Hello and welcome to a slightly melancholy spinster sermon. It's not Sunday but as we're not in church either, I think it's OK. Getting Away With It by Electronic sums up the mood quite well. I used to listen to it on repeat in my Sony Walkman, on a battered old tape I'd copied from someone at school when I was 14. I listened to it tirelessly when on my first holiday away with mum after the divorce. It was a terribly gloomy affair in Jersey with mum crying because she missed her new boyfriend. I was similarly lovelorn but with Anthony Kelly, the object of my affection who had snogged someone else at the last disco as I hadn't been allowed out due to excessive naughtiness (I'd cheeked my parents or some other travesty admitted to at the Saturday confessional at my local Roman Catholic church).
Now is an odd time of comings and goings. The 'Fall' rather than Autumn is quite apt. The highs of Bacchanalian delights in the desert followed by 'I'm going to make a change!' followed by a last and final, for now, rejection into the worlds of suitable employ in England. I have grown quite accustomed to romantic rejections. I even advanced to level of rejector over recent years after almost falling in love, but the work world was always quite kind to me. I was always offered an interview upon application and then a job following interview. That has not been the reality in England.
I landed in England on the 1st August 2010 and merrily began my applications. I applied to retrain as a teacher. With over 4 years experience in Asia, I thought this would go fairly well. I was rejected as my degree was not in English but Communications. I applied to run the membership and events for the Salopian Club for Shrewsbury School but did not receive a response. I was offered work at Stokesay Court where Atonement was filmed, but there was no money so I'd have to find a way to make profits. In Heritage, this can be tricky, so I had to keep applying. BBC North were recruiting so I spent days going through their application processes, watching videos and saying what Bob should do next. I still receive helpful emails saying they're still mulling things over. I applied to look after studies for Berlitz in Manchester, but was told I needed to have done the job already to get the job. I signed up with Michael Page in Manchester and am, I believe, still on file. I joined Monster, Hays, Total Jobs, Page Personnel and Office Angels. Nothing.
I applied for a Christmas temp job at Waterstones bookshop in Shrewsbury. After a two hour interview, I was awarded a 10 hour contract. That kept me busy over snowy winter. I met a likely bunch of lovely Shire folk and proceeded to drink until 4am at every given opportunity at the local gay night. There I would meet folks I assumed in fancy dress, having been here for 2 years, I now know this is how country folk dress. They really do attend pheasant shoots, wear red pants, padded gilets and flat caps. Then it was the New Year and my contract was over.
I signed up with some new agencies in January of 2011. Mercia Recruitment, A&D Recruitment, Absolute Personnel, Travail Employment Group and Proactive Personnel. Nothing. I spoke with an ex-boss who tried to set me up with a three month fundraising assistant role, but I was foreign to Derby so not eligible. I was offered an interview as Marketing Consultant on a not bad wage. The main portfolio was of property, but then there was the abattoir. I thought that rather flew in the face of previous animal rights projects I'd helped out on so politely declined.
My money has run out. I am about to sign on. I see a sign in the local pub/hotel's window for barwork. I pop in. I get my minimum wage on and work for three months as an illegal immigrant. I do lose a stone though with 60 hour weeks. The abusive French managers and Geordie chefs is a new sensation.
Then I am saved. I get a six month contract working for the National Trust, as Assistant Visitor Services Manager at Powis Castle & Gardens. I know this is my foot in the door. I shall soon be leapfrogging through the charity, garnering accolades with every pirouette I make around the castle. Mais non.
By Christmas of 2011, it is very cold. Mum and I are no longer on speaking terms having lived together in a teeny house for too long. I move out to a lovely Tudor house in the countryside. I can only afford a room on NT salary (and Waterstones salary - I am working every day off from the castle to make rent). It looks like a chocolate box. It is not. The landlord has mental issues and is having an incestuous affair with his sister. He has not worked in two years, hence renting his house out. Everything is filthy. There is no heating. The water is cold. It drops to minus 17. A new lodger moves in with no neck, little language and heavy neck scars. He starts dealing hospital grade methadone to the other residents. I leave. I don't get my deposit back.
I move back in with mum for a few weeks but things are tense so I move out to much more modern and clinical apartment in Shrewsbury. This owner seems to have mental issues too. She locks her two new baby kittens in the flat while she works on 24 hour shifts. I come home to a litter tray every evening. There are no tables. The TV is on the floor. Cats roll around in her hair extensions and their sick. I leave.
I move back in with mum and am told I have a couple of weeks til I must find alternative lodgings.
Meanwhile, I've been applying for other jobs with a desperation I never thought possible. I am becoming slightly unhinged. I go for an interview at Sissinghurst in Kent. I am told I do not have enough local knowledge. I go for an interview at Dunham Massey, they hire the recent grad. I go for an interview at The Lowry, they go for someone with more experience. I am sending two applications a week out, with no response. Not just a CV and a covering letter, mind you, but a full online, question answering application. I am tired. Really tired.
I saw a lot of these:
I just want to start by saying how much we enjoyed meeting you yesterday. Your enthusiasm was very evident - and infectious!
As you know, we had almost 400 applicants for this one role so being shortlisted was an achievement in itself. But I am afraid that, on this occasion, you were unsuccessful.
and these
Whilst we were pleased to meet with you and hear your ideas and we were impressed by your thoughtful approach in preparing for the interview, I regret to inform you that you have been unsuccessful on this occasion.
And lots of other generic ones.
So, here is my swansong to the UK. For now.
Peace be with you mofos!
x
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