My Beautiful Career

For reasons which I won't go into here (but you may assume they have something to do with the belated but no-less-scary-for-that effect that this credit crunch thing is having on job security in the public sector) I've been spending rather more time than is good for me lately on the Guardian's Jobsearch Pages.  Predictably enough, the bulk of this time has been frittered away with pointless daydreaming, but just occasionally I have managed to rouse myself into actually reading the detail behind the interchangeably vague job titles (Community Volunteering and Engagement Executive, anyone?  Information Participation Officer?  Social Cohesion Partnership Project Associate?) and tried to imagine myself actually doing one of the jobs advertised.  Nine times out of ten that is as far as it goes; my imaginings leave me so stressed out that I conclude that actually trying to do the job, rather than just think about it, would most likely kill me. 

Just occasionally, however, I come across a post which not even my vast reserves of work-related self-doubt can dissuade me from feeling I might just be able to get away with- and on one such occasion last week I even went so far as to send off an application- for something administrative at the University.  I don't think I'll be sending any more off in a hurry, as

A- it took me two days to fill in the form, in which I had to give detailed explanations of how exactly I fitted every one of their exacting criteria.

B- they were two days spent in vain, as I didn't even get an interview. 

C- The process of writing about my achievements in such detail  has left me completely confused, as I can no longer remember which of the achievements are real, which ones are slightly exaggerated, and which ones are completely made up. 

It is in an attempt to do something about 'C' that I present the following-

My Beautiful Career  (an alternative Curriculum Vitae)

June 1990-November 1990.  Buffet Assistant, Newcastle-upon-Tyne Airport.

What this job was (short version)- General dogsbody.  Table clearing, manning the tills, feeding holidaymakers' plates into a giant industrial dishwasher.

What I say about it in job applications: 'In this role, where shift patterns varied on a weekly basis, I learnt the value of flexibility, teamwork, and most importantly of all, camaraderie'.

What it was really like:  Absolutely fucking awful.  The five-o-clock starts were bad enough, but the real problem was the disdain, bordering on outright hostility, with which the established permanent staff treated people like me- ex-students on temporary contracts.  One particular incident- in which an oversized cast-iron casserole dish whished past my ears, accompanied by the admonition 'Those fucking pots  divven't gan in the bastard panwash, yer little tosser!' has left me with a deeprooted fear of six-foot four Geordie chefs with moustaches.

January 1991-August 1992.  Teacher of English as a Foriegn Language, northern Spain

Short version:  Teaching Engish at a private academy, to groups ranging in age from 7 to adult.

What I say about it:  'This overseas posting gave me a valuable grounding in the teaching profession- and in particular taught me the value of thorough preparation'

What it was really like:  Absolute bliss, in comparison to getting up at four o'clock in the morning in order to undergo assassination attempts at the hands of alumni of the Newcastle-upon-Tyne Catering College. More than that I can't really tell you, as I was drunk 80% of the time.  I do remember that the 'thorough preparation' consisted of emerging from a lengthy siesta at two oclock in the afternoon and scrabbling around on the floor of our bedsit for a lesson plan hastily scrawled on the back of a cigarette packet while  under the influence of strong licqueur. 

 

September 1993- July 1995.  Completion of Post-Graduate Certificate of Education at Manchester Metropolitan, followed by Supply Teaching of Modern Languages in Oldham.

Short version: Two teaching practices while on the course, two contracts (for one term, then two, at separate schools) during the following academic year

What I say about it:  'On returning to the UK I sought to develop my burgeoning academic career by the pursual of a professional qualification.  This led to a year spent in the  challenging but fulfilling environment of secondary school teaching'.

What it was really like: The least said the better.  I think the lowpoint was the afternoon in Gorton when a near-riot in the 4th year classroom was briefly interrupted by the sight of an onion floating through an open window, bouncing across the floor, and coming to a halt in front of my desk.  Having said that, there were some moments I remain inordinately proud of- such as the time I somehow managed to get through an hour as a last-minute teacher of GCSE Mathematics, with only my faint grasp of the rudimentaries of the seven-times-table standing in the way of utter professional ruin.

 

September 1995- June 1998.  Customer Services Assistant, The Gas Board, Manchester.

Short version: answering telephones, writing letters, dealing with complaints.

What I say about it:  'In this role I dealt with a range of complex enquiries including complaints of a regulatory nature.  Clear written communication was key to success'

What it was really like:  Actually quite enjoyable, and certainly a welcome relief from avoiding airborne root vegetables.  Our team of twentysomething clerks were given a surprising amount of leeway when it came to answering the many, many letters of complaint that used to arrive daily on our desks.  I used to amuse myself by sprinkling the replies with arcane 1950s-esque phraseology such as 'Sir- I thank you for your correspondence, which was received in these offices on the 14th inst.' 

 

June 1998- June 2007.  Customer Services Officer, Company X, Manchester

Short version: answering telephones, putting on orders, doing projecty processy stuff, training freshfaced newcomers.

What I say about it: 'My time with Company X was most fulfilling, but after a decade I felt ready for a fresh challenge'

What it was really like:  Well you read about it on here, didn't you? Actually looking back I can't quite remember what was so bad- but I do remember the desperation that used to engulf me at three o'clock in the afternoon, and regularly spending ten minutes at a time with my head down on the desk, quietly moaning to myself and willing the endless minutes to pass- so I should probably conclude I was right to get out- right?

 

June 2007- present.  Officer With Interchangeably Vague Job Title (pick any one you want from the Guardian Situations Vacant pages), Medium-Sized Public Sector Organisation Y, Manchester's Fashionable Westside.

Short version.... well, I think we will leave it at that, if you don't mind- partly in case anyone in HR is reading (in which case, haven't you got a meeting to go to or something?), but mainly because after two years I'm increasingly uncertain about what the hell it is I'm supposed to be doing.  What I do know is that I'm spending unhealthy amounts of time daydreaming about doing 'proper' jobs, by which I mean ones that people in Frankie's TV cartoon shows do (postman, windowcleaner, cheerful proprietor of market fruit stall in fictional northern town).

None of which vocations, of course, feature heavily in the Guardian Society Job Pages, which suggests that a review of my jobsearch techniques may be in order.  But not right now.  Right now I've got a day off work to look forward to, on account of having booked some leave in hope/anticipation of getting an interview for that job at the university.  Maybe I would have stood a better chance sending them the 'alternative' CV - what do you think?

Comments

[looby]

Ha ha...I so recognise that mixture of lower middle class meandering around from teaching to admin to customer service. I used to put inst. ult. and prox. too! I did it because my boss didn't know what they meant.

I've got about 4 or five versions of my cv now, all of which include some economy with the verite in order to cover up the couple of jobs which have gone majorly wrong.

[Cocktails]

It's funny isn't it that when you were at school, you were encouraged to get a career, a 'proper job' - you know, leave school, go to uni or do an apprenticeship, become an electrician, teacher, architect, chef, whatever and life would be happily sorted forever more. No one mentioned a lifetime of meandering around and accidentally blundering from one job to another.

As for me, it's all been downhill since university. I graduated and got the best job ever in the university library. Basically I drank endless cups of coffee, read the daily papers, cut them up into bits and stuck them into subject files. All employment has been a disappointment since.

[Sue-Ann]

Hmmm - I also recently spent several days writing a brilliant job appl. and didn't even get an interview. I wrote today and asked them why? Answer pending.

[jonathan]

Looby- I've been described as a lot of things but Lower Middle Class isn't one of them... although of course you've got a point if my CV (any version of it) is what we're going by. After all I don't think that Geordie chef was attempting to decapitate me with his casserole dish as a gesture of proletarian solidarity- he thought I was stuck-up little college boy. Of course I prefer to think of myself as working class on account of coming from Fenham and believing, until I was 15, that mayonnaise was just what posh people called salad cream. I don't know, perhaps we need to call in a sociologist to make an independent assessment.

Cocktails- you have reminded me that I have committed the cardinal sin of leaving a year-long gap in my CV. Immediately after the TEFL I spent a year working as a floating library assistant back home in Newcastle- it was a happy, stress-free and largely uneventful posting, which is probably why I sometimes forget all about it. But I do still wonder why I rejected the notion of doing a Librarianship course in favour of sticking with the preconceived plan of launching myself at the mercy of the feral teenagers of South Manchester.

And Sue-Ann- ah, a Sociologist if I am not mistaken- perhaps you would care to pronounce on what class we may be around here (I'm only joking, I wouldn't put you on the spot on your first visit...). But I am very impressed by your refusal to accept an interview rejection.. a follow-up letter, you say? I am toying with the idea of following suit- after all, what is there to lose? Although of course more likely those vast reserves of work-related self-doubt may just scupper any such thoughts...

[looby]

Yes, it's difficult knowig what class you "are" - I feel working and middle in me in equal measure, especially when I'm out with people who fall into one or other of the categories more strongly.

[Jamie]

Brilliant. I am particularly impressed with the sprinkling of 1950s epistolary technology in your replies to gas customers. I think I shall follow suit (not to gas customers, obviously, just in general).

I am, sir, yours &

[jonathan]

Thank you Jamie- and I am so pleased to know that you are still out there (I think I have mentioned more than once that Eclectic Boogaloo was the first of these blog things I ever happened across and Crinklybee started off as a poor imitation).

As a further tribute to austerity-era office practices, by the way, this comment is written in my best copperplate. Actually I have only the vaguest notion of what ones 'best copperplate' might look like, but I recall that it is what the eponymous hero of Billy Liar has to produce in his capacity of undertaker's clerk in 1950s Leeds.

(of course, the author of that work Keith Waterhouse died this week at the grand old age of 80, so maybe this comment is a tribute to him).

[Ben]

Ah, the joys of the potwash - I've experienced that in three different jobs, all of them crap. Coincidentally, my worst ever job was also connected to Newcastle Airport - I was working for one of the catering companies in the catering village. Only washing-up duties, but I'd advise anyone to think very carefully about ever eating an airline meal. Not that I heed my own advice - if I'm a bit peckish and already poured a few of those dwarf bottles of wine down my neck, I'll still happily tuck in...

Re: taking employment inspiration from kids' TV programmes. Does Frankie watch 'Dora The Explorer'? You could give exploring a go. Or going further back in time, how's about litter-picking ('The Wombles') or allotment-tending ('The Flumps')?

[abby]

Eeeeeeeee, I have finally gotten round to reading this one, after waiting until a particularly Mondayish Monday morning has me in the sort of grip of existential panic that no amount of cafe con leches can salvage. I particularly remember the airport job, which somehow you persuaded me to do as well (they tried to promote me to sandwiches but I said it was too hard so that I could stay on table-clearing). I seem to remember that your dirty dish trolley-packing skills were unsurpassed. And I also witnessed your growing pallor while in the Oldham teaching post -- part of our family's strange preoccupation with trying to be teachers when we are clearly bettter suited to being librarians or hiding. Oh, and can you give us more examples of your 19th century gas board correspondence? More arcane phrases please!

[jonathan]

... speaking from the standpoint of a Friday which has provoked quite Monday-like levels of existential panic (see today's post), librarianship and hiding both seem like frighteningly attractive career options right now...