The frustration of job-hunting

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The frustration of job-hunting

I always forget that job hunting is in fact a full time job in itself. I have spent approximately six hours a day sifting through reams and reams of online lists looking for and applying to what seems like an infinite list of very basic job descriptions to no avail. I have thoughtfully and faithfully applied myself to some of the most mundane and boring job applications known to man, and not even received an AUTOMATED EMAIL to say ‘Thank you for wasting your time writing out what I’m sure was a carefully planned and original job application’.  I have not received ONE response, which can only mean that whichever idiot that told me to leave out the well-thought-out personal statement which introduced my work history, is simply just an idiot, as I used to get far more response than this with a CV which followed NONE of the conventions of CV writing set out by ‘THE MAN’.

The thing is, I’m applying to rather a lot of marketing and communications jobs at the moment, making use of every SOCIAL NETWORKING site known to man, diving to the murky depths of Totaljobs, Monster, Indeed, Prospects, Milkround and every recruitment agency with a telephone number and a website. I have even gone as far as sharing with them the web address to this blog so that they can get really up, close and personal with me, but I guess it’s like that line that Daniel Atlas uses as his motto in ‘Now You See Me’; “The closer you look, the less you see”. Maybe I should treat it like an online dating profile and not show them all my best cards at once, you know, string them along like a girl who just wants to have fun.

It’s kind of like being the ugly girl at the party. You put on your best dress, cover up the blackheads with foundation, powder and a bit of bronzer,you’ll line your eyes and flatter them like they’ve never been flattered, and tuck yourself into tight Spandex pants to make the wobbly bits less wobbly, yet even a simple hello to some of the least catchy men at the party is met with a one word response before you return to the comfort of your friends who will lovingly ply you with white lies about how they cannot believe how you can’t get what you want. My apologies for the dark metaphor, it is the only thing remotely close to the rejection of a job application.

The final straw of rejection came through this morning when even the Preston benefits office rejected my application on the grounds of some sort of tax review that they carried out from the last two years, not really explaining what it was, but nonetheless, unless I go back into the thankless world of hospitality soon. All I thought was ‘Oh great, I’m even lower than Lancaster’s chavs’  I am going to be eating baked beans for eternity.

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