You’re
not how much work experience you have
You’re
not the career you want
You’re
not the contents of your CV
You’re
not your fucking qualifications
You’re
the all singing, all dancing crap of the world
This
is the adapted mantra from Fight Club that I live by while looking for
employment. If I didn’t soak up this message every single day, then I would be
having a horrible time. These job applications are harassing like Jimmy Saville
in a child hospice. They bombard you with questions expecting jargon,
buzzwords, and core competencies as a response. They purposefully make you feel
under qualified for every single role because frankly, you are. But so is
everyone when they start. If you could walk into a job and know how to do it,
some clever fella would’ve designed a robot or software to do it already. Yet
you battle through this terribly designed application forms full of spelling
errors. You try your hardest and write the best answer you can while making
your own spelling errors.
You
apply for jobs that 200 people have already applied for because, well, they’re
the only jobs available. You apply for jobs you don’t have the right experience
for because, well, they’re the only jobs available. You fill this cyberspace
void with examples of how great a team leader you are, and that time you saved
a cat from a burning building. And a little bit of you dies when you press
submit. Not that you’ve lied, or exaggerated, or that you don’t want the job.
Just that you are forced to pigeonhole the sum of your life into a STAR
formatted highlight reel.
You
are hoping that someone will read your answers and understand you, see your
potential beyond a few neat examples. But first you have to get the past the
all knowing, all wise, computer checker that scans your form and dismisses
candidates for not having certain buzzwords and including words they don’t want
to hear. John Cuntsbery has been unemployed for seven years.
If
you survive the T-1000 CV checker, you know the next stage is against a guy who has been reading CVs
all day. Or you’re first in line to be read and they dismiss you because he/she
hasn’t had their morning coffee yet. This application checker person is looking
for something, a certain experience, a certain character trait, or maybe just a
decent understanding of English grammar. They are looking for the X Factor
basically. An unquantifiable quality that has is based on how the person is
feeling at the moment. You’re up against Simon Cowell – why else would
unemployment be so high!?
Maybe
you’re one of the lucky ones that receives a call back. You answer the phone
like the obedient dog you are pouring enthusiasm down the line like some
desperate crack-whore looking for a free hit. They ask you more questions, you
answer with more buzzwords but at this point, you start to put some of your
actual personality into it. They might even like you and ask you for a face to
face interview. To see if you have any Omar-like face scars or whether you will
fill their ethnic minority quota.
You
put on your best suit, an ironed shirt, tie, and you excitedly turn up to the
interview clean-shaven like a reared sheep. You tell the same stories,
exaggerate a little bit more - now it isn’t written down its 100% okay to
lie... You convince them that you aren’t a complete twatmeister and in fact
better than any of the other twatmeisters in the waiting room. They listen,
smile, and you leave with a sense of hope.
Then
you get an email that you didn’t get the job. Or you hear nothing at all. You managed
to get past the harassing Jimmy Saville application form, the T-1000 CV
checker, John Cuntsbery, and Simon Cowell but the final hurdle was too much.
Fear not! You may have sold your rapidly shrinking soul but there are hundreds
of other jobs out there and only a few thousands of people clambering after
them.
Your
friends, family, and government are on your back quicker than you can say
"poverty". Your un-salary creating life continues and people point
fingers and blame a lack of ambition and laziness. I'm sorry I was honest and
didn't bullshit as much as the successful candidate. I'm sorry I didn't bend
over, arsecheeks spread, and just take a big fat one in my integrity and
character so I could secure a job. I’m sorry I wasn’t cool with doing 20 hours
of unpaid overtime a week. Yeah I didn't play the game but you know what, this
game is rigged. It's rigged for the smooth talkers, the dishonest, and the
great networkers.
My
great problem is my honesty, I like to put a bit of my non-work suitable
qualities into an application form. Maybe they aren't well suited for the
working world but I like to be open with people giving me bundles of
strings-attached cash. People will say I'm a fool to not play the game, but as
soon as I start BSing, I lose a part of who I am. A part I happen to like. I
like that I make mistakes, such as incorrectly pronouncing misled as
"myzooled". I like that I make inappropriate jokes when being
introduced to someone. I like my belief in my ideas and ideals.
You’re
not your job
You’re
not how much work experience you have
You’re
not the career you want
You’re
not the contents of your CV
You’re
not your fucking qualifications
You’re
the all singing, all dancing crap of the world
Without
this mantra, you are a sad dog, a meloncollie (Ha, dog pun!). But with it, you
know that you are more than the job you have, more than the money in your bank,
more than the career you could have.
You
are not a cliché written on the back of a skill set.
You
are a human being with imperfections, a dirty humour, craziness, and a bit of a
foot fetish. You are more than those 500 words of spiel and bullshit. They haven’t
rejected you. A tired interviewer has rejected a preconception of you. With this in mind,
unemployed life is a little less shit, and a lot more realistic. Nobody is
perfect. And remember one thing: For every great job, there is someone tired of
doing it.
This
first world problem has been solved courtesy of Sobweb (and Tyler Durden, peace
be upon him.)
Happy
hunting!
