30 Jul Desperate jobhunters
Looking for a job must be one of the most soul destroying experiences known to man.
For the last two weeks, I’ve been spending many an hour sat on the little red sofa in my room scouring the internet for non-existent job adverts, occasionally walking over to look out of the window at the sunshine and the mountains to remind myself why I’m even bothering. In fairness, at least that view does make it all worthwhile.
It is only now that I am starting to understand that all those lessons about the state of the Italian job market, and the shocking unemployment statistics, may not have been entirely works of fiction. I’m also beginning to realise that I am, in fact, a whole lot less employable than the numerous advocators of the so-called Durham difference would have me believe.
My job seeking task involves two separate plans of action. One is for the benefit of Optimistic Me, and the other for Realistic Me.
Optimistic Me is looking for the dream job, something in events, or advertising, or similar, seeing as I want to do something creative when I’m a grown-up.
So far, I’ve sent hundreds of emails and made a few visits to offices in order to try to speak to someone who can’t just delete my e-mail. The latter technique did on one unfortunate occasion result in a very unexpected and un-prepared-for on the spot interview from an extremely professional-looking middle-aged man who no doubt did not appreciate my turning up in little denim hotpants (in my defense, it’s pretty toasty) or indeed my lack of any relevant knowledge of anything at all as I was, at best, a horrendous mumbling mess.
Realistic Me is hunting for work of literally any kind in order to pay my rent and keep my cupboard stocked with coffee and biscuits.
Consequently, as well as fruitlessly searching for “proper” jobs, I’m going down the part-time, not-for-grown-ups employment route, advertising my English teaching services and scouring café’s for cercasi barista signs. It seems even this is harder than I’d originally bargained for, though. There are so many language schools around, but they won’t employ me because I have no qualifications, and because there are so many language schools, it seems that people don’t want private lessons. Other part-time jobs advertised around the place are looking for skills which I do not have (the prerequisite of a degree in economics comes up regularly, who can know why) and cafés either aren’t looking for anyone at all (one gruff old man muttered “I’m firing people at the moment, not hiring them” at me when I enquired) or want experience, of which I also have none.
The whole situation has resulted in me having to write the most ridiculous, grovelling cover letter, pathetically trying to make up for my lack of most kinds of professional experience with the fact that I speak some languages.
Even I wouldn’t employ me.