Cover letters are like teaser trailers for the main event - the CV. A teaser trailer gives snippets of the main story in order to draw in a paying audience to see the movie. Trailers have a very limited amount of time in which to do that, and they must stand out amongst all the other trailers being shown at the same time.
I was helping a friend write a cover letter for a job application. He'd send me a draft, and I'd scan-read it and report back. Then he'd make some changes, send it back, and I'd do the same until either he or I was happy. More often than not I was telling him to cut something out, or reword it to make it shorter.
I think there is a habit amongst recent graduates to try to divulge information in incredibly convoluted language. It's a habit most likely picked up from reading complex academic journals, a habit that does not help when thrust into the job market.
So while I was waiting on another tightened redraft from my friend, I got thinking. I was trying to get him to make the first paragraph of his cover letter short, snappy, and easy to read. What else is short, snappy and easy to read? Tweets, of course.
So I set myself the task of writing my CV in a single Tweet.
There are services and sites devoted to using Twitter for jobhunting; here's a list of some of them, and here's another jobhunting site using Twitter. However, most of them involve normal full-sized CVs, and I'm not entirely convinced of their use (prove me wrong please, if you can!).
I wrote my Tweet CV and I was quite proud of its pith, until I found this competition run in January by workthing (workthing's blog is truly excellent by the way). You can find the winner here and also some honourable mentions and bad examples here. Mine turned out to be rather weak by comparison! I'm going to keep working on my Tweet CV; I could spend a whole lot of time making it perfect.
In of itself, a Tweet CV might not be much use, but I still heartily recommend having a go at writing yours because it's a really good exercise in writing short, snappy, work profiles. The 140 character limit is a great motivator for using language creatively and effectively.
I did then ask myself if this was a worrying degradation of language into soulless 140 character sentences. Is it a gross reduction of one's life into one line? Is this a grassroots introduction of Orwellian newsspeak?
My answer to all of these questions: Not at all. In my final year of high school I was awarded an A for my Advanced English portfolio, which had consisted only of one short poem and one piece of prose written almost entirely in AOL speak. Had Twitter existed in 2003 I probably would have done a piece based on that instead. The point is not to reduce the feeling, or the beauty of the language. The challenge is to compact it without losing meaning, beauty, or indeed originality.
Translating these ideas to the challenge of creating your own Tweet CV should help you to understand the purpose of a good cover letter.
(You could also try expressing your career in 10-line poetry too, if you like...I would just not advise sending that out to employers!)
Kind of related:
These sites don't show you how to sell yourself in one sentence, but they do talk about using social media to win you a job, which after last week's post on how it can lose you a job, I thought would be a positive list to include.
CV or not CV: Twitter tips
Does your Twitter handle belong on your resume?
Is Twitter the new CV?
Tweet yourself to a new job
Want a dream Job? Blog, Tweet or Youtube it!
Showing posts with label employment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label employment. Show all posts
Monday, 26 April 2010
Friday, 23 April 2010
Guidelines 4: Presenting Presence as a Present
Be really aware of your cyber footprint.
So, you called up about the advertised position and asked a few well thought of questions, handed in your CV and were polite to the door staff on your way in. Your CV shows you have great experience, and it's well laid out and typo-free. Great, your real-life impressions really are great. But how does your reputation stand online?
Chances are you are going to get googlestalked, so start ego-surfing and googling yourself and making sure you look just a good on screen as you do on paper. Just be careful. Could anybody find any tweets about how drunk you got, badly spelled blog posts, dodgy pictures from last Saturday night, potentially controversial outbursts on the comments page of your favourite news site, or posts on frequented internet forums that demonstrate you to be an intolerant bully. Are there any news stories about you? Do you have a profile on your current or past organisation's website?
Employers are looking out for this kind of stuff. I know people who've had to deal with repercussions from their social networking profiles. I know people who have had to sign disclaimers on application forms indicating which social networking sites they frequent, and accepting that these might be checked up on prior to/during/after application sifting.
I haven't had to sign a disclaimer like that, but I knew it would happen anyway. Late last year a former colleague (and current good friend) of mine sent me a facebook message that said:
"YOU: Your name is the most commonly searched for term on the organisation's website. I take it you're job hunting at the moment then!"
And it's nothing less than I expected. I should point out I wasn't still with that organisation while I was job hunting, but that might be something else to consider, if you're currently still employed but looking elsewhere.
I didn't expect my blog to get me a job (that's not why I started it) but I knew it could lose me any potential job. I know that prospective employers have read this very blog and followed me on Twitter and I even know how they found my information online (cheers, statcounter).
All that talk about employers using google to find out about their workers is true. Have a cyber spring clean if you need to. Have it now.
Because it seems to be that "public is the default" these days on web 2.0 sites, make sure you know exactly what privacy settings you have on any internet media you use, and if you use your real name or publish your email address. Make sure you know who you're friends with on facebook or any other social networking site and also what groups and discussions you've joined and participated in.
It's not a case of making everything private and deleting yourself from the internet, but it's just a case of making sure that first of all the information is employer-friendly, and also that it all adds up. If you've made the mistake of exaggerating your skills, experience or interests on your CV or in an interview, and the information online represents something else entirely, this can easily be picked up on and you could be left wondering why you never got that call back.
Basically, stalk yourself online, and make sure you what you find makes you look like the kind of person you'd like to work with.
Want to find out more?
How's your cyber footprint?
Job hunting grads need to tidy up their web presence.
Job hunting in the web 2.0 jungle.
Cyber vetting and your net rep.
Facebook and Twitter hazards.
And... to see how not to do it, there's always lamebook.
So, you called up about the advertised position and asked a few well thought of questions, handed in your CV and were polite to the door staff on your way in. Your CV shows you have great experience, and it's well laid out and typo-free. Great, your real-life impressions really are great. But how does your reputation stand online?
Chances are you are going to get googlestalked, so start ego-surfing and googling yourself and making sure you look just a good on screen as you do on paper. Just be careful. Could anybody find any tweets about how drunk you got, badly spelled blog posts, dodgy pictures from last Saturday night, potentially controversial outbursts on the comments page of your favourite news site, or posts on frequented internet forums that demonstrate you to be an intolerant bully. Are there any news stories about you? Do you have a profile on your current or past organisation's website?
Employers are looking out for this kind of stuff. I know people who've had to deal with repercussions from their social networking profiles. I know people who have had to sign disclaimers on application forms indicating which social networking sites they frequent, and accepting that these might be checked up on prior to/during/after application sifting.
I haven't had to sign a disclaimer like that, but I knew it would happen anyway. Late last year a former colleague (and current good friend) of mine sent me a facebook message that said:
"YOU: Your name is the most commonly searched for term on the organisation's website. I take it you're job hunting at the moment then!"
And it's nothing less than I expected. I should point out I wasn't still with that organisation while I was job hunting, but that might be something else to consider, if you're currently still employed but looking elsewhere.
I didn't expect my blog to get me a job (that's not why I started it) but I knew it could lose me any potential job. I know that prospective employers have read this very blog and followed me on Twitter and I even know how they found my information online (cheers, statcounter).
All that talk about employers using google to find out about their workers is true. Have a cyber spring clean if you need to. Have it now.
Because it seems to be that "public is the default" these days on web 2.0 sites, make sure you know exactly what privacy settings you have on any internet media you use, and if you use your real name or publish your email address. Make sure you know who you're friends with on facebook or any other social networking site and also what groups and discussions you've joined and participated in.
It's not a case of making everything private and deleting yourself from the internet, but it's just a case of making sure that first of all the information is employer-friendly, and also that it all adds up. If you've made the mistake of exaggerating your skills, experience or interests on your CV or in an interview, and the information online represents something else entirely, this can easily be picked up on and you could be left wondering why you never got that call back.
Basically, stalk yourself online, and make sure you what you find makes you look like the kind of person you'd like to work with.
Want to find out more?
How's your cyber footprint?
Job hunting grads need to tidy up their web presence.
Job hunting in the web 2.0 jungle.
Cyber vetting and your net rep.
Facebook and Twitter hazards.
And... to see how not to do it, there's always lamebook.
Monday, 19 April 2010
Guidelines 3: Two second rule
Imagine yourself as the man (or woman!) behind the desk. Crisp white shirt, smart tie, picture of your family smiling on your desk. On the desk is a messy pile of stapled sheets of white paper. Which one holds the key to your next employee of the month?
I think I read in a jobhunting book once that it is useful to imagine the process of hiring from the perspective of the employer. When you look at it, it can be just as gruelling for the employer as for the jobhunter.
To get an idea, WSJ have a good description of the hiring process here, and here's a checklist that any jobhunter could bear in mind when applying for work. Oh, and here is a useful blog that I'd bookmark, if I were you.
The employer might be spending a lot of money and time on the hiring process, because they want to make sure that they get the right person first time round. The more you can do to help your prospective employer read your application, the more they will like you. The more they like you...well, you catch my drift. So, after having made a good intial impression, you'll definitely want to make a good impression on your application.
And you've got just two seconds to make that good impression.
Is it really true that employers don't read CVs? Is the two-second scan a real thing?
I'm not going to pretend to be an HR expert or anything here, but I've sat on both sides of the jobhunting fence. This is purely anecdotal and there are lots of other resources available online that can say more about this phenomenon, so I'll give you just two key hints here.
But yeah, I'd say about two seconds is all I need to read your CV.
I can tell if you've read the advertisement/job description. I can tell if you have relevant experience. I can tell if you have the motivation. I can tell if you're underqualified or overqualified. And if I can, your employer can too.
Here are my hints to help you shine in those two seconds of fame:
1. Make your CV scan-friendly.
You need a clear and concise layout for your CV. Make use of whitespace and bullet points, only include directly relevant information and make sure that the points you want the employer to notice are the most obvious. Don't include rambling paragraphs with no clear indication of what information you want the employer to infer from reading it. You need to sign point everything (and you'll see that this relates really closely to hint number two).
For example, you might be really proud of your degree, or your knitting group, but if the job description calls for project management experience or analysis skills, then your degree and knitting group are less important.
Unless of course, you outline it something like this:
And I should add that it's okay not to have relevant experience, or if you don't have the right qualifications. If you can use language to apply the experience you do have to the specifics of the role, or can demonstrate that you understand exactly what the job requires and can prove that you have transferable experience, you might be okay.
2. Put some imitation in your application.
Keywords, keywords, keywords!
They can be the key to accessing the next stage of the process (groan).
The best trick I learned was to use the exact language of the job description in an application. If the application calls for "superior communication skills" don't write that you are "an excellent communicator" or that you "have demonstrable experience in communications"... you write that your experience/achievements demonstrate... what? You've guessed it, "superior communication skills."
Pick out the keywords from a job description and make a point of including them in your CV/cover letter.
This works on two levels. If your application is read by a computer, there are certain keywords the computer is searching for that will determine if you get through to the next round. If your application is read by a human being, it can subliminally encourage them to put your application into the 'interview' pile. Whether or not that's true, or whether that works, it can demonstrate that you have carefully scrutinised the description and submitted a well crafted, specific and relevant application, rather than a standard, generic CV copy.
I suppose, put simply, you are trying to rewrite the job description while putting your name on it. I'd add two extra hints here: First, do not add anything extra that the job description doesn't mention unless you really think it's relevant and relates to what they are looking for (e.g. don't tell your life story, don't try to explain why speaking four languages might be relevant unless they mention languages, don't say you can play an instrument). Second: don't apologise if you don't have the exact skills mentioned on the job description. Doing that just highlights your weak points.
This is a really basic introduction, but there is plenty of information about this kind of thing. Try these links for more:
10 resume mistakes. These mistakes unpack some of the points I've made here, and mistake number 8 relates to keywords. Ignore at your peril!
Passing the 3 second test. Hey, it's more generous than me, that's a whole second longer!
Is your resume ready for the 20-second scan? 20 seconds is even lengthier! I'll point out that in section one, about ensuring your application is spelling mistake free, they misname the font 'Arial' as 'Ariel'... Ha. But if nothing else, these sites prove that what I say is right on the money.
I think I read in a jobhunting book once that it is useful to imagine the process of hiring from the perspective of the employer. When you look at it, it can be just as gruelling for the employer as for the jobhunter.
To get an idea, WSJ have a good description of the hiring process here, and here's a checklist that any jobhunter could bear in mind when applying for work. Oh, and here is a useful blog that I'd bookmark, if I were you.
The employer might be spending a lot of money and time on the hiring process, because they want to make sure that they get the right person first time round. The more you can do to help your prospective employer read your application, the more they will like you. The more they like you...well, you catch my drift. So, after having made a good intial impression, you'll definitely want to make a good impression on your application.
And you've got just two seconds to make that good impression.
Is it really true that employers don't read CVs? Is the two-second scan a real thing?
I'm not going to pretend to be an HR expert or anything here, but I've sat on both sides of the jobhunting fence. This is purely anecdotal and there are lots of other resources available online that can say more about this phenomenon, so I'll give you just two key hints here.
But yeah, I'd say about two seconds is all I need to read your CV.
I can tell if you've read the advertisement/job description. I can tell if you have relevant experience. I can tell if you have the motivation. I can tell if you're underqualified or overqualified. And if I can, your employer can too.
Here are my hints to help you shine in those two seconds of fame:
1. Make your CV scan-friendly.
You need a clear and concise layout for your CV. Make use of whitespace and bullet points, only include directly relevant information and make sure that the points you want the employer to notice are the most obvious. Don't include rambling paragraphs with no clear indication of what information you want the employer to infer from reading it. You need to sign point everything (and you'll see that this relates really closely to hint number two).
For example, you might be really proud of your degree, or your knitting group, but if the job description calls for project management experience or analysis skills, then your degree and knitting group are less important.
Unless of course, you outline it something like this:
- analysis skills: gained through 'data analysis' module as part of degree, and through thorough research for degree thesis.
- project management experience: initiated and developed successful knitting group and coordinated several events to promote knitting as well as managing a charity knitting campaign that raised £X.
And I should add that it's okay not to have relevant experience, or if you don't have the right qualifications. If you can use language to apply the experience you do have to the specifics of the role, or can demonstrate that you understand exactly what the job requires and can prove that you have transferable experience, you might be okay.
2. Put some imitation in your application.
Keywords, keywords, keywords!
They can be the key to accessing the next stage of the process (groan).
The best trick I learned was to use the exact language of the job description in an application. If the application calls for "superior communication skills" don't write that you are "an excellent communicator" or that you "have demonstrable experience in communications"... you write that your experience/achievements demonstrate... what? You've guessed it, "superior communication skills."
Pick out the keywords from a job description and make a point of including them in your CV/cover letter.
This works on two levels. If your application is read by a computer, there are certain keywords the computer is searching for that will determine if you get through to the next round. If your application is read by a human being, it can subliminally encourage them to put your application into the 'interview' pile. Whether or not that's true, or whether that works, it can demonstrate that you have carefully scrutinised the description and submitted a well crafted, specific and relevant application, rather than a standard, generic CV copy.
I suppose, put simply, you are trying to rewrite the job description while putting your name on it. I'd add two extra hints here: First, do not add anything extra that the job description doesn't mention unless you really think it's relevant and relates to what they are looking for (e.g. don't tell your life story, don't try to explain why speaking four languages might be relevant unless they mention languages, don't say you can play an instrument). Second: don't apologise if you don't have the exact skills mentioned on the job description. Doing that just highlights your weak points.
This is a really basic introduction, but there is plenty of information about this kind of thing. Try these links for more:
10 resume mistakes. These mistakes unpack some of the points I've made here, and mistake number 8 relates to keywords. Ignore at your peril!
Passing the 3 second test. Hey, it's more generous than me, that's a whole second longer!
Is your resume ready for the 20-second scan? 20 seconds is even lengthier! I'll point out that in section one, about ensuring your application is spelling mistake free, they misname the font 'Arial' as 'Ariel'... Ha. But if nothing else, these sites prove that what I say is right on the money.
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Commuter Blues 1
I enjoy my new job and I've already learned a lot in the month and a bit that I've been working there.
I just had the first few days off since I started this new decade. Since I leapt from one job to the next (finishing one on Sunday and starting the next on Monday) I've been ticking along. But it was really lovely to have a few days off, not least because I turned 25 during those few days, and so I caught up with friends in a rolling weekend of vague plans and beautiful tableau situations, of mirth and ice cream, tea and gossip.
But, as I now enter the tumble down from early twenties to late twenties and eventually into my thirties (eep!), I have made a whole-hearted decision to have a quarter-life crisis. I'm already listing what this might entail on my twitter. Does anyone have any other suggestions?
For my birthday a friend gave me a Cath Kidston bus pass cover which seems to embody the essence of my quarter-life crisis. Cath Kidston is a top label chintz emblazoned emblem for the middle-class home-style country-living dream. Having a bus pass though, at my age particularly, has been considered by some to be a sign of life failure. Of course, I say this with tongue placed firmly in cheek.
At the moment my work commute is 60-90 minutes each way. I have done this type of commute before and it's no problem really. It is significantly improved by a large part of it involving a bus rolling past the hills and fields of the countryside as opposed to chugging alongside the choked up rat-race streets of the city. I work like clockwork every morning and read on the bus and get some exercise by walking a good part of the way. But this travelling makes for a long day, and my weekends are spent relaxing and catching up with people in other parts of the country. This is my roundabout excuse for blogging little lately. At least I'm eloquent with it, yes?
And I am TRYING to learn to drive... but more on that later.
I just had the first few days off since I started this new decade. Since I leapt from one job to the next (finishing one on Sunday and starting the next on Monday) I've been ticking along. But it was really lovely to have a few days off, not least because I turned 25 during those few days, and so I caught up with friends in a rolling weekend of vague plans and beautiful tableau situations, of mirth and ice cream, tea and gossip.
But, as I now enter the tumble down from early twenties to late twenties and eventually into my thirties (eep!), I have made a whole-hearted decision to have a quarter-life crisis. I'm already listing what this might entail on my twitter. Does anyone have any other suggestions?
For my birthday a friend gave me a Cath Kidston bus pass cover which seems to embody the essence of my quarter-life crisis. Cath Kidston is a top label chintz emblazoned emblem for the middle-class home-style country-living dream. Having a bus pass though, at my age particularly, has been considered by some to be a sign of life failure. Of course, I say this with tongue placed firmly in cheek.
At the moment my work commute is 60-90 minutes each way. I have done this type of commute before and it's no problem really. It is significantly improved by a large part of it involving a bus rolling past the hills and fields of the countryside as opposed to chugging alongside the choked up rat-race streets of the city. I work like clockwork every morning and read on the bus and get some exercise by walking a good part of the way. But this travelling makes for a long day, and my weekends are spent relaxing and catching up with people in other parts of the country. This is my roundabout excuse for blogging little lately. At least I'm eloquent with it, yes?
And I am TRYING to learn to drive... but more on that later.
Monday, 29 March 2010
Guidelines 2: From this moment on
Before leaving my old job I helped to recruit a new me. It was actually quite useful to see the job hunting run from the other perspective. So this week I thought that I'd share what it's like to be on the other side of the CV...
First of all, first impressions do count. You are being judged from the moment you engage.
Yes, it's true. Whether you call up and enquire, or walk into your potential employer to ask about a position, or hand in a CV, you are being sized up for the role. In those few seconds. And it can't be helped.
It's not necessarily a conscious thing on the employer's part, or on the part of the employees you might speak to instead, so it's important to make a conscious effort to make a good impression the first time you make an interaction. Whether you meet the boss or the cleaner, they're judging you and they'll probably pass those judgments on... even if it's just "he seemed nice" or "I loved her shoes."
Think about what you want to say before you pick up the phone and ask about the job, and speak clearly. Ask about a specific job role, saying "I've called about the job" wouldn't be much use if they are advertising several positions.
Don't walk in and ask a current employee about the position and then insult the manager/boss/owner. You don't know work relationships yet, and you probably have no idea who you are talking you. Someone did this to me while we were hiring and I was slightly gobsmacked!
Do feel free to be friendly with the current employees, regardless of their role. You might be working with them one day. If they seem amiable and available, feel free to ask them about the job/business. If they seem busy and stressed out, come back later and don't bug them. Try to preempt when it might be less busy for them. For a sandwich bar, late afternoon is best, for a restaurant, in between settings is best, for an office position, you may have to do some research to see if there are big events or news stories taking place that might be taking up the employees' time, or you might just have to hedge your bets and take a guess. They'll let you know... the number of times I was working in the deli and another business called us to talk shop and I had to say "you've called a sandwich bar at lunchtime, could you please call back at 3pm?"
Show enthusiasm about applying for the job. Whether you are calling up, handing in a CV, or just asking if there are any jobs - stride in, smile, and show them that you'd enjoy working there. That's the best impression you can give.
If all that sounds obvious to you, of course, then you're halfway there already...
First of all, first impressions do count. You are being judged from the moment you engage.
Yes, it's true. Whether you call up and enquire, or walk into your potential employer to ask about a position, or hand in a CV, you are being sized up for the role. In those few seconds. And it can't be helped.
It's not necessarily a conscious thing on the employer's part, or on the part of the employees you might speak to instead, so it's important to make a conscious effort to make a good impression the first time you make an interaction. Whether you meet the boss or the cleaner, they're judging you and they'll probably pass those judgments on... even if it's just "he seemed nice" or "I loved her shoes."
Think about what you want to say before you pick up the phone and ask about the job, and speak clearly. Ask about a specific job role, saying "I've called about the job" wouldn't be much use if they are advertising several positions.
Don't walk in and ask a current employee about the position and then insult the manager/boss/owner. You don't know work relationships yet, and you probably have no idea who you are talking you. Someone did this to me while we were hiring and I was slightly gobsmacked!
Do feel free to be friendly with the current employees, regardless of their role. You might be working with them one day. If they seem amiable and available, feel free to ask them about the job/business. If they seem busy and stressed out, come back later and don't bug them. Try to preempt when it might be less busy for them. For a sandwich bar, late afternoon is best, for a restaurant, in between settings is best, for an office position, you may have to do some research to see if there are big events or news stories taking place that might be taking up the employees' time, or you might just have to hedge your bets and take a guess. They'll let you know... the number of times I was working in the deli and another business called us to talk shop and I had to say "you've called a sandwich bar at lunchtime, could you please call back at 3pm?"
Show enthusiasm about applying for the job. Whether you are calling up, handing in a CV, or just asking if there are any jobs - stride in, smile, and show them that you'd enjoy working there. That's the best impression you can give.
If all that sounds obvious to you, of course, then you're halfway there already...
Monday, 15 February 2010
see-saw for thought
Many people use the new year as a time for reflection and taking mental stock. I use long bus journeys.
This bus journey in particular was heading towards a job interview, unexpected, but very welcome, as a result of the phone call the other week.
It is almost exactly a year since I finished (what will hopefully be) my last stint in a temp job, called up a friend and met for burgers and pints; a joint celebration/commiseration while waiting for the future to begin. Since the job market was shoddy and it looked unlikely I'd find another temp job soon, and I was already almost over-stretching in trying to balance my work/uni/life commitments, the rest of the year looked open and empty ahead of me. I had been worried about how Uni was going, about how I would find more work, worried about money and paying the rent and the council tax and the bills, worried about where I would be headed afterwards and how I was going to get a career started, I was worried about my social life and the effect that working so hard had had on my relationships with people. I was still kind of getting over a bout of flu that I'd suffered from a couple of weeks before, feeling exhausted because my body hadn't quite recovered and because the weather was dark and sharp in the cold, lingering grip of Scottish winter.
The future began the next day when I met some of my Uni friends for nachos and I met the person who was to change the course of the year and the course of my life. In the past year I have gained my degree, had language classes, gone backpacking, had an absolute blast working in the deli, gone abroad and gotten engaged. It is far beyond what I could have comprehended a simple year ago.
My partner and I often tell each other that we balance each other out. We are individuals, unique and different and sometimes polar opposites. But we are also a team, working together and pulling the best out of each other, giving each other a kick up when one of us is down. We are each other's harshest critics and each other's biggest champions. We are stronger together.
This is a new experience for me, something I have had to learn over the past year. I am still getting used to constantly thinking of someone else in everything that I consider, in every action I take. I'm still getting used to compromising and discussing and deciding as two people, not just one.
As I stepped off the bus and headed towards the office, I barely gave a thought to pepping myself up for the interview. If it didn't work out, it didn't matter. If that's one thing the past year has taught me, it's that I can pick myself up and start again.
With that in mind I talked myself through the 90 minute interview (mostly) confidently, answered (almost) every question eloquently and drew competency examples from my whole career. Afterwards, I bid good-day to my interviewers and got a bus to work, and that's when I started to panic about my performance.
Until a few hours passed, and I received the phone call, and I received the job offer.
Needless to say, my partner is also ecstatic for me. It's a win for the team, after all!
Unfortunately my partner did not receive the same kind of news from a job application he'd been waiting on, and that news absolutely broke my heart. I would rather that he had had the good news, over and above myself. I wanted to make it right, to balance the see-saw, even push it to his favour.
So it's been a bittersweet week for our team, a strange combination of jubilation, heartbreak, and determination.
But we're riding it together, and when you balance it out, we're doing alright.
This bus journey in particular was heading towards a job interview, unexpected, but very welcome, as a result of the phone call the other week.
It is almost exactly a year since I finished (what will hopefully be) my last stint in a temp job, called up a friend and met for burgers and pints; a joint celebration/commiseration while waiting for the future to begin. Since the job market was shoddy and it looked unlikely I'd find another temp job soon, and I was already almost over-stretching in trying to balance my work/uni/life commitments, the rest of the year looked open and empty ahead of me. I had been worried about how Uni was going, about how I would find more work, worried about money and paying the rent and the council tax and the bills, worried about where I would be headed afterwards and how I was going to get a career started, I was worried about my social life and the effect that working so hard had had on my relationships with people. I was still kind of getting over a bout of flu that I'd suffered from a couple of weeks before, feeling exhausted because my body hadn't quite recovered and because the weather was dark and sharp in the cold, lingering grip of Scottish winter.
The future began the next day when I met some of my Uni friends for nachos and I met the person who was to change the course of the year and the course of my life. In the past year I have gained my degree, had language classes, gone backpacking, had an absolute blast working in the deli, gone abroad and gotten engaged. It is far beyond what I could have comprehended a simple year ago.
My partner and I often tell each other that we balance each other out. We are individuals, unique and different and sometimes polar opposites. But we are also a team, working together and pulling the best out of each other, giving each other a kick up when one of us is down. We are each other's harshest critics and each other's biggest champions. We are stronger together.
This is a new experience for me, something I have had to learn over the past year. I am still getting used to constantly thinking of someone else in everything that I consider, in every action I take. I'm still getting used to compromising and discussing and deciding as two people, not just one.
As I stepped off the bus and headed towards the office, I barely gave a thought to pepping myself up for the interview. If it didn't work out, it didn't matter. If that's one thing the past year has taught me, it's that I can pick myself up and start again.
With that in mind I talked myself through the 90 minute interview (mostly) confidently, answered (almost) every question eloquently and drew competency examples from my whole career. Afterwards, I bid good-day to my interviewers and got a bus to work, and that's when I started to panic about my performance.
Until a few hours passed, and I received the phone call, and I received the job offer.
Needless to say, my partner is also ecstatic for me. It's a win for the team, after all!
Unfortunately my partner did not receive the same kind of news from a job application he'd been waiting on, and that news absolutely broke my heart. I would rather that he had had the good news, over and above myself. I wanted to make it right, to balance the see-saw, even push it to his favour.
So it's been a bittersweet week for our team, a strange combination of jubilation, heartbreak, and determination.
But we're riding it together, and when you balance it out, we're doing alright.
Thursday, 26 November 2009
In Soviet Russia...
Pumpkin cans you.
More pumpkin shortage fun at work today. People were trotting into the shop with purposeful beady eyes, zipping quickly around, finding one of the staff and whispering "I heard you're getting more tinned pumpkin in today. Has it arrived yet?"
It was a rumour that we had permeated, but as yet we still hadn't received confirmation. Thanksgivers' queries were met with ambivalence and vague statements. "It might arrive after 4pm, but it might not. It's not guaranteed so it could be a long shot."
We took turns working the front of the shop and guarding the pumpkin-less frontline, taking the repetitive questions.
Customer: Do you have any canned pumpkin?
Manager: No.
Customer: Are you sure?
Customer: I heard you were getting pumpkin in at four. Is it in yet?
Me: It's only three. No.
Customers: Can I reserve a can/Can you keep one aside?
Me: No, I've had more requests than we are getting pumpkin in.
Customer: When is the pumpkin coming in?
Me: after 4pm.
Customer: Can you get it in sooner?
Coming up for 4pm, it was my turn on the frontline. My colleagues were pumpkin-weary and not up for dealing with pumpkin deprived Thanksgivers. The shop was full of eager shoppers. I maintained an abrupt, but not rude, manner.
Customer: Why is it taking so long?
Me: We had to get it flown in from America.
Customer: Really?!
Me: No. I mean it does come from America originally, of course. Brits don't really do pumpkin.
Customer: Really!?
Me: Nope. Libby's is American. We have to import it. It's taking so long today because we are getting some delivered from another shop.
Customer: How much is it?
Me: Eight hundred pounds a can.
Customer: Really!?
Me: No, but I swear some people would be prepared to pay that much today.
Eventually the pumpkin arrived, my manager doled them out straight from the box, and the crowd left happy. After that, when dribs and drabs of Thanksgivers came through the door I pointed to the tiny pumpkin-pyramid without a word, they took their can, paid me and left happy. Well, almost happy: We ran out of pie crust yesterday.
Finally, as evening set in and the shop quietened down, an American girl and her mother came for a browse.
Me: The pumpkin's over there.
Mother: Oh, no, not that stuff! I use real pumpkin. Or squash, because they are basically the same.
Me: Funny you should say that...
Mother: Well, you don't use that tinned stuff, that's just no good. Anyway, we're celebrating Thanksgiving like proper Americans, we're ordering Thai!
We still had some cans left when we shut shop. I feel a bit bad for all those folks who came by and missed out, but next time, folks, get your pumpkin early so we can order more in time.
Or celebrate St.Andrews day instead. We only sold one can of haggis today, and it was vegetarian.
More pumpkin shortage fun at work today. People were trotting into the shop with purposeful beady eyes, zipping quickly around, finding one of the staff and whispering "I heard you're getting more tinned pumpkin in today. Has it arrived yet?"
It was a rumour that we had permeated, but as yet we still hadn't received confirmation. Thanksgivers' queries were met with ambivalence and vague statements. "It might arrive after 4pm, but it might not. It's not guaranteed so it could be a long shot."
We took turns working the front of the shop and guarding the pumpkin-less frontline, taking the repetitive questions.
Customer: Do you have any canned pumpkin?
Manager: No.
Customer: Are you sure?
Customer: I heard you were getting pumpkin in at four. Is it in yet?
Me: It's only three. No.
Customers: Can I reserve a can/Can you keep one aside?
Me: No, I've had more requests than we are getting pumpkin in.
Customer: When is the pumpkin coming in?
Me: after 4pm.
Customer: Can you get it in sooner?
Coming up for 4pm, it was my turn on the frontline. My colleagues were pumpkin-weary and not up for dealing with pumpkin deprived Thanksgivers. The shop was full of eager shoppers. I maintained an abrupt, but not rude, manner.
Customer: Why is it taking so long?
Me: We had to get it flown in from America.
Customer: Really?!
Me: No. I mean it does come from America originally, of course. Brits don't really do pumpkin.
Customer: Really!?
Me: Nope. Libby's is American. We have to import it. It's taking so long today because we are getting some delivered from another shop.
Customer: How much is it?
Me: Eight hundred pounds a can.
Customer: Really!?
Me: No, but I swear some people would be prepared to pay that much today.
Eventually the pumpkin arrived, my manager doled them out straight from the box, and the crowd left happy. After that, when dribs and drabs of Thanksgivers came through the door I pointed to the tiny pumpkin-pyramid without a word, they took their can, paid me and left happy. Well, almost happy: We ran out of pie crust yesterday.
Finally, as evening set in and the shop quietened down, an American girl and her mother came for a browse.
Me: The pumpkin's over there.
Mother: Oh, no, not that stuff! I use real pumpkin. Or squash, because they are basically the same.
Me: Funny you should say that...
Mother: Well, you don't use that tinned stuff, that's just no good. Anyway, we're celebrating Thanksgiving like proper Americans, we're ordering Thai!
We still had some cans left when we shut shop. I feel a bit bad for all those folks who came by and missed out, but next time, folks, get your pumpkin early so we can order more in time.
Or celebrate St.Andrews day instead. We only sold one can of haggis today, and it was vegetarian.
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Yes, we have no bananas...I mean...
As I live in smalltown Scotland I wouldn't think that this news story would have much effect on me. As it happens I feel like an innocent bystander caught in some terrible domestic argument that somehow ends up being all my fault.
My deli sells a selection of American imported products for our American population. This includes, for the months of October and November, Libby's Pumpkin in a tin. It's very difficult to get in the UK under normal circumstances, and it's almost impossible to get outside of these months. It's also reasonably expensive.
We sold out two days before Thanksgiving. Cue lots of last-minute Thanksgivers coming to our shop to find an empty space that had once been a pumpkin pyramid. Queries were met only with a shrug and a mention of a possible small consignment today.
It was ruthlessly windy and rainy today, typical for Scottish November. I was opening up the deli when I heard a knocking on the door and realised I had forgotten to unlock it on time. I headed to the front, panicking and praying that it wasn't the shop owner or I'd be in trouble.
A poor, pitiful, bedraggled figure was standing outside being battered by the wind. I remembered her from the previous day. She had bought some Aunt Jemima's products and had been disappointed to have missed the Libby's. I had told her about the pending mini-consignment of Libby's and I had also paid compliments to her cute purse.
"Is it here yet?" She asked.
"No," I replied, "I'm not sure when it will come in."
"Oh. No. Well, maybe I should just go to my class then."
In the next two hours I had a host of people ask me about the tinned stuff. When it did arrive, just twenty cans of the stuff, we kept it behind the counter and doled it out frantically like something illicit on the black market. A pimpkin. 'Ere mate, got any of the good stuff, yeah?
Within about 45 minutes it was gone. And I was back to having to console tardy Thanksgiving rookies.
At first I was quite sympathetic, but when it got to the 40th customer or so, my sympathy was becoming as depleted as our supplies of the tinned stuff. What should one expect in a small town in a country that doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving? We sell tinned haggis too, why not buy that and celebrate St.Andrews day instead?
As the afternoon wore on, customers became more desperate and pushy;
Customer: Do you have any tinned pumpkin left?
Me: No, we've sold out. Sorry.
Customer: Shit. But I heard you were getting more in today!
Me: We did at lunchtime, but it sold out.
Customer: (disbelievingly) Already?
Me: It sold out in less than an hour. We might get some more tomorrow, but not until after 4pm.
Customer: Well, what am I going to do then?
Me: You could try real pumpkin. Or butternut squash.
I said that with all the intent and purpose of being helpful, but the scowl I received in return was absolutely priceless. I may as well have suggested she grow the pumpkin herself. Obviously I just don't understand.
Maybe that's because I have never had a Thanksgiving dinner. I haven't grown up with the smell of Stove Top cornbread, I only tasted Candy Corn for the first time a few weeks ago, and to me, pumpkins are for carving into scary faces for Halloween, not for scooping out of a tin and making into pie.
I can only imagine that what I had said was something akin to this scenario: a situation where I had moved to Takayama in Japan, had been there for six months and was getting a little bit homesick. Christmas was coming soon, but isn't celebrated in Japan. Perhaps I knew there was one shop in the town that sold mincemeat and Jus'Roll pastry to make mince pies so that I could have that little taste of home, a small gesture of an old family tradition while thousands of miles away from the place I had spent my childhood Christmasses. I turned up to the little shop to find out that they had sold out of mincemeat that morning. My hopes of a single Christmas tradition would be ruined, until the cashier in the shop suggested...
"Why don't you just use grapes instead?"
Maybe that's how she felt. I'm not sure, but she certainly wasn't impressed.
One girl, after complaining that we had sold out, asked if my colleague had ever tried pumpkin pie. She hadn't. The girl had the audacity to add, "It's disgusting. But you're getting some more in tomorrow, right?"
Well, in that case, maybe I should try to compare it to looking for Brussels Sprouts. They really are disgusting, but essential for a family Christmas dinner. And maybe the Japanese cashier had suggested seaweed as a substitute...yeah. I don't know, I can only imagine.
A while later, the little bedraggled figure from the morning arrived back in the shop. She scanned the shelves and then saw me. Her face was filled with hope and her hair was filled with rainwater.
I reached through to the back and emerged with a solitary tin with a small paper note attached: for the girl with the cute purse.
I only did it because she hadn't asked for it to be kept aside and she wasn't pushy. Also, she had turned up first thing and caught me out with the door locked. I was definitely her favourite person today, but nobody else's.
So Happy Thanksgiving guys, although I feel a bit like a bemused bystander. You can be sure there won't be much thanks-given to me as I do the whole pumpkin shortage routine again tomorrow.
My deli sells a selection of American imported products for our American population. This includes, for the months of October and November, Libby's Pumpkin in a tin. It's very difficult to get in the UK under normal circumstances, and it's almost impossible to get outside of these months. It's also reasonably expensive.
We sold out two days before Thanksgiving. Cue lots of last-minute Thanksgivers coming to our shop to find an empty space that had once been a pumpkin pyramid. Queries were met only with a shrug and a mention of a possible small consignment today.
It was ruthlessly windy and rainy today, typical for Scottish November. I was opening up the deli when I heard a knocking on the door and realised I had forgotten to unlock it on time. I headed to the front, panicking and praying that it wasn't the shop owner or I'd be in trouble.
A poor, pitiful, bedraggled figure was standing outside being battered by the wind. I remembered her from the previous day. She had bought some Aunt Jemima's products and had been disappointed to have missed the Libby's. I had told her about the pending mini-consignment of Libby's and I had also paid compliments to her cute purse.
"Is it here yet?" She asked.
"No," I replied, "I'm not sure when it will come in."
"Oh. No. Well, maybe I should just go to my class then."
In the next two hours I had a host of people ask me about the tinned stuff. When it did arrive, just twenty cans of the stuff, we kept it behind the counter and doled it out frantically like something illicit on the black market. A pimpkin. 'Ere mate, got any of the good stuff, yeah?
Within about 45 minutes it was gone. And I was back to having to console tardy Thanksgiving rookies.
At first I was quite sympathetic, but when it got to the 40th customer or so, my sympathy was becoming as depleted as our supplies of the tinned stuff. What should one expect in a small town in a country that doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving? We sell tinned haggis too, why not buy that and celebrate St.Andrews day instead?
As the afternoon wore on, customers became more desperate and pushy;
Customer: Do you have any tinned pumpkin left?
Me: No, we've sold out. Sorry.
Customer: Shit. But I heard you were getting more in today!
Me: We did at lunchtime, but it sold out.
Customer: (disbelievingly) Already?
Me: It sold out in less than an hour. We might get some more tomorrow, but not until after 4pm.
Customer: Well, what am I going to do then?
Me: You could try real pumpkin. Or butternut squash.
I said that with all the intent and purpose of being helpful, but the scowl I received in return was absolutely priceless. I may as well have suggested she grow the pumpkin herself. Obviously I just don't understand.
Maybe that's because I have never had a Thanksgiving dinner. I haven't grown up with the smell of Stove Top cornbread, I only tasted Candy Corn for the first time a few weeks ago, and to me, pumpkins are for carving into scary faces for Halloween, not for scooping out of a tin and making into pie.
I can only imagine that what I had said was something akin to this scenario: a situation where I had moved to Takayama in Japan, had been there for six months and was getting a little bit homesick. Christmas was coming soon, but isn't celebrated in Japan. Perhaps I knew there was one shop in the town that sold mincemeat and Jus'Roll pastry to make mince pies so that I could have that little taste of home, a small gesture of an old family tradition while thousands of miles away from the place I had spent my childhood Christmasses. I turned up to the little shop to find out that they had sold out of mincemeat that morning. My hopes of a single Christmas tradition would be ruined, until the cashier in the shop suggested...
"Why don't you just use grapes instead?"
Maybe that's how she felt. I'm not sure, but she certainly wasn't impressed.
One girl, after complaining that we had sold out, asked if my colleague had ever tried pumpkin pie. She hadn't. The girl had the audacity to add, "It's disgusting. But you're getting some more in tomorrow, right?"
Well, in that case, maybe I should try to compare it to looking for Brussels Sprouts. They really are disgusting, but essential for a family Christmas dinner. And maybe the Japanese cashier had suggested seaweed as a substitute...yeah. I don't know, I can only imagine.
A while later, the little bedraggled figure from the morning arrived back in the shop. She scanned the shelves and then saw me. Her face was filled with hope and her hair was filled with rainwater.
I reached through to the back and emerged with a solitary tin with a small paper note attached: for the girl with the cute purse.
I only did it because she hadn't asked for it to be kept aside and she wasn't pushy. Also, she had turned up first thing and caught me out with the door locked. I was definitely her favourite person today, but nobody else's.
So Happy Thanksgiving guys, although I feel a bit like a bemused bystander. You can be sure there won't be much thanks-given to me as I do the whole pumpkin shortage routine again tomorrow.
Monday, 23 November 2009
George
There once was a man called George, who at one point lived in the United States and worked as a barista in a well-known juice bar. I will never forget him.
He doesn't know me and wouldn't recognise me. I saw him maybe three or four times. I think perhaps our interaction time doesn't even total five minutes. But he had this way of handing me my 16oz cup of sugar and fruit concoction and telling me to "have a great day" infused with such sincerity that it warmed my heart right through. What a chap.
From what I know of George, I could deduce that he is a lovely fellow. I could be entirely wrong of course, but in our interactions I simply played the role of polite customer and he simply played the role of excellent barista. I don't have much to judge him on.
It is human nature to judge. I don't mind that. I judge people all the time.
At work, for instance. I have a great job; I work with lovely people, and I serve lovely people. It's almost how disappointing how lovely it all is, because it means I have no crazy customer stories to regale to you.
I've been there long enough now to build up rapport with some of our regulars: The little old ladies who buy their cheese and meats from us; the University lecturers with whom I like to banter about current affairs; the students who come in wearing pyjamas and holding paper coffee cups and talking incessantly about how they have been awake all night writing a presentation and took far too many pro plus and are now so jittery that they can't stop talking and they would really like a sandwich and they are so sorry that they keep talking crap at you but are really very charming and entertaining to listen to.
I'm sure most of my customers look at me, and the other girls I work with, simply as their deli girls. I don't mind that. I enjoy helping people, in any role. We exchange our pleasantries and our mutual disdain about the weather, I hand them their goods and they leave happy. I might not be as sincere or heart-felt as George, but it's a good atmosphere.
It's an affluent town and it's a high-end food emporium. Sometimes, I serve girls, students, whose purses cost more than my entire wardrobe. Of course, I judge them on that; I also judge them as lovely, because they usually are. But I also judge customers when they pay for their lunch with their parent's credit card by throwing the credit card at me or one of my colleagues, or when a daily regular completely fails to register my attempt at familiar camaraderie. I assume they judge me as 'just the deli girl' and I also judge them based on the small, daily snippets I see of their personality. I can only judge them on that and no more, especially when they refuse to engage in conversation on their daily lunch run.
One girl comes in almost every day to get her lunch from us, let's call her Shouty Girl. She shouts her order at us and then rarely speaks, smiles, or acknowledges us, usually talking on her flashy mobile or turning her back from us to talk to her friends. She comes in every day, and every day she is the same. I don't mind too much, but it really bugs some of the girls I work with because they are all at the same university.
One day a colleague, a student, told me she was sitting in the library studying, when she became distracted by an incessantly loud voice emanating from the girl sitting next to her. It turned out to be Shouty Girl chatting on her flashy mobile. My colleague turned to her, eyes set to death ray, and snapped loudly "will you please just SHUT UP?"
Shouty Girl was taken by surprise, snapped her phone shut and replied with disdain, "What's your problem? You're nice to me when you serve me in the deli."
"That's because I'm PAID to be nice to you in the deli," came my colleague's winning retort.
Whoever said manners cost nothing was wrong when it comes to dealing with the likes of Shouty Girl.
Mind you, she hasn't changed.
So we all judge each other, and that's ok. But if we all remembered that we are being judged on the short interactions we have with each other, whether we are buying a paper or a sandwich, going for dinner or on holiday, we'd probably all be a bit more like George.
Or at least the bit of George I saw.
He doesn't know me and wouldn't recognise me. I saw him maybe three or four times. I think perhaps our interaction time doesn't even total five minutes. But he had this way of handing me my 16oz cup of sugar and fruit concoction and telling me to "have a great day" infused with such sincerity that it warmed my heart right through. What a chap.
From what I know of George, I could deduce that he is a lovely fellow. I could be entirely wrong of course, but in our interactions I simply played the role of polite customer and he simply played the role of excellent barista. I don't have much to judge him on.
It is human nature to judge. I don't mind that. I judge people all the time.
At work, for instance. I have a great job; I work with lovely people, and I serve lovely people. It's almost how disappointing how lovely it all is, because it means I have no crazy customer stories to regale to you.
I've been there long enough now to build up rapport with some of our regulars: The little old ladies who buy their cheese and meats from us; the University lecturers with whom I like to banter about current affairs; the students who come in wearing pyjamas and holding paper coffee cups and talking incessantly about how they have been awake all night writing a presentation and took far too many pro plus and are now so jittery that they can't stop talking and they would really like a sandwich and they are so sorry that they keep talking crap at you but are really very charming and entertaining to listen to.
I'm sure most of my customers look at me, and the other girls I work with, simply as their deli girls. I don't mind that. I enjoy helping people, in any role. We exchange our pleasantries and our mutual disdain about the weather, I hand them their goods and they leave happy. I might not be as sincere or heart-felt as George, but it's a good atmosphere.
It's an affluent town and it's a high-end food emporium. Sometimes, I serve girls, students, whose purses cost more than my entire wardrobe. Of course, I judge them on that; I also judge them as lovely, because they usually are. But I also judge customers when they pay for their lunch with their parent's credit card by throwing the credit card at me or one of my colleagues, or when a daily regular completely fails to register my attempt at familiar camaraderie. I assume they judge me as 'just the deli girl' and I also judge them based on the small, daily snippets I see of their personality. I can only judge them on that and no more, especially when they refuse to engage in conversation on their daily lunch run.
One girl comes in almost every day to get her lunch from us, let's call her Shouty Girl. She shouts her order at us and then rarely speaks, smiles, or acknowledges us, usually talking on her flashy mobile or turning her back from us to talk to her friends. She comes in every day, and every day she is the same. I don't mind too much, but it really bugs some of the girls I work with because they are all at the same university.
One day a colleague, a student, told me she was sitting in the library studying, when she became distracted by an incessantly loud voice emanating from the girl sitting next to her. It turned out to be Shouty Girl chatting on her flashy mobile. My colleague turned to her, eyes set to death ray, and snapped loudly "will you please just SHUT UP?"
Shouty Girl was taken by surprise, snapped her phone shut and replied with disdain, "What's your problem? You're nice to me when you serve me in the deli."
"That's because I'm PAID to be nice to you in the deli," came my colleague's winning retort.
Whoever said manners cost nothing was wrong when it comes to dealing with the likes of Shouty Girl.
Mind you, she hasn't changed.
So we all judge each other, and that's ok. But if we all remembered that we are being judged on the short interactions we have with each other, whether we are buying a paper or a sandwich, going for dinner or on holiday, we'd probably all be a bit more like George.
Or at least the bit of George I saw.
Friday, 30 October 2009
I do aim to a be a twice-weekly kind of person, but today's post has been postponed because I've just been called into work to cover a shift and as I don't hate my work, and I don't hate being paid either, I am taking up the offer, and then zipping off to the big city to see some friends.
(I am tempted to leave it as that as a one-long-sentence-post).
(I am tempted to leave it as that as a one-long-sentence-post).
Monday, 26 October 2009
in my dreams
"But I ordered Pineapple on my sandwich!"
"I'm sorry, there might be some delay with the pineapple" I reply halfheartedly, watching pineapple chunks float amongst the swimming pool water, out of the door and into the streets. It's difficult to maintain one's cool when chlorinated liquid is lapping around your waist and customers are screaming at you and stock is floating out of the shop on a tidal wave. Somehow I manage.
I hate work dreams. I hate them because I am good at making sandwiches, great at them. It's not very stressful. So I feel like my subconscious is playing undeserved tricks on me when I have to suffer gastronomic nightmares, especially when it had been years since I last hung up my apron and headed towards the bright lights of the city and the intellectual challenges of university study.
I did actually find myself using my sandwich skills at Uni. During late nights of editing the student magazine I'd play hostess and sculpture energy-boosting sandwiches for my fellow editors using delicious ingredients procured from one of the nearby yuppie delicatessens: Rose Humous, Organic Cucumber and Parma Ham, Baba Ganoush, Feta and Chilli Olives. I honestly thought my sandwich-making career was over, this was just extra-curricular. How wrong I was.
I have re-entered the field with trepidation; but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. It's nice to have a change of track, a break from the paper-based stresses of desk-work and studying simultaneously as I did for most of the last two years. But it feels somewhat anti-climatic. It's hard to be pleased about moving home and going back into fast food catering, even if the ingredients are organic, locally sourced and by all accounts gourmet.
I don't want to sound like a snob, because I'm really not, but although I'm now working in a completely different kind of establishment, a fine-dining equivalent of the sandwich world, it's not exactly what I had in mind after six years of further education.
An old friend of mine recently popped into the charity bookshop to say hi and I told her about the new job. "I'm moving up in the world, I really am", I joked.
"But you are! Their sandwiches are so nice."
She was being honest, but I still felt slightly insignificant. My friend knew exactly what she wanted to do when we were still at high school, and now she's achieved her goal, loves it, and is about to buy a house.
And I'm back to living with my parents and still making sandwiches. The reality stung me hard.
But this is how reality works.
How could I be jealous of my friend having achieved her goal when I had no clear goal to achieve? This isn't what I had in mind after six years of education, because to my discredit, I didn't know what I had in mind. It's taken those six years to build up a respectable CV and to decide what I want to do. This last month hasn't just been about lol scumming. It's been about working out my next step. Now I have my degrees, two (and a bit) foreign languages, a great work history... and a goal.
So the dream is to pay off debt, and get enough money together for (another) internship, one that's related to my chosen career. You gotta have a dream, they say. And it's true, sandwiches or no sandwiches.
But when the work dreams return, I'm out of there.
"I'm sorry, there might be some delay with the pineapple" I reply halfheartedly, watching pineapple chunks float amongst the swimming pool water, out of the door and into the streets. It's difficult to maintain one's cool when chlorinated liquid is lapping around your waist and customers are screaming at you and stock is floating out of the shop on a tidal wave. Somehow I manage.
I hate work dreams. I hate them because I am good at making sandwiches, great at them. It's not very stressful. So I feel like my subconscious is playing undeserved tricks on me when I have to suffer gastronomic nightmares, especially when it had been years since I last hung up my apron and headed towards the bright lights of the city and the intellectual challenges of university study.
I did actually find myself using my sandwich skills at Uni. During late nights of editing the student magazine I'd play hostess and sculpture energy-boosting sandwiches for my fellow editors using delicious ingredients procured from one of the nearby yuppie delicatessens: Rose Humous, Organic Cucumber and Parma Ham, Baba Ganoush, Feta and Chilli Olives. I honestly thought my sandwich-making career was over, this was just extra-curricular. How wrong I was.
I have re-entered the field with trepidation; but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. It's nice to have a change of track, a break from the paper-based stresses of desk-work and studying simultaneously as I did for most of the last two years. But it feels somewhat anti-climatic. It's hard to be pleased about moving home and going back into fast food catering, even if the ingredients are organic, locally sourced and by all accounts gourmet.
I don't want to sound like a snob, because I'm really not, but although I'm now working in a completely different kind of establishment, a fine-dining equivalent of the sandwich world, it's not exactly what I had in mind after six years of further education.
An old friend of mine recently popped into the charity bookshop to say hi and I told her about the new job. "I'm moving up in the world, I really am", I joked.
"But you are! Their sandwiches are so nice."
She was being honest, but I still felt slightly insignificant. My friend knew exactly what she wanted to do when we were still at high school, and now she's achieved her goal, loves it, and is about to buy a house.
And I'm back to living with my parents and still making sandwiches. The reality stung me hard.
But this is how reality works.
How could I be jealous of my friend having achieved her goal when I had no clear goal to achieve? This isn't what I had in mind after six years of education, because to my discredit, I didn't know what I had in mind. It's taken those six years to build up a respectable CV and to decide what I want to do. This last month hasn't just been about lol scumming. It's been about working out my next step. Now I have my degrees, two (and a bit) foreign languages, a great work history... and a goal.
So the dream is to pay off debt, and get enough money together for (another) internship, one that's related to my chosen career. You gotta have a dream, they say. And it's true, sandwiches or no sandwiches.
But when the work dreams return, I'm out of there.
Friday, 16 October 2009
mixed nuts
I'm now in paid employment.
It's not very glamourous, but should be good banter and will help me along with achieving my multi-step plan:
1.Pay back my overdraft.
2.Earn some money.
3.Learn to drive.
4.Get some work experience in my chosen field.
5.Get on track with a related job. Bingo.
My student debt is not that bad. My student loan is somewhere in the ether gathering dust and interest, and my overdraft is manageable. Due to a mixture of hard graft and excellent budgeting, I'm actually in less debt from having completed my Postgrad degree than I was when I left studentville after my Undergrad. I count that as a huge success. It would have been even smaller, or non-existent, if I didn't get wanderlust for foreign climes, but hey, have overdraft, will travel.
I made the decision that I didn't want to commence the next part of my life while still in debt. I should add that by 'debt' I mean debt to the bank. My student loan is to remaining drifting in the governmental ether for some time yet, I fear. But with my parents being so generous with the whole bed and board situation, I'm glad I'll be able to get back to black in no time...theoretically.
Of course, this does not mean I am signing off the lol. This is but just the beginning. There's a whole lot of comedy to be found in career-hunting, paid employment, learning to drive, and of course, I'm sure our friendly political representatives will keep us endlessly entertained. Have a great weekend.
It's not very glamourous, but should be good banter and will help me along with achieving my multi-step plan:
1.Pay back my overdraft.
2.Earn some money.
3.Learn to drive.
4.Get some work experience in my chosen field.
5.Get on track with a related job. Bingo.
My student debt is not that bad. My student loan is somewhere in the ether gathering dust and interest, and my overdraft is manageable. Due to a mixture of hard graft and excellent budgeting, I'm actually in less debt from having completed my Postgrad degree than I was when I left studentville after my Undergrad. I count that as a huge success. It would have been even smaller, or non-existent, if I didn't get wanderlust for foreign climes, but hey, have overdraft, will travel.
I made the decision that I didn't want to commence the next part of my life while still in debt. I should add that by 'debt' I mean debt to the bank. My student loan is to remaining drifting in the governmental ether for some time yet, I fear. But with my parents being so generous with the whole bed and board situation, I'm glad I'll be able to get back to black in no time...theoretically.
Of course, this does not mean I am signing off the lol. This is but just the beginning. There's a whole lot of comedy to be found in career-hunting, paid employment, learning to drive, and of course, I'm sure our friendly political representatives will keep us endlessly entertained. Have a great weekend.
Tuesday, 13 October 2009
Captain's Lock
My mum told me this story. It happened to her last week.
Her manager's secretary was on her lunch break, and the manager came running through into my mum's office in a nervous panic.
"I've done something on the computer and I don't know what happened and I can't fix it!"
My mum is no IT guru. She works with young people mostly, giving talks in schools and advising kids on a one-to-one basis. But she offered to help anyway.
"What were you trying to do? What has happened?" She asked.
"I don't know! It's gone all wrong! I was trying to write an email and then it broke."
My mum looked at the email that he had been writing and realised that he had accidentally pressed the CAPS LOCK key. She fixed it, and died a little inside.
I don't know if that's heartening or disheartening to me. I can't decide. It reminds me of my time as a temp when I had to save a phone number into my manager's mobile phone because he couldn't do it. I had to do it several times after that because he refused to learn how to do it himself.
I am not lying when I tell prospective employers how good I am with computers and suchlike. I am the Tempest Typist for a start, and that's just one of my many skills. That works out just fine for me, and I understand that not everybody is as electronically endowed as I, but I cannot abide stubborn stupidity. Now I know for sure that it is not just endemic to the field of temp-work.
As frustrating as this is for overqualified office drones around the world, there is an upside. If someone is too reluctant to learn new skills, that can only make me look better. Stories like these give me CV bragging rights...right?
Her manager's secretary was on her lunch break, and the manager came running through into my mum's office in a nervous panic.
"I've done something on the computer and I don't know what happened and I can't fix it!"
My mum is no IT guru. She works with young people mostly, giving talks in schools and advising kids on a one-to-one basis. But she offered to help anyway.
"What were you trying to do? What has happened?" She asked.
"I don't know! It's gone all wrong! I was trying to write an email and then it broke."
My mum looked at the email that he had been writing and realised that he had accidentally pressed the CAPS LOCK key. She fixed it, and died a little inside.
I don't know if that's heartening or disheartening to me. I can't decide. It reminds me of my time as a temp when I had to save a phone number into my manager's mobile phone because he couldn't do it. I had to do it several times after that because he refused to learn how to do it himself.
I am not lying when I tell prospective employers how good I am with computers and suchlike. I am the Tempest Typist for a start, and that's just one of my many skills. That works out just fine for me, and I understand that not everybody is as electronically endowed as I, but I cannot abide stubborn stupidity. Now I know for sure that it is not just endemic to the field of temp-work.
As frustrating as this is for overqualified office drones around the world, there is an upside. If someone is too reluctant to learn new skills, that can only make me look better. Stories like these give me CV bragging rights...right?
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