I've had no full-time work since I left university and, believe me, it hasn't been for lack of effort. After a somewhat fruitless attempt to get onto the property ladder and make some money in development, I turned my hand to journalism, attempting to get publishing anywhere and everywhere in the hope that it might land me some cash. However, things have been getting increasingly desperate as my departure date for Canada looms and my bar job is not really allowing me to accumulate anything even slightly resembling a 'running away fund'.
Calling recruitment agencies is like a kind of telephonic Russian Roulette. For every 6 calls you make, there's usually 5 where the revolver (or, if the metaphor is lost on you, 'handset') clicks and the person on the other end is pleasant, articulate and chirpy. However, like clockwork, there comes the instance where the person you've phoned is grumpy, terse and deeply unhelpful (and, usually, male). Bang! And now I've got to clean bits of brain off the sofa upholstery. It's a fairly soul-destroying process at the best of time, ringing around for temp work, and its made all the more unpleasant by these miserable bastards you have to speak to every so often. Shame on them.
I've had no full-time work since I left university and, believe me, it hasn't been for lack of effort. After a somewhat fruitless attempt to get onto the property ladder and make some money in development, I turned my hand to journalism, attempting to get publishing anywhere and everywhere in the hope that it might land me some cash. However, things have been getting increasingly desperate as my departure date for Canada looms and my bar job is not really allowing me to accumulate anything even slightly resembling a 'running away fund'.
Calling recruitment agencies is like a kind of telephonic Russian Roulette. For every 6 calls you make, there's usually 5 where the revolver (or, if the metaphor is lost on you, 'handset') clicks and the person on the other end is pleasant, articulate and chirpy. However, like clockwork, there comes the instance where the person you've phoned is grumpy, terse and deeply unhelpful (and, usually, male). Bang! And now I've got to clean bits of brain off the sofa upholstery. It's a fairly soul-destroying process at the best of time, ringing around for temp work, and its made all the more unpleasant by these miserable bastards you have to speak to every so often. Shame on them.
No comments:
Post a Comment