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!

No comments:

Post a Comment