Episode 2: Life after University, or, ‘What Katie did next’
In the immediate post-graduation black hole of unemployment, mine and my housemates’ recent reckless lurches towards one job and then another have understandably become the source of much amusement amongst our own group –at one point I was seriously and excitedly picturing myself a shop assistant in a bridal boutique selling gowns and waistcoats to nervous couples – but subtlety isn’t often a skill of mine when it comes to clothes. I love fashion and I love experimenting with my own wardrobe, which I am utterly aware results in the occasional visual disaster. In my eyes frank honesty is cruelty for the greater good: either you look lovely in the dress or you have to be told it makes your ass look gargantuan and he will run screaming from the altar.
Another eagerly anticipated job opportunity was that of working as a library assistant at the university library – ironically were I to get the job the combined hours spent there would far outweigh the time I had actually conceded to doing any work there in my entire time at university. But there were perks. It was walkable from home, therefore saving on travel expenses; I knew the job having worked in admin previously; I didn’t mind being around the students again, in fact it would be almost clinging on to my nostalgic recollections of university life; and number four, and in my eyes the best perk - members of staff at the University of Liverpool could get reduced membership at the sports center on campus, which is a personal destination of high priority. It is just laughable that I homed in on that aspect before the actual job itself, so random were my reasons for applying – could I REALLY see myself spending day in day out organizing dusty volumes in a building in dire need of a jukebox and some air conditioning?
I also briefly considered and subsequently discarded the idea of applying to become an Immigration Officer, as a friend had recommended working in the public sector by way of earning a decent wage at reasonable hours – but one too many verbal faux pas have made me reconsider, despite not actually being racist (one of these now infamous faux pas includes me telling a friend who has black skin that he was looking pasty, by way of egging him on to call in sick for work the next day in order to get him to stay out in a bar rather than head home. There was silence. And then laughter. And then I blushed.).
So that one was off the agenda, again swiftly forgotten, along with the library an the bridal shop – all of these flirtations seem to be brief, intense and fleeting and then I zoom in on a completely different advertised opportunity. I feel slightly parasitic, carefully eating up any information to see how it can be exploited for my own aims but I suppose this is how one gets ahead in a 'dog-eat-dog' world. I refer here, jokingly of course, to a conversation with my cousin about work experience and I was urging her to get on and sort hers out before everyone else did, to get the best placement possible. Then I seized my own advice and actually applied to Liverpool Council asking for work experience, essentially asking if I could steal a place that was technically designated for 15-16 year olds! I have no shame; but the Council have forwarded my details so, having checked out what the work experience vacancies were relating to my field of interest, I would not hesitate to steal a child’s place if they were to make me such an offer…I won’t hold my breath on hearing back from them though – I’m sure they will already have serious doubts about my moral integrity for attempting to hijack the kiddies’ programme, so my search continues…
However, added to the difficulty in searching for work some people can be so frustrating when it comes to following up applications and seeing the process through. Promising to call someone or be somewhere is an initial bond of respect and trust that I hold strongly in principle as an integral factor in the recruitment process. Take today for example: I started with what I deemed to be an admirable schedule: I did the token internet job search, taking down reference numbers for anything interesting or even applying on the spot (to make it feel like I was actually doing something). Then the day continued with a short shift at the bar/restaurant where I do irregular and unpredictable shifts to bring in tuppence for buying food of a week, but what I was really excited about on this was the prospect of a new job as a journalist.
It all started yesterday. It was a glorious day and I had been wandering around town dropping off various CV’s, some aimed at bars, others aimed at marketing in hope of scoring some work experience. All we had to do afterwards was go for a luxurious swim, exploiting the last few months of gym membership whilst we had the time and freedom on our hands. But then myself and my companion alighted on the docks – with a purpose you see – as backup for my best friend who was preparing to go in and quit one of her jobs, having decided that no amount of tip bonuses were enough to compensate for the demeaning way in which she had been treated since starting there. My job was to stop her chickening out; therefore, I did in fact have a job.
But whilst she took care of that little problem, I unexpectedly received a cold call from someone ringing in response to a job I had apparently applied for in relation to a magazine. Which I had completely forgotten about in my blind haze of applications. Oh crap. I um-hmmed my way through the obligatories whilst simultaneously trying to recall where exactly I had seen the job and how had I forgotten about it? The guy continued to fire questions as I answered with those vague, yet deceptively informed-sounding answers that deflect any real perception of one being a blatant bluffer. Anyway, despite me informing him that I was working a 4 hour shift the next day and could not meet him, he insisted he would drop by the bar/restaurant to see me and make the initial greetings in order to size me up I assume, so that he could put me in touch with a colleague. Okaaaay, I thought….that’s fine, and we left it at that.
Next day – I turn up to my 12-4 shift where I work in a bar/restaurant, and get stuck in the kitchen doing dishes and serving food; no one comes to ask for me whatsoever and I am utterly baffled. So I tried to ring him after work: answer phone. Twice. I had to cut my losses on that occasion because the chefs has sent me away with a family sized Tupperware of gourmet Mediterranean beef stew, which I proceeded to tuck into like a savage on a park bench just outside the restaurant whilst, deciding what to do. Unfortunately this guy tried to ring me back a few minutes later, when I was knuckle deep in food and with a bulging mouth – I couldn’t physically get to my phone and so I decided to let him go to my answer phone, to see if there was an explanation for the earlier unprofessional no-show.
The message turned out to be a blasé half apology-half evasion of what had happened and I tried AGAIN to get in touch but to no avail, so somewhat dejected and overstuffed with (albeit delicious) food I decided to give up on this cowboy. Always one to find a positive, I realized it had taught me a lesson that just as it is my prerogative to impress a potential employer, they equally have to impress me, which in this case had been spectacularly unsuccessful – I was simply annoyed.
The bar/restaurant job I refer to has in fact turned out to be something of a minor saviour in my wan search for a wage. It came about in the most unlikely and unexpectant of circumstances; I recall it was a Tuesday morning following the Monday night before when we had gone out as a group for my housemate’s 22nd birthday and, feeling the effects of said celebrations, I had decided to try and walk off the hangover the next day because sleeping it off rarely makes me feel better. Anyway I decided proactivity, as ever, would be the key here and having nothing to lose except (retrospectively) a few vital hours of recovery sleep, I decided to head into the town center and do it the old fashioned way with a door to door CV drop. I remember I went around about ten different pubs and shops with the varying adapted versions of my CV to suit each one. Then, just as I was about to head homeward, I spotted one final destination I thought might be worth asking for work, purely because I had been into the venue of a night out on prior occasions, and had found it to be pleasant.
Looking like what I’m certain can only be described as the living dead, I trudged in, made my way to the bar and smiled at the woman behind the bar, asking her if there were any jobs going. Bingo! She went into the kitchens in the back and brought out the manager who promptly signed me up for a trial shift that week. I have been working there on several shifts a week ever since, and have progressed to holding my own on the bar AND a spot on the shift rota, which are small but significant progressions from total and utter unemployment. I silently applaud my initiative every time I head to work a shift in there because I cannot forget how desperate I was for any job at that moment in time – and the bonus is I am very well looked after and enjoying the camaraderie of working amongst some of the genuinely nicest people I have ever met in my life.
Perhaps the best bit about this bar job is that, whilst it is, admittedly, minions work, I have it there, it gives me the freedom and relative flexibility to continue pursuing my main objective, marketing companies for work experience, writing, generally whatever I am beginning to focus my sight on, which is in fact becoming clearer by the day as I involve myself in different activities and ascertain from them what it is that I actually enjoy. Working in the bar/restaurant in my case is also a particularly canny move as they are affiliated with the theatre in the main building, meaning that many of the regulars are figures from the arts and media world, so for a lateral thinker, there could be multiple ladders of opportunity in there, and knowing the right people may give me a leg up onto the first rung somewhere, who knows.
Right now I am just enjoying taking it day by day – my message is that once you stop feeling so much pressure about getting a job, once there is an income coming from somewhere, you can take a step back and assess where you are, figuratively speaking, and what the options are that are available to you. As previously mentioned, there is no real red flag system as to whether you are following the right path to meet your ultimate objective – I have certainly abandoned that clinical approach and am reaping the benefits of enjoying myself so much more even if it rules out the possibility of becoming a millionaire for a long time to come. I refuse to be dissuaded by incompetent fools like the one who cold called me and then left me feeling cold – just because that particular incident fell through doesn’t in any way mean that journalism has been scratched from the menu – if anything it has made me more determined to pursue the course on my own back and, being a lass who loves a challenge, see what I can now achieve that will outdo anything I could have aspired to whilst working with/for him. Don’t rely on anyone else – follow your own motivations and your own ambitions and the end result will be so much more rewarding.
