble but come across as a problem solver. Be humble. Humble. Penitent! Penitent man. Only the penitent man shall pass. Only the penitent man. Penitent man. THE PENITENT MAN IS HUMBLE IN THE EYE’S OF GOD!! DUCK!!! Wait, no, that’s Indiana Jones and the search for the holy grail.
So what next, after I finish this? Perhaps I should look at what jobs are out there. So I know my options. I can check the BBC website to see if they have gotten anywhere with my application. I bet they had hundreds of applications for the post. It’s important to have options available so I don’t get desperate and start crying at their shoes.
“Please, please, for god’s sake give me the job. I’ve only got one more individually catered pocket of porridge left and the car’s about to be repossessed – and I’ don’t even own a car! You bastards, you bastards are all the same with your shoes and your .. faces. I don’t mean it, I’m drunk. Oh lordy have mercy on this shattered man. Give us a job.”
The shoes are polished, the tie picked out and all that remains is for me to carefully pick words from my brain that give me the best chance of getting the job. Actually I need to link those words into coherent sentences or it could all go wrong.
Thorough. Punctual. Incendiary. Taffy. Thanks. Bye.
So be humble and offer them a solution to their problems. They are looking for someone to fill the role and relieve a burden on them. All I have to do is show them I can be part of the solution and not another problem. I’ve been running interviews lately for someone to take the spare room in my flat. I’ve mentioned the search before. The truth is I was looking for someone who is not going to give me any problems. I could have gone with a riskier option and had someone who I couldn’t beat up, but I thought it best to go with the smaller guy. Of course I’m joking, sort of.
Right on with it. Wish me luck. The anticipation is killing me.
So what next, after I finish this? Perhaps I should look at what jobs are out there. So I know my options. I can check the BBC website to see if they have gotten anywhere with my application. I bet they had hundreds of applications for the post. It’s important to have options available so I don’t get desperate and start crying at their shoes.
“Please, please, for god’s sake give me the job. I’ve only got one more individually catered pocket of porridge left and the car’s about to be repossessed – and I’ don’t even own a car! You bastards, you bastards are all the same with your shoes and your .. faces. I don’t mean it, I’m drunk. Oh lordy have mercy on this shattered man. Give us a job.”
The shoes are polished, the tie picked out and all that remains is for me to carefully pick words from my brain that give me the best chance of getting the job. Actually I need to link those words into coherent sentences or it could all go wrong.
Thorough. Punctual. Incendiary. Taffy. Thanks. Bye.
So be humble and offer them a solution to their problems. They are looking for someone to fill the role and relieve a burden on them. All I have to do is show them I can be part of the solution and not another problem. I’ve been running interviews lately for someone to take the spare room in my flat. I’ve mentioned the search before. The truth is I was looking for someone who is not going to give me any problems. I could have gone with a riskier option and had someone who I couldn’t beat up, but I thought it best to go with the smaller guy. Of course I’m joking, sort of.
Right on with it. Wish me luck. The anticipation is killing me.
Monday 9 March 2009
Looking for a flat mate is nearly killing me
Got no money, blah, blah, blah! Need to rent my spare room out, yada, yada, yada! So I’ve been looking for a tenant to share my home. I’m sure you can imagine the trauma involved in finding the right person. It’s a business deal but it’s also my home life. It’s extra cash but consider my sanity. Getting the right person can be something of a minefield. I think I have one but until the cash is in my hand I’m not going to get carried away.
Here’s the sort of thing you have to deal with, no additions, no editing. This guy sounds like a blast, no?
Cool guy looking for young virbrant houseshare
Hi, I will keep this a bit detailed so you know what you might get. I am 26 year old guy, very easy to get along with who is self employed and looking for a place in London with good transport links (24-7 bus service if possible). I work from home so spend lot of time on my computer but am sociable as well, I have a large selection of DVD's and CD's, a Wii and Xbox360, a 42" TV, Blu Ray player etc so the room I am in needs to be big enough to fit all this, and the room I am in needs to also come with a TV connection, internet and Sky connection, but as I said I am happy to socialise as well and only spend a lot of time in my room because it is my work, and while I like being on my own I like being with people as well. I love music and goto gigs as regulary as possible, like things from Rock n Roll to Indie to singer/songwriters and also finding good up and coming bands because tickets to see them are cheap! Love going to the pub as well. I also have a passion for foreign films and have tons of DVD's that include them (Over 600 DVD's and about same amount of CD's), so I have plenty of stuff you can borrow! I also support Liverpool so no Man Utd fans! (Just kidding). I do go out for all nighters sometimes so sometimes I can come back in the early hours, normally once/twice a week and normally on a weekend, but sometimes during the week (Rarely). I am not a professional, I am not a suit wearing guy, just a chilled guy who might look a bit rough and ready but am easy to get along with. I can provide references from the estate agents of where I currently live and would like a 3 monthish rolling contract (Maxium of 6 months, but not 12 month even tho I will likely stay longer then that it is just you never know with this economy what can happen) and I can pay upto £750 a month, perhaps more for the right place. I don't care if I share with male/female, gay/straight, black/white, etc etc, as long as you are cool, and would ideally prefer a few people in the house but will consider anything as long as you are fun but I also appreciate people have to work :) Ideally I'd like something for around Mid April onwards, I am in no rush to move so if it is something bit later in the year that is fine.
Here’s the sort of thing you have to deal with, no additions, no editing. This guy sounds like a blast, no?
Cool guy looking for young virbrant houseshare
Hi, I will keep this a bit detailed so you know what you might get. I am 26 year old guy, very easy to get along with who is self employed and looking for a place in London with good transport links (24-7 bus service if possible). I work from home so spend lot of time on my computer but am sociable as well, I have a large selection of DVD's and CD's, a Wii and Xbox360, a 42" TV, Blu Ray player etc so the room I am in needs to be big enough to fit all this, and the room I am in needs to also come with a TV connection, internet and Sky connection, but as I said I am happy to socialise as well and only spend a lot of time in my room because it is my work, and while I like being on my own I like being with people as well. I love music and goto gigs as regulary as possible, like things from Rock n Roll to Indie to singer/songwriters and also finding good up and coming bands because tickets to see them are cheap! Love going to the pub as well. I also have a passion for foreign films and have tons of DVD's that include them (Over 600 DVD's and about same amount of CD's), so I have plenty of stuff you can borrow! I also support Liverpool so no Man Utd fans! (Just kidding). I do go out for all nighters sometimes so sometimes I can come back in the early hours, normally once/twice a week and normally on a weekend, but sometimes during the week (Rarely). I am not a professional, I am not a suit wearing guy, just a chilled guy who might look a bit rough and ready but am easy to get along with. I can provide references from the estate agents of where I currently live and would like a 3 monthish rolling contract (Maxium of 6 months, but not 12 month even tho I will likely stay longer then that it is just you never know with this economy what can happen) and I can pay upto £750 a month, perhaps more for the right place. I don't care if I share with male/female, gay/straight, black/white, etc etc, as long as you are cool, and would ideally prefer a few people in the house but will consider anything as long as you are fun but I also appreciate people have to work :) Ideally I'd like something for around Mid April onwards, I am in no rush to move so if it is something bit later in the year that is fine.
The first interview
I’ve secured my first interview. It’s difficult not to lower yourself into the warm soothing bath of relief. It’s difficult not to say, bugger it I’ll buy the more expensive soy sauce because pretty soon I’ll have a high paying corporate job. You can’t do that. I don’t know anyone who gets the first job they interview for. It’s a learning experience, just like filling in application forms and learning their abstract code. Of course you can do everything you can to help the process along, you can do the reading, practice interview skills and take deep breaths. But at the end of the day you get better by doing.
So it’s a relief to know my CV alone can stand me in good stead to break the first barrier. I don’t know how many more hoops there will be to jump through. I can only try to see this as a positive step and not as the end of the struggle. I’ve made it to base camp at the bottom of the mountain and I’m peering upwards towards the cloudy mountain top.
Yet having said all of that I want to squeal with joy and picture the life ahead of me, fancy cars, Champaign, buying mum something decent for Mother’s Day. I want to imagine holidays in the Caribbean and not having to buy own brand supermarket food. But here lies disappointment and frustration. Here lies the crushing defeat of life and the weight of the world. So best to stick to the plan, work hard and keep applying for job after job.
Still I will accept the boost in confidence in good faith.
As the Temptations said, “Keep on truckin’ baby”.
So it’s a relief to know my CV alone can stand me in good stead to break the first barrier. I don’t know how many more hoops there will be to jump through. I can only try to see this as a positive step and not as the end of the struggle. I’ve made it to base camp at the bottom of the mountain and I’m peering upwards towards the cloudy mountain top.
Yet having said all of that I want to squeal with joy and picture the life ahead of me, fancy cars, Champaign, buying mum something decent for Mother’s Day. I want to imagine holidays in the Caribbean and not having to buy own brand supermarket food. But here lies disappointment and frustration. Here lies the crushing defeat of life and the weight of the world. So best to stick to the plan, work hard and keep applying for job after job.
Still I will accept the boost in confidence in good faith.
As the Temptations said, “Keep on truckin’ baby”.
Friday 6 March 2009
The angst is starting to get to me.
OK! Very funny, the joke’s over. I’ll take that job now. Anybody. Anybody. Bueller. Come on, seriously, I’ve had enough now and I’m starting to get worried. A few weeks is fair enough, go through the hell of searching for a job, of filling in countless forms with their ridiculous questions, but I’d very much like a job now.
The angst is starting to bite. You know the angst is biting when you start singing to yourself in a high pitched squeal and when small, almost inconsequential, problems make you want to give up. Well the angst has locked its shark like teeth around my ripe plump posterior and it isn’t letting go. Bugger. The only way to tackle the angst is to have a plan and achieve steps on that ladder to success, each step gives you hope. My first step is to get a flat mate to relieve some of the pressure of paying the mortgage. I have five people coming to look at the room this weekend, so I can only hope one of them isn’t too freaked out by the giant clown head I leave on the pillow. Maybe I should chuck that.
Step two is to go down the council tax people and see what help they can give me. I need everything I can get at this stage. I’m only worried that by having a flat mate I might invalidate getting help on the council tax. The one thing about this that absolutely pisses me off is that I can go to talk to my mortgage company about taking a payment holiday but I have to keep paying for the bloody Olympics. Unless I get a job with the Olympic Delivery Agency which would be great, like getting your money back.
Step three is to go into my mortgage company and have a chat with them about what I can do. My fixed rate is up shortly and the Bank of England have done their bit by reducing the interest rate to 0.5%. So hopefully payments should fall.
I don’t have a step four. I DON’T HAVE A STEP 4!!!! DONT PANIC. DON’T PANIC!
Boy this angst is killing me.
The angst is starting to bite. You know the angst is biting when you start singing to yourself in a high pitched squeal and when small, almost inconsequential, problems make you want to give up. Well the angst has locked its shark like teeth around my ripe plump posterior and it isn’t letting go. Bugger. The only way to tackle the angst is to have a plan and achieve steps on that ladder to success, each step gives you hope. My first step is to get a flat mate to relieve some of the pressure of paying the mortgage. I have five people coming to look at the room this weekend, so I can only hope one of them isn’t too freaked out by the giant clown head I leave on the pillow. Maybe I should chuck that.
Step two is to go down the council tax people and see what help they can give me. I need everything I can get at this stage. I’m only worried that by having a flat mate I might invalidate getting help on the council tax. The one thing about this that absolutely pisses me off is that I can go to talk to my mortgage company about taking a payment holiday but I have to keep paying for the bloody Olympics. Unless I get a job with the Olympic Delivery Agency which would be great, like getting your money back.
Step three is to go into my mortgage company and have a chat with them about what I can do. My fixed rate is up shortly and the Bank of England have done their bit by reducing the interest rate to 0.5%. So hopefully payments should fall.
I don’t have a step four. I DON’T HAVE A STEP 4!!!! DONT PANIC. DON’T PANIC!
Boy this angst is killing me.
Thursday 5 March 2009
Getting my five a day is killing me.
According to the producers of strawberries it takes ten strawberries to make up one of your five a day. That’s fifty strawberries a day to stay healthy. I’m thinking that’s a recipe for the runs. Of course you wouldn’t eat fifty, in fact you can barely eat ten without thinking it’s going to influence things a little bit too much in the downstairs area. So who makes this up? Who decides how many strawberries constitutes 1 of your 5 a day? And what of salad? Who’s measuring the salad?
The NHS Five a Day website says one portion consists of:
‘Small-sized fruit: 2 or more, for example 2 plums, 2 satsumas, 3 apricots, 2 kiwi fruit, 7 strawberries, 14 cherries, 6 lychees.’
So might I suggest the strawberry producers are lying through their teeth and in fact seven average size strawberries constitutes 1 of your 5 a day. But what has all this got to do with finding work you ask, you’re an idiot going on about fruit when you should be looking for a job! Well, one thing I have conspicuously failed to mention in this blog so far is money, cold hard cash, or more likely the lack of it.
Ok so strawberries are out of season and are flown in from Spain which makes them more expensive and carbon unfriendly. However shopping for the money conscious centres around frozen food that uses poor quality fish and battery farmed chicken in some sort of crispy batter, not berries and vegetables. It’s white bread not seeded granary loaves. And it’s crisps and snacks at low, low prices, bottles of coke for a pound, Cadbury’s fingers for 89p. Is this because when you’re out of work you want to comfort eat and the supermarkets are catering for what people want as opposed to what they should have? Or is it because the frozen crap is so damned cheap anyway that they can lop off 50% of the price and still make a large profit? Probably both.
So my beef steak tomato is this, how can I afford my five a day on a budget, especially when the producers of such goods are lying to me, encouraging me to eat more of it than I need to. Oh and potatoes don’t count. Wait a second, isn’t this what, Jamie Nakedchef was telling everyone a while back, well done mate, big success. Not. Getting my five a day on a budget is killing me.
http://www.5aday.nhs.uk/topTips/default.html
The NHS Five a Day website says one portion consists of:
‘Small-sized fruit: 2 or more, for example 2 plums, 2 satsumas, 3 apricots, 2 kiwi fruit, 7 strawberries, 14 cherries, 6 lychees.’
So might I suggest the strawberry producers are lying through their teeth and in fact seven average size strawberries constitutes 1 of your 5 a day. But what has all this got to do with finding work you ask, you’re an idiot going on about fruit when you should be looking for a job! Well, one thing I have conspicuously failed to mention in this blog so far is money, cold hard cash, or more likely the lack of it.
Ok so strawberries are out of season and are flown in from Spain which makes them more expensive and carbon unfriendly. However shopping for the money conscious centres around frozen food that uses poor quality fish and battery farmed chicken in some sort of crispy batter, not berries and vegetables. It’s white bread not seeded granary loaves. And it’s crisps and snacks at low, low prices, bottles of coke for a pound, Cadbury’s fingers for 89p. Is this because when you’re out of work you want to comfort eat and the supermarkets are catering for what people want as opposed to what they should have? Or is it because the frozen crap is so damned cheap anyway that they can lop off 50% of the price and still make a large profit? Probably both.
So my beef steak tomato is this, how can I afford my five a day on a budget, especially when the producers of such goods are lying to me, encouraging me to eat more of it than I need to. Oh and potatoes don’t count. Wait a second, isn’t this what, Jamie Nakedchef was telling everyone a while back, well done mate, big success. Not. Getting my five a day on a budget is killing me.
http://www.5aday.nhs.uk/topTips/default.html
Wednesday 4 March 2009
GCSEs, A’ levels! My younger self is killing me!
Richard Herring, the middle-aged comedian who used to be on TV (his description not mine), looks at life in a very unreserved and truthful but always funny way. I’m a fan of his work and his recent show – The Headmaster’s Son – contains a nugget of gold as big as a really big diamond. In it Richard begins a dialogue, nay an argument with his 16 year old self. It’s his way of wishing he knew then what he knows now, but also that he wishes he was now what his 16 year old self wanted him to be then. In short, actually I’m lost, but the point is what does it matter what his 16 year old self was, all that matters is who he is now – and that’s just my point with GCSE’s and A’ levels. What possible use can they be on a job application form that requires you have a degree?
Phillip: “This man has PHDs from Cambridge in exobiology and cosmology, surely qualifications of note in applying for this research position. He’s gonna be a star. A star I tells ya!”
Gerald: “Oh dear, look, he didn't do that well in his GCSEs.”
Phillip: “No! Cast out his damn soul and let not his pathetic and tiny brain curse our eyes and our ears no more. He’s dead to me. Dead!”
Gerald: “That was quite dramatic.”
On reflection, looking back, way back I will admit I was a bit of a lazy bugger. I lacked direction, motivation and purpose. I did what I needed to do to get by and no more. The only area in life where my procrastination was a major problem was in school, and that’s only a problem now when I look back on my results - they were good to middling. I always did just enough to get to the next level. No one told me in twenty years time I’ll be judged on these results. I was focusing on the next step, A’ levels and University. Give me a break.
How do these kids do it with all the A stars at GCSEs. Seems today that every kid in the country comes out with at least five A grades, sometimes in swearing and knife crime, but As none the less. Is someone telling them – look out kids, you may think school is for having fun with your mates and getting by academically but in twenty years time this could make or break your life! I was too busy playing football and chasing girls (for chasing girls read playing Diplomacy) to care about the future.
It’s my firm opinion that junior academic achievements should be wiped from your record, like a spent crime from when you were caught pissing in the street by some overzealous policeman, as soon as you get to university. From that point onwards only your university grades need be given. As an aside I now detest public urination and see no good reason for it, you see I have changed.
Phillip: “This man has PHDs from Cambridge in exobiology and cosmology, surely qualifications of note in applying for this research position. He’s gonna be a star. A star I tells ya!”
Gerald: “Oh dear, look, he didn't do that well in his GCSEs.”
Phillip: “No! Cast out his damn soul and let not his pathetic and tiny brain curse our eyes and our ears no more. He’s dead to me. Dead!”
Gerald: “That was quite dramatic.”
On reflection, looking back, way back I will admit I was a bit of a lazy bugger. I lacked direction, motivation and purpose. I did what I needed to do to get by and no more. The only area in life where my procrastination was a major problem was in school, and that’s only a problem now when I look back on my results - they were good to middling. I always did just enough to get to the next level. No one told me in twenty years time I’ll be judged on these results. I was focusing on the next step, A’ levels and University. Give me a break.
How do these kids do it with all the A stars at GCSEs. Seems today that every kid in the country comes out with at least five A grades, sometimes in swearing and knife crime, but As none the less. Is someone telling them – look out kids, you may think school is for having fun with your mates and getting by academically but in twenty years time this could make or break your life! I was too busy playing football and chasing girls (for chasing girls read playing Diplomacy) to care about the future.
It’s my firm opinion that junior academic achievements should be wiped from your record, like a spent crime from when you were caught pissing in the street by some overzealous policeman, as soon as you get to university. From that point onwards only your university grades need be given. As an aside I now detest public urination and see no good reason for it, you see I have changed.
Thursday 26 February 2009
Tuesday 24 February 2009
There's whoring and then there's whoring
The good thing about looking for work is that it hardens you to rejection. If you are single you must put this new found skill to use by joining a dating website or going to a speed dating event. Your hardened external shell provides a useful shield against further rejection.
In fact the worlds of dating and job applications have a lot of similarities; there’s the perfect person with the perfect profile, you meet all her needs and she meets yours, until you find out she lives in Aberdeenshire. There’s the act of putting yourself on the line, of profiling yourself to the world, naked and alone. And then there’s the act of giving your details out to all and sundry at the risk that marketing companies will bombard you with emails (more about this in a future blog).
So you find a job and you’re really interested in it, it’s perfect for you and you’re perfect for it, so you arrange to get together for a meeting. Maybe you go for out for a drink or over to their place for a chat and a cup of coffee. You dress up nice because you want them to like you. You’ve had a productive first date and they promise to call.
You get home that evening, maybe slip into a hot bubble bath and think back about how you made them laugh and how sincere you sounded when talking about your fictionalised charity work.
You sit at your computer browsing other jobs on the internet but you’re not really looking. You check your mobile, maybe it’s not working or you missed a text. Still nothing and it’s four o’clock in the afternoon. You think about phoning them but you stop yourself, after all you don’t want to seem desperate. Still nothing and the whole day passes. They must be employing the three day rule. Fine, so they’ll phone tomorrow. Still nothing, so you write an email but you never send it. And then, four days later they phone you and either you’ll get lucky, get a second date or they’ll gently explain that they liked you but they’ve been seeing someone else and they’ve decided to make a go of it with them.
However if I keep going with this analogy it would make recruitment agencies pimps and me a whore. Hmmm, analyse that if you can Mr. Freud.
In fact the worlds of dating and job applications have a lot of similarities; there’s the perfect person with the perfect profile, you meet all her needs and she meets yours, until you find out she lives in Aberdeenshire. There’s the act of putting yourself on the line, of profiling yourself to the world, naked and alone. And then there’s the act of giving your details out to all and sundry at the risk that marketing companies will bombard you with emails (more about this in a future blog).
So you find a job and you’re really interested in it, it’s perfect for you and you’re perfect for it, so you arrange to get together for a meeting. Maybe you go for out for a drink or over to their place for a chat and a cup of coffee. You dress up nice because you want them to like you. You’ve had a productive first date and they promise to call.
You get home that evening, maybe slip into a hot bubble bath and think back about how you made them laugh and how sincere you sounded when talking about your fictionalised charity work.
You sit at your computer browsing other jobs on the internet but you’re not really looking. You check your mobile, maybe it’s not working or you missed a text. Still nothing and it’s four o’clock in the afternoon. You think about phoning them but you stop yourself, after all you don’t want to seem desperate. Still nothing and the whole day passes. They must be employing the three day rule. Fine, so they’ll phone tomorrow. Still nothing, so you write an email but you never send it. And then, four days later they phone you and either you’ll get lucky, get a second date or they’ll gently explain that they liked you but they’ve been seeing someone else and they’ve decided to make a go of it with them.
However if I keep going with this analogy it would make recruitment agencies pimps and me a whore. Hmmm, analyse that if you can Mr. Freud.
Monday 23 February 2009
Online Application forms are killing me
When a beautiful flower opens up before your eyes you gasp and drink in its wonderment. Unfortunately the same is not true of online job application forms. What you think should take thirty minutes takes five times as long. Fill in your name, email address and upload your CV. Great, no problem. A covering letter, boy, well sure I guess that’s fair. There is nothing like a covering letter to boost the job chances and let them get to know you a little. Expand on some of the more exciting areas of your CV. Fill in some gaps and of course a little flattery will get you ... hang on, you want me to say how I meet the person skills requirement, but, the covering letter?
And so the form expands and drops down and branches out and links to other bits that take you back to the beginning. Where was I? Press here. No, no don’t submit I wasn’t ready, I haven’t... oh it didn’t because I haven’t. Maybe I’ll do it tomorrow. But you must always soldier on and get it finished. Stopping half way through filling in an application form is a recipe for disaster. If I stop with a view to carrying on the next day I’ll more than likely convince myself during the night that either there’s no point applying for this position because I’ll never get it or that I don’t really want it and will have already moved on come morning.
Online application forms have a sense of linear progression whereby one section is filled in after the next, like a slinky going down some stairs, dropping one level each time until it reaches the end and stops. It can go no further. A downloadable application form is another matter all together. I can never tell if you are supposed to fill in the space using some sort of Microsoft form filling tool or just cut and paste – even if the resultant words are for some reason highlighted in blue. Maybe it exists already but if it doesn’t someone needs to invent an application whereby you enter some of the key words from the person specification, some words from the job specification and then some key words from your CV and it creates the perfect application form response. Two minutes per form. Bonza!
As an addendum to stupid application forms I had no idea how to show I had the required ‘skill and competence’ listed below, I’d be interested to know how you might have answered it so do leave a comment:
Skill and ability to inspire high levels of confidence in own professional judgement and to negotiate effectively.
And so the form expands and drops down and branches out and links to other bits that take you back to the beginning. Where was I? Press here. No, no don’t submit I wasn’t ready, I haven’t... oh it didn’t because I haven’t. Maybe I’ll do it tomorrow. But you must always soldier on and get it finished. Stopping half way through filling in an application form is a recipe for disaster. If I stop with a view to carrying on the next day I’ll more than likely convince myself during the night that either there’s no point applying for this position because I’ll never get it or that I don’t really want it and will have already moved on come morning.
Online application forms have a sense of linear progression whereby one section is filled in after the next, like a slinky going down some stairs, dropping one level each time until it reaches the end and stops. It can go no further. A downloadable application form is another matter all together. I can never tell if you are supposed to fill in the space using some sort of Microsoft form filling tool or just cut and paste – even if the resultant words are for some reason highlighted in blue. Maybe it exists already but if it doesn’t someone needs to invent an application whereby you enter some of the key words from the person specification, some words from the job specification and then some key words from your CV and it creates the perfect application form response. Two minutes per form. Bonza!
As an addendum to stupid application forms I had no idea how to show I had the required ‘skill and competence’ listed below, I’d be interested to know how you might have answered it so do leave a comment:
Skill and ability to inspire high levels of confidence in own professional judgement and to negotiate effectively.
Sunday 22 February 2009
The perfect job is killing me
The heat is crushing as you stager towards the next sand dune. All around is nothing but desert stretching as far as the eye can see. Each movement forward takes four or five normal steps as the fine grains flow underneath your feet, draining the energy from your wearied limbs. And your throat, my god your throat is parched! You can feel every open taste bud on your rough tongue against the dry roof of your mouth. You look desperately for anything that might contain moisture but there’s nothing. Then, as you reach the top of the dune you see the oasis at the bottom and life springs eternal. Your soul soars and your spirit lifts. Your brain tricks your body into releasing the last bit of saliva to wet your mouth and you rush down to the watering hole only for it to disappear in a haze of heat and wishful thinking. Very much like finding the perfect job, only it’s in Coventry.
The perfect job exists, it isn’t like the Loch Ness monster or the Sasquatch of North America. It is out there it’s just very rare. You’ll be hunting through the jobs pages of the Guardian , Times or some such and you’ll come across the perfect job title, that perks your interest right up. Next you look for the salary and it’s more than you could have hoped for but not too much more that it puts the job beyond your reach. You begin to read and the job starts to sound better and better. I can do that, I’ve experience of doing exactly that in my last job, oh wow, I’m qualified for this role. Your soul soars and your spirit lifts. That’s when you see the last line – financial sector experience required or, this is a job share opportunity, or worst of all, based in Swindon.
Ok, so it’s based in Swindon, they are offering a car as part of the package, I could drive to see my friends every weekend. I’ll stay over on sofas and oh my god what am I saying. I’m not a student. If I move to Swindon I’ll have to live in Swindon. I’ll be making my life there. Maybe it won’t be so bad, it has got those roundabouts people talk about, on that salary I’m sure I’ll find somewhere out in the beautiful countryside to live, and commuting won’t mean being crow barred onto the tube each morning. I’ll probably have a blue Ford Mondeo and I can listen to Coldplay on my six CD changer system. That’s when you start to cry and the people around you in the cafe where you’re eating your sandwich and reading the paper look awkwardly in your direction, half of them in sympathy and the other half in disgust.
I’m being dramatic, of course I am, but the point stands true, finding the perfect job can be a tortuous and heartbreaking experience with much false-fill waiting to collapse instantly beneath you. Take care when it all sounds too good to be true. Consider the implications of moving away from your community of friends and family before applying for a role you are never going to take. The misery of not having a job can only be beaten by the misery of having a job in the wrong place. Finding the perfect job is killing me!
The perfect job exists, it isn’t like the Loch Ness monster or the Sasquatch of North America. It is out there it’s just very rare. You’ll be hunting through the jobs pages of the Guardian , Times or some such and you’ll come across the perfect job title, that perks your interest right up. Next you look for the salary and it’s more than you could have hoped for but not too much more that it puts the job beyond your reach. You begin to read and the job starts to sound better and better. I can do that, I’ve experience of doing exactly that in my last job, oh wow, I’m qualified for this role. Your soul soars and your spirit lifts. That’s when you see the last line – financial sector experience required or, this is a job share opportunity, or worst of all, based in Swindon.
Ok, so it’s based in Swindon, they are offering a car as part of the package, I could drive to see my friends every weekend. I’ll stay over on sofas and oh my god what am I saying. I’m not a student. If I move to Swindon I’ll have to live in Swindon. I’ll be making my life there. Maybe it won’t be so bad, it has got those roundabouts people talk about, on that salary I’m sure I’ll find somewhere out in the beautiful countryside to live, and commuting won’t mean being crow barred onto the tube each morning. I’ll probably have a blue Ford Mondeo and I can listen to Coldplay on my six CD changer system. That’s when you start to cry and the people around you in the cafe where you’re eating your sandwich and reading the paper look awkwardly in your direction, half of them in sympathy and the other half in disgust.
I’m being dramatic, of course I am, but the point stands true, finding the perfect job can be a tortuous and heartbreaking experience with much false-fill waiting to collapse instantly beneath you. Take care when it all sounds too good to be true. Consider the implications of moving away from your community of friends and family before applying for a role you are never going to take. The misery of not having a job can only be beaten by the misery of having a job in the wrong place. Finding the perfect job is killing me!
Friday 20 February 2009
These fallow days are killing me
Today is one of those days unemployed people dread, the fallow day. I have no plans, no commitments, the shopping is done, I don’t need a haircut, I have no one to bug me and all my friends are at work. I don’t even have any mind bending drugs to distract me. It is surely because of the fallow days that people turn to crack or alcohol in the first place – to make the endless hours stretching out before us move along that little bit quicker.
There’s TV. There is always TV. Trisha, Fern and Phil and Jeremy Kyle. Why is it that we know these people by their first names? Actually I’m not going to go there. Not just because it’s been done a million times before but because there is a whole world of activities and knowledge and things to be learnt just waiting for each and every one of us. Me, I’m going to turn to cosmology and try to find out just how big the universe is and exactly how old it is – I think it’s about 14 billion years old but it’s always good to check. I have explored this before, I didn’t just wake up one morning knowing the age of the universe, but it’s important to know for sure. 14 billion used to sound like a big number until Government bail-outs upped the stakes to the trillions.
Banker: “how old is the universe? 14 billion. Pah! I lost that much by tea time yesterday.”
The fallow days are just the worst because they sap your energy, they force you into procrastinating and even go so far as to eke. Eking is the worst thing you can do (with the obvious exception of murder, torture and so forth) because you are passively wasting your precious time here on earth. We have such short life spans and so much to accomplish that eking is a crime against nature. The odds against each of us existing is incomprehensible! The quantum event that began the big bang, that the mathematical constants of the universe should be such that the universe neither flies apart too quickly or collapses in on itself, that a planet should be formed with just the right atmosphere and chemicals and distance from the sun that water could exist, that humans should evolve in just such a way that your parents met each other and that one sperm should make it through to the egg and here we are. Bang! An individual without a job.
Google almost makes it too easy to find an answer, perhaps that’s why it’s human nature to corrupt Wikipedia. Wikipedia should be a wonderful resource for all of human knowledge, that once we have written it all down and linked it up together we will discover wonderful new applications and inventions, but instead we prefer to purposefully fill it with nonsense and junk. Henry Miller, in his book ‘Tropic of Cancer’, exclaimed that when all of art is collected in one book and all the ideas have been done, then art would be dead. Perhaps this is why we avoid completing Wikipedia. Lord knows how the world of advertising would cope. Advertising company board rooms across the world would slump as their latest idea for selling us face cream could be found out by a click of a button. This is already happening to an extent. So the question is, can the human race run out of ideas and if so will we have to keep wiping our memories every ten years just to enable us to enjoy life.
”Ooh look the Mona Lisa, I haven’t seen that before. What a quirky smile she has.”
I read that the British Library is preparing a phenomenal project to scan all of the art in all of the galleries across Britain and put it online. What a terrible idea. Sure you can expose a lot more people to a lot more paintings, but you can only make them appreciate art less as they scroll through, like the posters in HMV as you flick casually past Metallica and Girls Aloud, perhaps pausing once because you thought you saw a bit of nipple. You didn’t. Carry on. I think I might write to them and tell them it’s a terrible idea. They could spend the money on something much more exciting like, an escalator to the moon.
Boy you can tell it’s a fallow day when I’m writing about escalators to the moon. I’ve got things to do, like the washing. And so it grinds on. These fallow days are killing me.
There’s TV. There is always TV. Trisha, Fern and Phil and Jeremy Kyle. Why is it that we know these people by their first names? Actually I’m not going to go there. Not just because it’s been done a million times before but because there is a whole world of activities and knowledge and things to be learnt just waiting for each and every one of us. Me, I’m going to turn to cosmology and try to find out just how big the universe is and exactly how old it is – I think it’s about 14 billion years old but it’s always good to check. I have explored this before, I didn’t just wake up one morning knowing the age of the universe, but it’s important to know for sure. 14 billion used to sound like a big number until Government bail-outs upped the stakes to the trillions.
Banker: “how old is the universe? 14 billion. Pah! I lost that much by tea time yesterday.”
The fallow days are just the worst because they sap your energy, they force you into procrastinating and even go so far as to eke. Eking is the worst thing you can do (with the obvious exception of murder, torture and so forth) because you are passively wasting your precious time here on earth. We have such short life spans and so much to accomplish that eking is a crime against nature. The odds against each of us existing is incomprehensible! The quantum event that began the big bang, that the mathematical constants of the universe should be such that the universe neither flies apart too quickly or collapses in on itself, that a planet should be formed with just the right atmosphere and chemicals and distance from the sun that water could exist, that humans should evolve in just such a way that your parents met each other and that one sperm should make it through to the egg and here we are. Bang! An individual without a job.
Google almost makes it too easy to find an answer, perhaps that’s why it’s human nature to corrupt Wikipedia. Wikipedia should be a wonderful resource for all of human knowledge, that once we have written it all down and linked it up together we will discover wonderful new applications and inventions, but instead we prefer to purposefully fill it with nonsense and junk. Henry Miller, in his book ‘Tropic of Cancer’, exclaimed that when all of art is collected in one book and all the ideas have been done, then art would be dead. Perhaps this is why we avoid completing Wikipedia. Lord knows how the world of advertising would cope. Advertising company board rooms across the world would slump as their latest idea for selling us face cream could be found out by a click of a button. This is already happening to an extent. So the question is, can the human race run out of ideas and if so will we have to keep wiping our memories every ten years just to enable us to enjoy life.
”Ooh look the Mona Lisa, I haven’t seen that before. What a quirky smile she has.”
I read that the British Library is preparing a phenomenal project to scan all of the art in all of the galleries across Britain and put it online. What a terrible idea. Sure you can expose a lot more people to a lot more paintings, but you can only make them appreciate art less as they scroll through, like the posters in HMV as you flick casually past Metallica and Girls Aloud, perhaps pausing once because you thought you saw a bit of nipple. You didn’t. Carry on. I think I might write to them and tell them it’s a terrible idea. They could spend the money on something much more exciting like, an escalator to the moon.
Boy you can tell it’s a fallow day when I’m writing about escalators to the moon. I’ve got things to do, like the washing. And so it grinds on. These fallow days are killing me.
Thursday 19 February 2009
Signing on is killing me
I was there early for my nine am appointment with advisor number seven and dutifully joined the queue on the disabled access ramp, waiting for them to open. A similar experience, I should imagine, to joining the queue for the porn shop. Lots of men in shabby coats shuffling anxiously, looking down hoping not to be noticed, the odd hard-nosed weather beaten lady and the surprising cute chick who really doesn’t look like she should be there.
I’m here to find a job, the ‘job-seekers allowance’ as it’s now called – more famously the dole – is but an inconvenient truth to my situation. I’m not here to bludgeon off the state, I’m here to find work. As long as I keep telling myself that I can hold my chin up high in this line, high enough to check out the cute chick.
I won’t go through the boring details of the process, the complaints about finally seeing someone at 9.30 because, let’s face it, where else do I have to be. A recent text I sent to a friend read, “Dole. No plans”, simple, straightforward and crushingly true. My reflections on the process, as I type this, is that at no point did advisor number seven provide me with any hope that my situation would change, that a job was waiting around the corner for me. Rather there was a mutual understanding that I was doing all I could to get a job, she couldn’t think of any other areas I should try, and worst of all that my future was in the hands of fait.
The only completely stupid form I had to fill in was a residency form. Now I can understand why this needs to be filled in by non-UK citizens coming from abroad. It makes sense. But given that I have a UK passport, should I really have to fill this in just because I was away for the year? How many times can you write, “Because I was born in the UK 35 years ago,” or “I didn’t bring any possessions back with me because all my possessions are here. I live here. I own a property here.”?
So what do I get, apart from an untimely sense of the sword of Damocles and a reliance on a supreme being in whom I do not believe? I get a passport to helping me pay the mortgage through the local authority. I get £60 a week – not to be sniffed at, until you realise it costs £6 to make a return trip into London, £1.20 for a loaf of seeded bread (I’m saving the NHS money in the long run by eating seeds) and that as soon as I move back in I’ll have to pay, gas, electricity, internet and contents insurance. Well that’s the £60 gone, now for the mortgage and eating. Bugger.
Can signing on actually bring you down, destroy your self confidence and ultimately impact negatively on solving the problem – unlikely. For as I said in the beginning, I’m only here to help me find a job. So back to the websites and the newspapers with their false jobs created by agencies and their endless links to application forms even Superman would have trouble with.
I’m here to find a job, the ‘job-seekers allowance’ as it’s now called – more famously the dole – is but an inconvenient truth to my situation. I’m not here to bludgeon off the state, I’m here to find work. As long as I keep telling myself that I can hold my chin up high in this line, high enough to check out the cute chick.
I won’t go through the boring details of the process, the complaints about finally seeing someone at 9.30 because, let’s face it, where else do I have to be. A recent text I sent to a friend read, “Dole. No plans”, simple, straightforward and crushingly true. My reflections on the process, as I type this, is that at no point did advisor number seven provide me with any hope that my situation would change, that a job was waiting around the corner for me. Rather there was a mutual understanding that I was doing all I could to get a job, she couldn’t think of any other areas I should try, and worst of all that my future was in the hands of fait.
The only completely stupid form I had to fill in was a residency form. Now I can understand why this needs to be filled in by non-UK citizens coming from abroad. It makes sense. But given that I have a UK passport, should I really have to fill this in just because I was away for the year? How many times can you write, “Because I was born in the UK 35 years ago,” or “I didn’t bring any possessions back with me because all my possessions are here. I live here. I own a property here.”?
So what do I get, apart from an untimely sense of the sword of Damocles and a reliance on a supreme being in whom I do not believe? I get a passport to helping me pay the mortgage through the local authority. I get £60 a week – not to be sniffed at, until you realise it costs £6 to make a return trip into London, £1.20 for a loaf of seeded bread (I’m saving the NHS money in the long run by eating seeds) and that as soon as I move back in I’ll have to pay, gas, electricity, internet and contents insurance. Well that’s the £60 gone, now for the mortgage and eating. Bugger.
Can signing on actually bring you down, destroy your self confidence and ultimately impact negatively on solving the problem – unlikely. For as I said in the beginning, I’m only here to help me find a job. So back to the websites and the newspapers with their false jobs created by agencies and their endless links to application forms even Superman would have trouble with.
Tuesday 17 February 2009
Recruitment Agencies are killing me
How many jobs have you applied for over the internet that list only the recruitment agency representing the potential employer? And how many of those jobs were just right for you with a great salary in these tough times? And how many times have you actually been contacted by the company directly, taking the time to set out the job specification and location? Or rather do you then receive a call from the recruitment agency saying they like your CV and will you come in to talk with them? WHAT? WHERE’S THE F’ING JOB GONE?
A friend of mine once said that you have to remember these agencies are like estate agents, they don’t work for you they work for the employer. Oh, they might come across as your friend, as the plucky 23 year old working tirelessly on your behalf, but where’s the proof? Some of them are also very good looking which is rather distracting and really not fair at all. Friday is the best day to get an interview, by the way, because it’s dress down day – jeans and a sexy t-shirt. Damn it! No. I won’t be beguiled by their long flowing locks.
I’m registered with four agencies and I’m going to speak to one more tomorrow, only one of which has presented with some jobs and non of which has actually got anywhere. You have to phone them constantly in a vain attempt to get them to stay on top of it. An actual conversation with an Agency went like this:
“Did Craig (name changed) not put you forward for that job then?”
“No he bloody didn’t.”
“It’s absolutely right for you.”
“Yes I know (pulling my hair out). Can’t you do something?”
“Well I can put your CV forward.”
“Brilliant, what a genius you must be, I can see why you’re in this job. Well done.”
Ok, so I might not have been so obviously passive-enraged, you can’t, if they think you might be challenging them then they’ll put you on the naughty pile. And you aren’t getting off the naughty pile anytime soon. So you have to grit your teeth and swallow that ball of rage deep, deep down until you’ve put the phone down.
Nothing. No jobs. Joining an agency has meant nothing more than interviews in posh locations with pretty young girls who flaunt their ... damn it, there I go again. But you have to join because you just don’t know. They may have the greatest job in the world and it’s there waiting for you and the only thing that stands between you and your ultimate life-fulfilling goal is whether that spritely little upstart can remember that you might be suited, and then simply hope that they deign you worthy to be put forward.
So I continue to rack up these agencies, some I’ve forgotten that I’ve even joined. I’ve been interviewed by kids and I’ve smiled and worn a suit and I’ve told them what my perfect job is. Actually that’s a lie because oiling the Brazilian woman’s beach volleyball team might not go down to well with someone looking to place you in the redundant dusty corridors of some god awful local authority.
So the jobs disappear and the interviews keep happening. Yet still nothing positive has come from them. But we’re all trapped by them – I tried to get out but they keep calling me up. Isn’t it false advertising? Can’t something be done? Or maybe it’s just me – but I doubt it. If you read this and you’ve had a similar situation do let me know.
A friend of mine once said that you have to remember these agencies are like estate agents, they don’t work for you they work for the employer. Oh, they might come across as your friend, as the plucky 23 year old working tirelessly on your behalf, but where’s the proof? Some of them are also very good looking which is rather distracting and really not fair at all. Friday is the best day to get an interview, by the way, because it’s dress down day – jeans and a sexy t-shirt. Damn it! No. I won’t be beguiled by their long flowing locks.
I’m registered with four agencies and I’m going to speak to one more tomorrow, only one of which has presented with some jobs and non of which has actually got anywhere. You have to phone them constantly in a vain attempt to get them to stay on top of it. An actual conversation with an Agency went like this:
“Did Craig (name changed) not put you forward for that job then?”
“No he bloody didn’t.”
“It’s absolutely right for you.”
“Yes I know (pulling my hair out). Can’t you do something?”
“Well I can put your CV forward.”
“Brilliant, what a genius you must be, I can see why you’re in this job. Well done.”
Ok, so I might not have been so obviously passive-enraged, you can’t, if they think you might be challenging them then they’ll put you on the naughty pile. And you aren’t getting off the naughty pile anytime soon. So you have to grit your teeth and swallow that ball of rage deep, deep down until you’ve put the phone down.
Nothing. No jobs. Joining an agency has meant nothing more than interviews in posh locations with pretty young girls who flaunt their ... damn it, there I go again. But you have to join because you just don’t know. They may have the greatest job in the world and it’s there waiting for you and the only thing that stands between you and your ultimate life-fulfilling goal is whether that spritely little upstart can remember that you might be suited, and then simply hope that they deign you worthy to be put forward.
So I continue to rack up these agencies, some I’ve forgotten that I’ve even joined. I’ve been interviewed by kids and I’ve smiled and worn a suit and I’ve told them what my perfect job is. Actually that’s a lie because oiling the Brazilian woman’s beach volleyball team might not go down to well with someone looking to place you in the redundant dusty corridors of some god awful local authority.
So the jobs disappear and the interviews keep happening. Yet still nothing positive has come from them. But we’re all trapped by them – I tried to get out but they keep calling me up. Isn’t it false advertising? Can’t something be done? Or maybe it’s just me – but I doubt it. If you read this and you’ve had a similar situation do let me know.
Application forms are killing me
It’s all a game, this applying for work and filling in application forms! The object is to fill the gap using as many of the key words listed in the person specification as possible. Take for instance my recent application to the Home office where I said:
“I was able to use the dedicated website monitoring tools to analyse activity and feedback in relation to specific symposia and website traffic in relation to posted comments. This allowed me to breakdown the statistics to show where I had been successful in promoting the website and encouraging feedback and where either more work or a different approach was needed.”
WTF does that mean? It makes sense in context with the application form which shows only that the application form is otherworldly. I know they have to try to make some sort of judgement on whom they should interview, but seriously, the most an application can show is how creative you can be in stretching the truth to meet the impossible categories set out by the employer:
“Delegates fairly while retaining overall responsibility.”
Or they might as well ask for, ‘parts the oceans without destroying the fragile eco-structure’.
Then they’ll list in the job specification:
“Actively engages others in equal opportunities and diversity issues”.
I’m tearing my hair out. What does this even mean?! ‘I always actively engage in equal opportunities and diversity issues by neither performing lynching nor burning down any churches, within the last five years’. Do I have to join the anti-Nazi league in order to prove I’m not a Nazi? No, of course not, that would be stupid. So how can I actively engage others in not distinguishing someone’s ethnicity as an issue? And why should they believe me? What right thinking person, Nazi or otherwise, is going to say in a job application form that actually they have a number of eugenics issues they feel still need to be addressed?
Filling in an application form is a skill, and all it highlights is that you are good at filling in application forms. It’s a travesty. I think any application form should be open ended with two main questions:
“Who are you, and, are you competent?” Then you should have five hundred words to demonstrate a sufficient answer.
I guess it all comes down to corporate culture. By knowing how to fill in an application form you are demonstrating that you are happy and competent to play the corporate game, to use the right words without having to demonstrate anything more than the briefest of actual thought – you may recognise this person as your boss. Which is why people who employ different ways of thinking about how to run a company are so sought after – just don’t put it in an application form.
And then there’s the question of why anyone would want to work there. Take the British Airways application form which asks you to say in 250 words, why you are attracted to the role. ‘Because it pays good money. That’s right. What do you want me to say – because I’m dying to be a part of a demonised industry that continues to pollute the planet. That I love peanuts and other airplane snacks, or just because I have always wanted to be a part of a faceless corporate giant with no real commitment to ‘colleagues’ who are expendable when times get tough. I have always wanted to be at risk of being sourced out or downsized or it’s just that I’m desperate to be the one to tell people they are being sacked. I just live for that look on their face when they realise they have a mortgage and school fees to pay.’
Filling in these application forms is killing me. It’s as if they are the shattered hole in the matrix that exposes the fragility of the world economic system – not that we haven’t been given enough clues of late. Can I really apply for a job that asks me to: Anticipate, build, respect, manage, promote, enforce; be pre-emptive, proactive, reactive, calm, resilient, concise, accurate, impartial, creative, efficient, probing, analytic, constructive, respectful, credible, collaborative and a leader – without lying?!
But I wanted to end on a positive note, and that is this – once you have jumped through all the hoops set out in employment law by HR professionals who might not have a job if the application procedure was any easier, and once you have passed the psychometric pseudo-science interview tests, and presented a presentation, and been grilled by three people and landed the job, well then you might just find you’re working with a lot of people just like you and nothing like the people who were required by the application form. Unfortunately many of these people may also be incompetent and make your life a misery. No. That can never happen, because the application form would have weeded them out! No?
“I was able to use the dedicated website monitoring tools to analyse activity and feedback in relation to specific symposia and website traffic in relation to posted comments. This allowed me to breakdown the statistics to show where I had been successful in promoting the website and encouraging feedback and where either more work or a different approach was needed.”
WTF does that mean? It makes sense in context with the application form which shows only that the application form is otherworldly. I know they have to try to make some sort of judgement on whom they should interview, but seriously, the most an application can show is how creative you can be in stretching the truth to meet the impossible categories set out by the employer:
“Delegates fairly while retaining overall responsibility.”
Or they might as well ask for, ‘parts the oceans without destroying the fragile eco-structure’.
Then they’ll list in the job specification:
“Actively engages others in equal opportunities and diversity issues”.
I’m tearing my hair out. What does this even mean?! ‘I always actively engage in equal opportunities and diversity issues by neither performing lynching nor burning down any churches, within the last five years’. Do I have to join the anti-Nazi league in order to prove I’m not a Nazi? No, of course not, that would be stupid. So how can I actively engage others in not distinguishing someone’s ethnicity as an issue? And why should they believe me? What right thinking person, Nazi or otherwise, is going to say in a job application form that actually they have a number of eugenics issues they feel still need to be addressed?
Filling in an application form is a skill, and all it highlights is that you are good at filling in application forms. It’s a travesty. I think any application form should be open ended with two main questions:
“Who are you, and, are you competent?” Then you should have five hundred words to demonstrate a sufficient answer.
I guess it all comes down to corporate culture. By knowing how to fill in an application form you are demonstrating that you are happy and competent to play the corporate game, to use the right words without having to demonstrate anything more than the briefest of actual thought – you may recognise this person as your boss. Which is why people who employ different ways of thinking about how to run a company are so sought after – just don’t put it in an application form.
And then there’s the question of why anyone would want to work there. Take the British Airways application form which asks you to say in 250 words, why you are attracted to the role. ‘Because it pays good money. That’s right. What do you want me to say – because I’m dying to be a part of a demonised industry that continues to pollute the planet. That I love peanuts and other airplane snacks, or just because I have always wanted to be a part of a faceless corporate giant with no real commitment to ‘colleagues’ who are expendable when times get tough. I have always wanted to be at risk of being sourced out or downsized or it’s just that I’m desperate to be the one to tell people they are being sacked. I just live for that look on their face when they realise they have a mortgage and school fees to pay.’
Filling in these application forms is killing me. It’s as if they are the shattered hole in the matrix that exposes the fragility of the world economic system – not that we haven’t been given enough clues of late. Can I really apply for a job that asks me to: Anticipate, build, respect, manage, promote, enforce; be pre-emptive, proactive, reactive, calm, resilient, concise, accurate, impartial, creative, efficient, probing, analytic, constructive, respectful, credible, collaborative and a leader – without lying?!
But I wanted to end on a positive note, and that is this – once you have jumped through all the hoops set out in employment law by HR professionals who might not have a job if the application procedure was any easier, and once you have passed the psychometric pseudo-science interview tests, and presented a presentation, and been grilled by three people and landed the job, well then you might just find you’re working with a lot of people just like you and nothing like the people who were required by the application form. Unfortunately many of these people may also be incompetent and make your life a misery. No. That can never happen, because the application form would have weeded them out! No?
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