I’m gearing up to recycle my own bullshit for the umpteenth time. What’s new, says you, the occasional reader of my posts that come in various shades of the same old shite. With two months in my current job remaining, I am back revising the CV and hovering over the two-hangered section of my wardrobe that is supposed to radiate confidence. Diligence. Conscientiousness. Success. All I’m getting is desperation, and someone dangerously close to one pair of trousers away from a M&S twin-set and a life-time allergy to heels.
That’s the problem with the bogus feeling of immortality in your twenties. Freedom is just another word for not conforming, until not conforming becomes an inescapable by-phrase for harbouring an overdraft, a love/hate relationship with your potential, and a willingness to at least Google ‘pension plans’. Usually from around the age of 36 onward. In my field anyway.
The nature of my work puts a stranglehold on any notions of security and direction. So, with any luck, I’ll be back before a panel of managerial all-sorts soon working that enthusiasm. Working it good. Working it so good that sometimes I don’t notice I’ve brought the wrong USB key and the panel is looking on non-plussed at my family photos as I gabble on at the speed of bluffing it (“We regret to inform you..). Or I go completely blank and just walk out (“Please accept this cheque as a token of thanks for attending and a contribution towards your travel expenses”). Or I turn up two hours late apologising profusely after the plane was unable to land due to fog and go off on one like Spud from Trainspotting (“We are pleased to inform you you have been successful”). One just never knows what will wing it.
“Well, I can parallel park and lip sync to ‘So Lonely’ by The Police with perfect precision”
The stakes are higher; the pool of potential competition wider; and my ability to suffer fools who claim not to suffer fools is waning rapidly.
The definition of defeat: When the idea of becoming a civil servant/teacher/nun doesn’t seem that bad an idea after all.
Of course I’m only half-joking.
Oh Yikes best of luck with the polishing of that CV and hopefully blogging will help you with your creative writing for it.:)
Never say never. Last year my OH got his dream job handed to him at an age when his friends are speaking of early retirement. We are still pinching ourselves, but he is a lovely fella (don’t say I said so) so really deserved the luck.
Wishing you lots of luck too.
Hehe Thanks tric. Fair play to your fella. I love these stories of folk nabbing jobs they love. Was just reading about his impending Christmas Party. The things you do for that lovely fella. Enjoy!
Oh good luck, nearly had to ‘invent’ a Cv myselfvthere recently (shudder), may stretch my creative writing skills beyond their ability 😉
Thanks Naomi. I’m finding the aul CV is rapidly being taken over by the 10 page job application. They’re on to us!
Meant to congratulate you on your recent Journal entry. Brilliant.
Good luck! I hear you on the civil servant/ teacher/ nun thing. My sisters and I often bemoan not joining the civil service, much to my dad’s annoyance, after years of encouraging us to do exactly that…
Thanks so much. I’ll need it.
I’ve a niece who went into teaching. The most unlikely candidate who freely admits she plans on using the summers to “travel properly”. It sickens me that a young person could be so together. Where did her parents go wrong I wonder..
Enthusiasm is so exhausting. And overrated. I hope you succeed wildly with the minimum, minus a third.
Thanks. You’re right. I nearly pulled a facial muscle last time from smiling. And they’d only asked me if I had far to travel.
As long as you didn’t give them a blow-by-blow account of the traffic, you probably got away with it. I hate smiling, myself. Positively ruins my reputation.
It suggests civility, which is too close to ‘civil’, probably one of the most disturbing personality traits. After ‘nice’, and a ‘Mumford and Son fan’.
Eek! It’s all very well being in the Voluntary Sector to play your part in Making the World a Better Place (or were you like me, and misread the advert???) but even saints have to put fish fingers and wine on the table. The great thing about the application form is that it usually anonymises how old you are. And they young things on the panel won’t be able to do the sums from your work experience. Pension Plan – who can afford that on charity wages????? I’ve already explained to the Kid he needs to get a Proper Job with Prospects so that he can build a granny flat in his back garden. His Dad will be fine in the Home for the Incompetent.
Heh heh. I’m thinking of calling up a few an ad agencies to pimp our one out. It’s time she was earning her keep.
The applications are a laugh though. I was looking through one earlier with 16 pages. No joke. Neither was the entire A4 page given over to applicant to give examples of their working knowledge of Word applications. I’m tempted to fill it with exclamation marks.
I fear more rants on this to come. Lock up your browsers.