Dear Potential Employer/Recipient of Baked Goods

Dear Potential Employer,

I write to you another letter. Before you disregard it, cackle about my lack of experience, or-heaven forbid!- delete it without reading (rendering this letter completely useless), please take a moment to pause.

Sit back, relax in your wheelie chair, and let me tell you why, in fact, I would be your dream employee.

Growing up in a small village in rural Northern Ireland isn't exactly a recipe for success in finding a good job, with a reputable company such as yours (I hope you are a fan of flattery always working). Neither is being caught in the vicious Circle of Death (NOT Life) of "You have no experience. We can't give you experience. Because you have no experience." I'm sure you are familiar. Indeed, the internet is about the only tool left in my arsenal of weapons (I was once nicknamed Buffy, due to a particularly fine backpack considered ideal for vampire hunting). So I write to you now, longing to be a part of the excellent machine that is your company. I only ask to be a little cog. Necessary, but along the lines of a Victorian Child, seen but not heard complaining.

I suppose you might be wondering about my key skills and, my favourite word, experience. Well, let me tell you, whoever spread this horrible rumour that I have no experience, was a little bit barmy with a side order of mean.

It might interest you to hear a few of my key skills and experiences.

• I was once told that "If you smile, no one could refuse you anything." So I think the problem is not my lack of experience. You just haven't seen my smile. And no, it wasn't my mother that told me this so I think that deserves an extra bonus point.

• I am an excellent inventor and general conoisseur of creativity. I am the designated story composer for the live action bonanza that is the Zoo game, often played at  school or church events. In primary school I invented a game called the Ketchup Kids, that had a very entertaining condiment style Bahktanian humour bit. I also invented an elaborate back story for myself, involving a tennis court, Daddy and a horse, when people at school in the sticks called me 'Posh.' I'm not Posh. In the slightest. 

•  I speak several languages. Ein bisschen Deutsch, un peu Francais y un poco Espanol. I also briefly learnt Japanese...until I realised I was the worst artist ever and my letters all looked like sad ponies. I am, however, extremely good on Paint. I am excellent at communicating with different cultures as well. I once got followed in Germany by a crazy Italian man, shouting the names of pasta at me. I handled this with all the grace and poise you could ever want. I also went on the German exchange, and while in the school, managed to avoid cheering when the British planes swooped onto the screen of the war documentary we were watching. I obviously have a lot of tact. 
• I am an enthusiastic and often accurate cook. I love to shout 'Hey Presto!' and enthusiastically add pinches of spice left, right and centre. I also enjoy many different cuisines and have been known to prove my perserverance by eating curries a little too hot for me but managing to finish through distraction and mass water drinking. I have references proving this if needed. 
• I am completely adaptable. If my sisters told me to move seats as a teenager, I usually legged it quite fast. I also have been known to fetch drinks upon request. 
• I can lift surprisingly heavy people. Always useful. 
• I once considered completing the Cinnamon Challenge...but had the intelligence to know that that was a very very bad idea.
• When there is a lot of wind outside, I always manage to hold my ground. That's right, I hold my ground in difficult situations.
• People have been known to seek my advice on a range of expertise topics. How do I use a computer? How do I send an email? How do I not accidentally order 20 of something when I mean to order one? (Okay, all of those were my mother's questions). 

• I'm not afraid of a good dress-up session. I currently own an adult size Cinderella costume. And I'm not scared of using it. 
• I have never been late handing in an assignment, even when I published my own magazine, Slugworth Chronicle , written about and for my collection of hedgehog toys.

• I am a frequent traveller, with a great ability of locating local food in foreign countries. I am a genius at fitting lots of mini bottles into one plastic bag.I've only set a scanner beeping once, and it's still a mystery why.  And I've only ever lost one watch while going through security. And that was in pursuit of an intelligent well-read Brazilian man so you'll forgive me. 

I have experience in a lot of things, despite my age being 22, and I think this is a fact overlooked by a lot of employers in today's economic climate. And isn't great talent and desire to work hard more important than someone with a bad performance at a job hated who has the needed experience?

I, and many of my young unemployed or underemployed contemporaries, have experienced a vast many things.

We are a generation who have felt the dizzy highs of hopes and the damning lows of rejection. "If you prick us, do we not bleed?"

So, my dear Potential Employer, if you want someone who will work hard for you, who will bring you something a bit unique, and will dazzle you with her hopeful smile, then please consider me for your position/internship/cult.

Yours Sincerely,
QOTR

The 50th blog post/ The three things I really don't want to hear today

Here we are, readers. We've made it to the big 5-0. Not age, I'm not quite there yet. But my 50th blog post. In some ways this seems like a lot, but in others it  doesn't seem like much at all. Considering where I was when I wrote that very first post and where I am now, many things have changed. When I started the blog I was full of direction, inspiration, joie de vivre- surrounded by friends and family and full of excitement for all my travel adventures to come. Now, I am somewhat directionless and lonesome, being hundreds of miles from most of my friends and family, without a real job and without much changing. You've probably noticed the decline of the frequency of my blog posts. This is a sorry shame. I always thought when things picked up a bit I'd start writing again...but things never really picked up.

Now, that's not to say that some wonderful things haven't happened from the start until now, I've met amazing people, I've seen lots of new things and done lots of new things, I've experienced a lot of things both fantastically great and horrifyingly low. And I've grown (not just around the waist). But I can't help missing the optimistic girl at the start. And I'm determined to get her back somehow.

Anyway, I've made it to 50...and here's to another inspired 50 posts of embarassing dancing, and strange encounters, and new places and a bit of sunshine (hopefully).

The point of today's post is to highlight a few things that I, and probably a lot of you too, don't want to hear these days.

1) The Guardian did a survey of all current graduates looking for jobs. The results were as I expected. We're all going through the same depressing farce. 25% of us have lost out on jobs we want, due to 'lack of experience.' This brings me to the first thing I don't want to hear. Every single job, in the hundreds I've applied for in the last 6 months, has ended with the same inevitable result. I've passed tests (even numerical), I've submitted CVs. I've gone to interviews. The final feedback is always the same: "We liked you but another candidate was more experienced for the role."
This really frustrates me. These are jobs advertised as first job positions. Jobs geared towards graduates. Job advertisments which say 'No previous experience required. Full training provided.'. The sheer magnitude of applications mean, however, that they are able to add further boundaries because somewhat over experienced people are going for these jobs as well, due to a never diminishing over-subscribed job market. I get it, honestly I do. I accept the fact that others are more qualified than me and deserve the job more. What I don't get is how you go about getting the experience needed. Because nobody hires without experience!!! 'Internships?' I hear you ask. Alas, according to the Guardian, another sizeable chunk of us found that unless you know somebody in the business, or have a relative working there, you aren't going to get in. Brilliant.


2) The second thing I really don't want to hear is "The orchid's dead, move on." Since a very kind friend gifted me with some beautiful purple orchids at a dinner party in March, I've been caring for them like they are my child. I've been watering them with tepid water (the instructions said TEPID), I been monitoring their moistness (MOIST) to make sure I don't over-water, and I've been moving them from room to room, and climate to climate, to ensure they have variety in their day to day life. And so far, much to my immense surprise, they've survived and they're healthy. I think they've become a social experiment for me. Keeping them alive is proving that I am not incompetent. That I can do something successful. It's a necessary component for my remaining optimism. So the day I hear, "The orchid's dead, move on" will be the day I officially give up. Maybe it's like the rose in Beauty and the Beast. Except I'm less mean (and less furry). If the last petal drops, I'll be stuck this way forever! But does that mean I won't age?? Because I really wouldn't mind that.

3) The third thing I really don't want to hear is 'Looks like snow's on the way again'. I'm a patient woman. That's a fact. If you remember my post last year about our current weather being much colder than other countries at this time of year (http://au-where.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/here-comes-sun.html) I wrote my complaint last year while it was still April, so obviously things had cheered up by this time of the year. It's a week until June. JUNE. This time last year, because I remember it was when my sister was visiting for Eurovision (http://au-where.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/nil-pointsbut-big-love.html) for the last time I saw her before she became a Californian Girl, we were sunbathing. SUNBATHING. In shorts! In England! It was literally high 20s! This year- it isn't even scraping mid-teens. And according to the weather people (not to be mistaken with the Village People http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=InBXu-iY7cw- sorry, I have to sing that. Every time. Part of my own personal Constitution.) there could be snow in places in the U.K this weekend?? What??? I've gone so long without sun that my skin has become a dangerously white colour, the equivalent of Voldemort. Not an exaggeration.If I develop a snake's nose, you'll know something a tad more sinister is going on. It's gotten to that point that it usually gets to in mid-Winter where you think "I can't honestly imagine it ever being sunny again." Except that emotion has been continuing for about 8 months now. I haven't gone out without a jacket since mid-September. Wow.

What I saw when I smiled in the mirror this morning

So there you have it, crew. Sorry, that sounded a bit nautical, guess I shouldn't have watched the entire 'In the Navy' music video there
"I'm afraid of waaaater!"

Those are the three things I really don't want to hear today. What do you not want to hear? Do let me know. Unless of course it's "She's posted another blog, oh crud!"

QOTR

“Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.”

Hey there, old (only as old as you feel) friends! 

This Saturday I found myself reading 'The Bell Jar'. Reading 'The Bell Jar' and eating cake. I can tell you are all thinking 'Oh no, it's one of THOSE posts.'

 It's not.

I actually had a jolly sort of day and it provided some sort of comfort for my current apres-education predicament.

The character in the novel, Esther, is an English graduate who can't get a job. An English graduate who likes writing and has based her years of education on being commended for a good job, for being creative. Of course, Esther goes one further by ending up in an asylum, and I don't think I'm quite teetering so close to the edge of a break down (though some mornings when the air is rife with the stench of rejection letters, I find myself Patrick Bateman laughing and Chris Brander face pulling), but the general sudden realisation of I don't know' when asked what you're doing after college is certainly familiar. ( “What do you have in mind after you graduate?'
'I don't really know,' I heard myself say. I felt a deep shock, hearing myself say
that, because the minute I said it, I knew it was true.”)

Not much has changed since the 50s/60s: “I didn't know shorthand either.

This meant I couldn't get a good job after college. My mother kept telling me nobody wanted a plain English major. But an English major who knew shorthand would be something else again. Everybody would want her. She would be in demand among all the up-and-coming young men and she would transcribe letter after thrilling letter.

The trouble was, I hated the idea of serving men in any way. I wanted to dictate my own thrilling letters.”

It all seems to be about who has the most additional skills they can contribute to a job. And with every Tom, Dick and Harry constantly bettering themselves, it becomes a bit of a challenge. I lived abroad so I could improve my German. Additional language: check.
I got relevant experience in several different mediums of writing: check.
I have a range of interests and, let's face it, a rather amazing personality.
But it doesn't seem to be enough.

I was recently talking to my friend in the U.S, and she said something that has really stuck with me. "I feel as if my life has slowed down considerably in the last few months, and I'm trying everything I can to speed it back up." And this is something worryingly familiar to a whole generation of 18-25 year olds at the minute. Very few of my friends who have jobs are doing jobs they imagined they'd be doing, or that have any long term prospect of increased prosperity. Those of us unemployed hear of wonderful statistics such as our universities having a 95% after education employment rate and we can't help but laugh at our incredible good fortune to be the minority. A vast number have gone on to further education as a chance to get ahead,, but for those of us with no funds and no chance of affording the fees, even with scholarships, there is a bleak sense of no possibility whatsoever.

It's a strange place to be in, this no-man's land, and I find myself increasing losing my capacity to think. I'm slower at doing the Times crossword, I haven't been reading enough, I feel like the best sentence I can form sometimes is 'Me like cookies!' and there's a sort of silence that descends on me when I don't find any jobs to apply to and when I don't know what to do with myself.

Meanwhile, I had to Sign On a few weeks ago, but so far all I've received is four trips to the centre, a patronising talk about how to make a CV, several accusations of being foreign and zero money whatsoever...so it begins to feel like all I'm doing is spending a few hours questioning my own person and my own abilities just for the fun of it, with no compensation for my time.



We were promised a lot more by the older generations for our early 20s- this is supposed to be the time we truly become ourselves, with the people we are destined to love, and live in the places we are meant to be and that we've always dreamed of. 

I've prepared a film referencing system. Here we were: fresh faced youth ready for our next big adventure, straight off the graduate train of success and exam completion.

Pretty happy, eh?

After a few months of being minimum wage workers, or unemployed, or emotionally ravaged by the pressing loneliness of suddenly being without your closest friends indefinitely, we somewhat more resemble these poor guys:

"You got a little Chow?"

"OHMYGAAAWD!"

"Yeah, yeah, you...
you make my dreams come true!

IRONY!





So, I guess my point is: if anybody's got a way to turbo charge these years back into the good times they are meant to be, please go right ahead!

In other news, I'm going to see a comedy show with my mum at the weekend....but we're sitting in rows C +Q...so really it's going to be like going to a comedy show on my own! Which is the emotional equivalent of listening to Saint Saens 'The Swan' while doing a sad Mime Artist routine which involves (real) Ugly Crying silently while an audience breathily salivates over popcorn and smelly nachos.

Good times!