The Quest for Employment

As I’m sure many of you have experienced, searching for jobs is a daunting and precarious task. In the past few weeks that I have been looking, I have applied for over twenty jobs, and possibly heard back from… three.

The fact that plenty of potential employers do not even have the courtesy to inform you they don’t want you (or write something diplomatic like “we are sorry, but we have already filled the position”. It’s not that challenging, is it?) is what really grinds my gears.

I heard back from a bar job (not one I was ecstatic about possibly having, but a job is a job) who called to say “are you still interested in working for us?”.

Obviously, I replied with yes (though, I like to think I phrased it to sound a little bit more excited). They then, equally positively, said “great! We’ll call you tomorrow to sort out when you can come in for a trial.”

And guess what? I never heard from them again. I feel as though this sums up most people’s efforts to find a job.

Now, I’m going to be honest, I’m hardly over-qualified. I have limited experience, as travelling is not the best time to launch a career. For someone my age (nineteen), having previous experience in certain areas is extremely unlikely. Actually having your CV (or resumé) chosen to be looked at is equally unlikely. So when potential employers advertise employment saying “experience required” it makes our lives exceedingly difficult.

How I feel most employers really are...

How I feel most employers really are…

I feel as though this is a bit too much of a rant, but truth be told it is the only interesting thing happening in my life right now.

Coming back from travelling and returning home, actively searching for a job (and trying desperately to make sure it is not a job I will detest) is a serious blow to the feeling of “freedom” that I acquired on my Gap Yah (I swear, it sounds wrong to simply say gap year. Though, technically, it wasn’t a gap year… it’s more Gap Yahs than anything).

On the positive side, I do have a job trial tomorrow working as Front of House at a Greek restaurant, so we’ll see how that goes. Luckily, that place did not insist on previous Front of House experience.

Working in a pub sounds like the way forwards to me (I’m not sure if “pub” is a universal term or not… to you Americans, a pub is more or less a bar, but tends to have a very relaxed vibe (obviously where we all speak in our traditional English accents and guffaw at silly things that Americans would find tedious). They also tend to have fireplaces and a low buzz of conversation opposed to LOUD MUSIC). My hope is that when everyone leaves for university, all the jobs shall open up and they’ll have no option but to employ me. Yes, this would be good.

As an end-note, I seem to have delved back into a teenage angst lifestyle and have discovered the delight of Halestorm. Who rock. Thought this would be worth mentioning for no reason. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGchlqCjj8A

Also, this Tumblr post cheered me up after so many… I was going to call them rejections, but they weren’t even that. They were ignores. Goddamn word-that-doesn’t-exist.

I'm going to try include a Tumblr picture in every post. Because it makes me happy.

I’m going to try include a Tumblr picture in every post. Because it makes me happy.

A Fresh Start!

*Pictured above: a happy Richard (that’s me, just to clarify – I refer to myself in third person after my Gap Yah) at Hobbiton, New Zealand.

Well.

How do you start a blog once again that you haven’t put any effort or input into for the past year? With difficulty.

I need a clean slate. Something fresh to start on. Yet for that, my life actually has to have a heading, something to aim for.

I just spent ten amazing months of my life travelling and working, meeting fantastic people, and gazing upon spectacular sights. Now I’m back home, not travelling, not meeting people, and not seeing sights. It’s certainly a change.

People (you know, the new people you meet travelling) say that travelling is addictive, and when you’re not actually living a life like they are, you can’t really accept these words as a possibility. But now that I’m back, I’ve realised that they are entirely right.

Don’t get me wrong. Being home is wonderful. Seeing family and friends after almost an entire year of being apart is marvellous. Plus, having my own room (and own bed), alongside having a kitchen I don’t need to share with thirty other people is equally wonderful.

Yet, there is definitely something missing.

Not that I like being a cheesy, predictable guy but I’ve changed travelling. Hopefully not in a bad way (for one thing, I haven’t come back from my travels saying “Gap Yah”… except then, and earlier (if you haven’t seen the video, please go watch it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eKFjWR7X5dU), and secondly I don’t manage to connect everything I say with what I did whilst away)), but I have most definitely changed.

For one thing, I’ve been inspired to be more independent. Which is why living at home with family is a strange experience. Though, I haven’t seen them much as I was home for three days then my mum, step-dad and sister left for France. I’m well loved, you see.

I think the reason for a post entitled “A Fresh Start” is partially due to the fact I just finished the novel “How to Build a Girl” by Caitlin Moran. Not that I really want my life to be drawn in comparison to hers (those who have read it will understand), but it does get you thinking. It’s a semi-autobiography, and the narrator re-creates her image several times during the novel, ranging from a goth, to a prolific writer, to a raging sex-demon… You can see my point. Still a good book, though.

Not that I really have any desire to re-sculpt myself (after all, I have spent nineteen years of my life getting to this point!) but my life does lack motivation at the moment, something I intend to change. There are two ways I want to do this: find a job, and finish my own novel.

A job should be simple. Apply and wait. Go to trials, amaze with my amazing talents, get hired, worked. Tada! Truth be told, the job is more to stave off boredom than an actual necessity to have one at this point (after all, as I have discovered after my Gap Yah (and again), not paying for food or accommodation saved you a FUCK-LOAD of money).

In terms of finishing my novel, things are going… slowly. It’s my own idea, and it is taking shape, just it’s taking a while. I’d say I’m about a third way through of the first draft. The issue is that my motivation is at an all-time low, and even the smallest writers’ block seems to influence my hand to move the mouse/cursor to hover over the X in the top-right hand corner of the screen and left-click. Usually I manage a sentence then decide that’s enough. This needs sorting.

Moving away from life plans, I have just looked back over my old posts on here, and have realised how much (and how little) I’ve changed since writing them. For one thing, I like to think my writing is slightly more engaging now. Secondly, most of my views remain the same (for instance: I am still obsessed with Lord of the Rings and Pugs; I still strongly detest smoking; and Fantasy is still my escapism). I think this is a good thing.

I think I’ll wrap up there and take a break from writing (perhaps I’ll go write some of my novel?! No, don’t be silly). My intention is to get this up and running regularly again. We’ll see how that goes.

Home Alone… with a Painter.

Been quite a while since my last post that actually involves thinking.

So, as the title suggests, I am currently home alone with a painter. My loving parents have abandoned me for all of August, which incidentally is my last month in the country. They get back on the 25th, the day before I depart for London and then my flight to New Zealand. It is at these moments that I feel well and truly loved.

All joking aside (yes, I was joking) I’m not really saddened by the lack of presence from my parents. Having a free house is something every teenager craves… Or at least, I think so?

No, scratch that: every male teenager craves being home alone. Most females I have spoken to seem to be under the impression that I must be hating it.

What they do not is that I am not strictly home alone. Every day, without fail (except the weekends, thankfully) I have a mysterious man painting the landing of my house. This is an interesting arrangement, as I feel restricted by his presence.

That’s not to say that I haven’t organised things. I just haven’t organised many things during the day. Fairly certain he must think I’m a recluse. I rarely appear from my room during the day – for fear of annoying him or covering myself in paint by accident. The only times he sees people in the morning, which must look even more dodgy, with random people mysteriously appearing from my bedroom with pyjamas on (or just boxers in the case of one of my friends… that was an interesting greeting).

Apart from that, like I said earlier, being home alone is quite fun. Except for the independency for when things go wrong. Being only 18, my mum has always been there to solve things that are beyond my capability of solving. So when the dishwasher broke, I was a little unsettled by what the outcome would be. Or when there was a power-cut. That was equally worrying, especially when I couldn’t find anything wrong with the fuses (don’t worry, it turns out most of the village suffered from the same power-cut).

But the worst independent thing that I’ve had to do was the cleaning. The amount of cleaning I have done has been ridiculous. Somehow, my painter has developed a knack of, whilst painting, coating the floor in a thick layer of dust. I still don’t quite understand how this possible. Either way, dust, on a wooden floor, is an utter bitch to remove. So this is where the aid of a mother, who has always kept the house clean (credit also has to go to our cleaner, who, you know, cleans) would’ve been appreciated a considerable amount.

Welcome to the adult world, Richard. Full of cleaning and other horrible tasks that all teenagers take for granted. Damn you, growing age.