Back in 2009, with Commando and I both worried about our jobs things were looking pretty grim. Being overweight seemed like the least of my problems.
Today was mostly about job hunting. Mac went through my CV with me and we made a few changes. Apparently I’ve been assistant manager of this office for the last four months. I sent off a few applications but not for anything I really want. There are no travel jobs whatsoever and that’s really what I want to be doing. The closest thing I found was working in the ticket office at the railway station, I applied, it is travel, kind of, and maybe I’d get free train tickets.
Mac is obsessed with call centre jobs. “You’ve got such a lovely phone manner,” he said. Years ago I worked in a call centre, it was horrible. There is nothing quite as boring as answering the phone all day, speaking to miserable, angry people, answering the same questions again and again. We all had head sets with long curly cables and were plugged into our phones hour after hour. Quite regularly I’d forget to unplug the blasted thing, get up to go to the loo and almost garrotte myself. It’s a dangerous job I tell you.
I think I’d rather be a traffic warden or a toilet cleaner. Not that there are even any jobs doing that. Apart from call centres (probably because theres such high staff turnover as it’s so awful) they’re mostly sales jobs (very high pressure and cut throat, not to mention unscrupulous), they all ask for ‘dynamic, target focused’ people. Hmm, not sure that’s really me. There was one that looked like it might be quite interesting, it’s a marketing job although the advert didn’t have much information about what exactly the company is marketing. Knowing my luck it’s probably diarrhoea remedies or foot odour spray. I applied.
There were no jobs worth applying for today, not one. If I can’t find anything even vaguely suitable when I work for a recruitment agency what hope is there, especially as both Mac and I are devoting more man hours to searching for me than we are for all our other clients put together? Mac kept helpfully suggesting totally unsuitable jobs he’d found.
“What about this one? They’re looking for a life guard at Romsey Rapids. You can swim can’t you?”
“Are you taking the piss?”
He wasn’t. It was actually his idea of a great opportunity for me, the fact that I had no way of getting there being one minor stumbling block he hadn’t thought of, along with no previous experience and absolutely no inclination to sit beside a pool filled with screaming children all day. Then he wondered if I’d ever considered retraining as a hairdresser seeing as there seem to be a glut of hairdresser jobs for some reason.
“Seems like hairdressing is the only growth industry around at the moment,” he smirked.
I threw a ball of paper at his head.
Commando has been brooding about his own job ever since the redundancy announcement was made. He hasn’t said much, probably because he doesn’t want me to worry, but he’s been very quiet and a bit snappy. Not long after I got back from my driving lesson he had a call from his manager to tell him a big meeting had been called tonight, just before his shift started. He was hopping around like like a rabbit in a cage full of foxes after that. He had to go in early and he was so worked up he forgot his lunch. Not that I was exactly the epitome of calm myself by then. I couldn’t settle to anything until he rang me later in the evening.
I could tell straight away from his voice that it was good news. He didn’t even say hello just, “They’ve found enough people willing to take voluntary redundancy.” What a relief. At least one of us is going to have a job. For a minute there I had visions of family days out at the job centre. Of course he then started wondering if he should have put in for the voluntary redundancy himself. “What if the whole place closes down in six months time and no one gets anything? I’ve been here more than twenty years, there are guys here that have been here half that time who’ll be getting enough to pay off their mortgages.”
If you could bank self doubt we’d be billionaires.