Today was my final trip over to the local Job Centre to sign on, and they didn't disappoint. Anyone who is looking for something to blog about could do worse than visit a Job Centre, sit in the waiting area and listen to some of the conversations. As with Ronald MacDonald and the Nazi timekeeper, I swear the people in there knew that I was writing a blog and today they really put on a show for my final visit.
In the waiting area were two of the chavviest looking blokes you've ever seen, and what follows is a rough version of the conversation they had (apologies to Irvine Welsh):
Chav 1: Man, it's really changed in here since ma day. Thur wiz nane ay this waitin aboot or security guards. Ye jist came in an queued up until some cunt could see ye.
Chav 2: Ah ken, aye. This is fuckin mental. An ah'm no used to places like this, ken? Ah'm a grafter an ah aiways huv been.
Chav 1: Ah, me an aw. How much dae the cunts gie ye nowadays anyway?
Chav 2: Fuckin forty quid a week. It's fuckin brutal.
Chav 1: (visibly shaken) Forty quid a week? Fuckin hell. That's fuck all.
Chav 2: Fuckin right. Ah used to make mair about a hunner quid a day. Forty quid wiz a bad day's choryin.
(For those of you who don't speak fluent Scottish chav, 'to chore something' has nothing to do with tasks and errands. It means to steal something)
I'll skip the part where one of them went into great detail about how is ex-girlfriend hit him in the face with a driver because she had walked in on him and one of his friends 'spit-roasting' another woman. I was quite disappointed when my name was called and I had to leave the waiting area. I'd never thought of thieving as 'graft' before, and I severely doubt they were using the American variation of the word. I suppose I'll miss the Job Centre.
Tuesday 19 February 2008
Thursday 14 February 2008
Apologies and Explanation
So, no posts for nearly a fortnight, but thanks to the precarious state of my love-life I find myself with more than enough time on Valentine's Day to write this. The hunt is over, I got the job in Canterbury and it starts next month. I have relinquished my status as dole monkey: I'm now merely 'between jobs.' I'm looking forward to the new job - the company seems like a good one and the people I've met that I'll be working with all appeared to be human and pleasant.
That leaves the question of what happens to the blog. I suppose the logical thing to do would be just to wind it up, but I've never been a particularly big fan of logic. Instead I thought I might follow the example set by so many media outlets over the last couple of years and just make it up. So, ignore everything that I wrote above and enjoy the continuing tales of Yosser Hughes.
That leaves the question of what happens to the blog. I suppose the logical thing to do would be just to wind it up, but I've never been a particularly big fan of logic. Instead I thought I might follow the example set by so many media outlets over the last couple of years and just make it up. So, ignore everything that I wrote above and enjoy the continuing tales of Yosser Hughes.
Sunday 3 February 2008
Told you so.
As I mentioned in my last post, I was pleasantly surprised at the quality of the train going down to London. I also noted that by praising the service I had undoubtedly jinxed all future travel. I was right. There were no seat reservations due to a printer fault, the wi-fi didn't work and we eventually arrived about half an hour late. I'm on the train again today and the printer fault obviously hasn't been rectified so it's another free-for-all with the seats. When will I learn to keep my big gob shut?
As for the job hunt, I passed the entrance exam and have been offered a place on the NCTJ course so I'm treating that as my insurance policy if nothing else comes up. I'm off on another jaunt, stopping in Canterbury and Oxford. I'll soon be able to get the travelogue/mileage report that was a part of the original Yosser Hughes blog.
As for the job hunt, I passed the entrance exam and have been offered a place on the NCTJ course so I'm treating that as my insurance policy if nothing else comes up. I'm off on another jaunt, stopping in Canterbury and Oxford. I'll soon be able to get the travelogue/mileage report that was a part of the original Yosser Hughes blog.
Wednesday 30 January 2008
Hang on a minute
I may have been too quick to damn the British rail system. The train I'm on left on time, is fairly comfortable (at least at the table seats - the airline seats are a bit cramped), has electrical sockets at each pair of seats and, best of all, has free wi-fi. Hell, even Japanese trains never had that. Had I known this I would have brought the papers with me and applied for some more of the jobs I'd circled. Ah well. At least using the East Coast line four times in the next week seems far less of a trial than it was (although I'm sure this outburst of positivity has damned all my subsequent journeys).
Tuesday 29 January 2008
Big City, Bright Lights
It's almost the end of my birthday and it's been the quietest and soberest one I've had in a long time. Going to London tomorrow for entrance exam/open day and I really didn't want to face the infamous British railway system with a hangover and a headful of fuzzy memories. Despite living in Tokyo for the best part of five years I find myself heading to London with small-town trepidation: will I navigate my way around the transport system successfully; will I find a pub/restaurant that is reasonably priced and serves decent food and drink; if I get a taxi will I get fiddled? These are all questions that I know are ridiculous (especially the one about food and drink - it's all a fucking rip-off) but they remain stubbornly stuck in my head. If this is the effect my shitty little hometown has had on me in six weeks it's no surprise the long-term residents are as narrow-minded and dull as they are. "I'm a city boy, get me out of here."
On the job front, a few more applications and a couple of rejections. Got first dole payment today but stayed out of the pub. Didn't I do well? Not sure if B&B I'm staying in has Wi-Fi or any other internet access, but there'll be an update when I get back from the centre of the Universe, if not before.
On the job front, a few more applications and a couple of rejections. Got first dole payment today but stayed out of the pub. Didn't I do well? Not sure if B&B I'm staying in has Wi-Fi or any other internet access, but there'll be an update when I get back from the centre of the Universe, if not before.
Thursday 24 January 2008
Meeting People is Getting Easier
I may not be working but the good people at my local council must be getting close to budget renewal time as there have four big yellow vans and lorries sitting outside my house all day. Much like the average Scottish Premier League football team there seems to have been an awful lot of effort expended for minimal results. Pneumatic drills, a mini-steamroller and numerous traffic cones all made appearances at various points throughout the day but when they finally packed up about an hour ago there was little evidence that they'd ever been there. I think I saw them relay tar around a drain (about one square metre), and there was a lot of arse-scratching and tea-drinking, but that was about it.
More applications have been fired off and more newspapers and websites have been trawled with little success. However, I did get a telephone call from one of the companies I'd applied for and the upshot is that I'm heading to Canterbury in a week or so to attend a recruitment day/interview. I thought the whole gig was fucked from the very outset when I misheard the name of the company, had to ask for it to be repeated and then had to cast wide and deep in my memory to try and actually remember the job I'd applied for. This is one of the dangers of applying for so many jobs: I always think that it'll create a negative impression, or at least reek of desperation. It mustn't have sounded too bad as I got through the initial chat and was invited down to their office. Should I even dare to hope?
On a very tenuously related note, one of the advantages of being "between jobs" at the moment is The African Cup of Nations. Over the last few years this has started to become my favourite football tournament: it's fast, exciting, skillful and far more entertaining than its European equivalent. It's also on from 4.30 in the afternoon which is just ideal for little doley's like me. At the moment it's just coming up to half-time in the game between Guinea and Morocco and Guinea are winning 1-0 thanks to yet another outrageous goal. Time to crack open the first of the day I reckon.
More applications have been fired off and more newspapers and websites have been trawled with little success. However, I did get a telephone call from one of the companies I'd applied for and the upshot is that I'm heading to Canterbury in a week or so to attend a recruitment day/interview. I thought the whole gig was fucked from the very outset when I misheard the name of the company, had to ask for it to be repeated and then had to cast wide and deep in my memory to try and actually remember the job I'd applied for. This is one of the dangers of applying for so many jobs: I always think that it'll create a negative impression, or at least reek of desperation. It mustn't have sounded too bad as I got through the initial chat and was invited down to their office. Should I even dare to hope?
On a very tenuously related note, one of the advantages of being "between jobs" at the moment is The African Cup of Nations. Over the last few years this has started to become my favourite football tournament: it's fast, exciting, skillful and far more entertaining than its European equivalent. It's also on from 4.30 in the afternoon which is just ideal for little doley's like me. At the moment it's just coming up to half-time in the game between Guinea and Morocco and Guinea are winning 1-0 thanks to yet another outrageous goal. Time to crack open the first of the day I reckon.
Wednesday 23 January 2008
Sign On The Time
Shocking title, I know, but hell, I may end up working at a tabloid one of these days so I ought to get some practice. Signed on yesterday and realised that the woman I had the misfortune to meet on my first visit is the exception rather than the rule. Unfortunately, that doesn't make for particularly good blogging, so here's a story from The Onion website that seems appropriate for this blog (and is clearly an attempt at filling otherwise dead space).
Monday 21 January 2008
Temp vs Doley
The lull over the last few days is, unfortunately, not a result of me finding gainful employment. No, it's more a mixture of laziness, dull repetition and the simple fact that one of the highlights of last week was putting up an Ikea CD tower thing without any damage, any swearing or any monumental mistakes. Hardly relevant to job-hunting but a minor success nonetheless.
Friday morning brought a phone call from a very chirpy temp agency person who had received my CV. A few of my friends and a family member all work for a well-known financial services company nearby, so when I came back to the UK in December I passed on a copy of my CV to a friend who said she'd send it to the right person. The right person finally got back to me last Monday and we had a chat about what kind of job I was looking for and what salary I was expecting. The best they could offer was an admin job that paid shitepence a year and sounded like the first stage in a downward spiral that could only end with headlines like 'Workplace Rampage.' Alternatively, I could do the same job on a temporary basis, so I agreed and asked that my CV be sent to the agency. Hence the phone call.
I made an appointment and went into see them that very day. I had used a temp agency just after I graduated and don't remember there being that much to the registration process. Things have clearly changed. The first step was a twelve or thirteem page form that covered every address I'd had for the last five years, every employer, my bank details, declarations that I hadn't committed genocide or some such crime and two or three pages of densely-typed confidentiality contracts. After finishing this I then had a face-to-face interview with a different, but equally chirpy agency person who asked me for proof of identity and address. I gave her my passport and my mobile phone bill. The passport was dandy but unfortunately the only proof of address acceptable is either a bank statement or a utility bill (the question of whether a mobile phone should be counted as a utility is one for another day). Given that I do all of my banking online and that the utility bills for this address are all in my parents' name, it's not something I can come up with quickly. She also told me that before we could go any further she would need to contact my last three employers (all in Japan of course) and get references. They also need a personal reference from someone who isn't a family member or blood relative.
As I left the agency thinking about how I was going to get everything they needed in order to give a temp job that wouldn't challenge a retarded chimp it dawned on me - the process and requirements involved in signing on were far easier than those necessary to get a temp job. The Job Centre copied my passport, glanced at the mobile phone bill and mentioned nothing about personal references or those from past employers. The agency staff explained to me that all the background checks were necessary because I was applying for a job in financial services, which I can understand (although it's hardly as if I'm trying to get a job managing a hedge fund). Still, surely something must be wrong with a system where it's more difficult to get even a simple temp job than it is to sign on?
Friday morning brought a phone call from a very chirpy temp agency person who had received my CV. A few of my friends and a family member all work for a well-known financial services company nearby, so when I came back to the UK in December I passed on a copy of my CV to a friend who said she'd send it to the right person. The right person finally got back to me last Monday and we had a chat about what kind of job I was looking for and what salary I was expecting. The best they could offer was an admin job that paid shitepence a year and sounded like the first stage in a downward spiral that could only end with headlines like 'Workplace Rampage.' Alternatively, I could do the same job on a temporary basis, so I agreed and asked that my CV be sent to the agency. Hence the phone call.
I made an appointment and went into see them that very day. I had used a temp agency just after I graduated and don't remember there being that much to the registration process. Things have clearly changed. The first step was a twelve or thirteem page form that covered every address I'd had for the last five years, every employer, my bank details, declarations that I hadn't committed genocide or some such crime and two or three pages of densely-typed confidentiality contracts. After finishing this I then had a face-to-face interview with a different, but equally chirpy agency person who asked me for proof of identity and address. I gave her my passport and my mobile phone bill. The passport was dandy but unfortunately the only proof of address acceptable is either a bank statement or a utility bill (the question of whether a mobile phone should be counted as a utility is one for another day). Given that I do all of my banking online and that the utility bills for this address are all in my parents' name, it's not something I can come up with quickly. She also told me that before we could go any further she would need to contact my last three employers (all in Japan of course) and get references. They also need a personal reference from someone who isn't a family member or blood relative.
As I left the agency thinking about how I was going to get everything they needed in order to give a temp job that wouldn't challenge a retarded chimp it dawned on me - the process and requirements involved in signing on were far easier than those necessary to get a temp job. The Job Centre copied my passport, glanced at the mobile phone bill and mentioned nothing about personal references or those from past employers. The agency staff explained to me that all the background checks were necessary because I was applying for a job in financial services, which I can understand (although it's hardly as if I'm trying to get a job managing a hedge fund). Still, surely something must be wrong with a system where it's more difficult to get even a simple temp job than it is to sign on?
Wednesday 16 January 2008
Three glasses in and things don't seem quite as bad
Seeking solace in alcohol, is there anything we Brits do any better? I don't think so. I'm not hammered, just pleasantly toasted and the world seems slightly smoother at the edges. The healing power of shiraz is a wonderful thing. Given that this is ostensibly a blog about my attempts to find a job I probably shouldn't go on about the pleasures of drinking my way through my parents' booze, but it seemed like a good way to start this and wind up what has been another fairly uneventful day.
Applied for some more jobs, got some more rejections, and I'm now seriously consider taking a course in journalism. It's the field I'm aiming to get into and a few articles printed in The Japan Times doesn't seem to be cutting the mustard so far. Perhaps another bit of paper will help. We'll see.
I realised today just how tedious it is writing cover letters and application forms. Of course, everything is done online or by computer so the physical exertion is minimal, but by the time you get to the third or fourth one of the day you start to lose the will to live. I get tired of writing about how fantastic I am and why my skill set makes me a very strong candidate for the role of glorified office junior at Bendover and Takeit Inc. I know what I'm good at and I know what I'm crap at. Unfortunately, being able to drink a whole orchard's worth of Magners doesn't seem to be a quality that many companies are looking for in prospective employees. Anyway, in case any of the organisations I've applied to are reading this blog, here's what my cover letters really mean:
I am looking for a career that will challenge me and allow me to develop new skills = I want a job that gives me more money than I can possibly spend and the chance to finally master Minesweeper.
My experience, background and skills make me a very strong candidate for this position = I'm not thick, I'm employable and I can do all the basic shit that an office monkey needs to do, so just give me the fucking job.
I'm highly motivated and keen to pursue a career in this field = I'm spanking through my savings at a frightening rate of knots and will do pretty much anything as long as it doesn't involve prostitution or marketing. In fact, make that just anything to do with marketing.
I have excellent written and verbal communication skills = I can write and speak.
I have great interpersonal skills = I'm not a sociopath.
I have a good eye for detail = I love finding mistakes in other people's work.
I look forward to hearing from you and thank you for taking the time to consider my application = Please, please, please just give me a job.
In the spirit of my brief anti-marketing remarks, enjoy the sorely-missed Bill Hicks in full flow:
Applied for some more jobs, got some more rejections, and I'm now seriously consider taking a course in journalism. It's the field I'm aiming to get into and a few articles printed in The Japan Times doesn't seem to be cutting the mustard so far. Perhaps another bit of paper will help. We'll see.
I realised today just how tedious it is writing cover letters and application forms. Of course, everything is done online or by computer so the physical exertion is minimal, but by the time you get to the third or fourth one of the day you start to lose the will to live. I get tired of writing about how fantastic I am and why my skill set makes me a very strong candidate for the role of glorified office junior at Bendover and Takeit Inc. I know what I'm good at and I know what I'm crap at. Unfortunately, being able to drink a whole orchard's worth of Magners doesn't seem to be a quality that many companies are looking for in prospective employees. Anyway, in case any of the organisations I've applied to are reading this blog, here's what my cover letters really mean:
I am looking for a career that will challenge me and allow me to develop new skills = I want a job that gives me more money than I can possibly spend and the chance to finally master Minesweeper.
My experience, background and skills make me a very strong candidate for this position = I'm not thick, I'm employable and I can do all the basic shit that an office monkey needs to do, so just give me the fucking job.
I'm highly motivated and keen to pursue a career in this field = I'm spanking through my savings at a frightening rate of knots and will do pretty much anything as long as it doesn't involve prostitution or marketing. In fact, make that just anything to do with marketing.
I have excellent written and verbal communication skills = I can write and speak.
I have great interpersonal skills = I'm not a sociopath.
I have a good eye for detail = I love finding mistakes in other people's work.
I look forward to hearing from you and thank you for taking the time to consider my application = Please, please, please just give me a job.
In the spirit of my brief anti-marketing remarks, enjoy the sorely-missed Bill Hicks in full flow:
Tuesday 15 January 2008
Thank you, Job Centre Plus
My rescheduled appointment was today and thankfully I had no contact with the evil bitch from Hell who set about me last week when I was a few minutes late. Mind you, I think the people who run the job centre must know about this blog as yet again they provided me with some fantastic material for these posts.The first man I spoke to there was called ... wait for it ... Ronald MacDonald (you can see from the picture just how welcoming he was). Feel free to make your own jokes at Ronnie's expense - I'm sure he's heard them all before but if anyone can come up with something original, answers on a postcard to the usual address. Next up was not The Hamburgler but a very pleasant woman who, unless I'm very much mistaken, actually had a sense of humour. I'm not sure how she got through the screening process humouro intacto, but it proves that it can be done. Spent about half an hour with her detailing what I'm doing to find work (didn't mention the blog) and then went off on my merry way into yet another miserable January afternoon.
As far as the nine million applications I've made so far it's been more of the same. I was quite impressed by one rejection so I'll quote it in its entirety:
Thanks for your details. Unfortunately your experience is not right for
this role.
Short and to the point. It makes a change from the usual guff about the quality of the candidates and so on. If only it were possible to write cover letters in a similar style:
I'm fucking ace. I want this job. Here's my CV.
Perhaps this could be the beginning of some kind of recruitment revolution.
Monday 14 January 2008
Weekly Summary
So, the blog is a few days old and the hunt itself has been going on since before Christmas. Planned to post a daily summary of the jobs I'd applied for, the responses I'd received etc, but spent the weekend in true dole monkey style: getting drunk and watching crap TV. That being the case, it'll have to be a summary of all the jobs I've applied for up until now.
According to a couple of the websites I've registered on I've applied for twenty jobs. I've also applied for at least another half dozen by direct emails/letters, or through the company's websites, so I'd say I'm probably sitting at around thirty applications so far. Responses? Maybe three or four of the usual ones, i.e thanks but no thanks, and a few automated confirmation mails. As for interviews, I've heard rumours of their existence but I'm yet to be convinced. Everyone keeps telling me that something will turn up and I agree with them, but I'm worried that that something will involve sitting in a call centre trying not to tell the Great British Public to go fuck themselves. Chin up.
According to a couple of the websites I've registered on I've applied for twenty jobs. I've also applied for at least another half dozen by direct emails/letters, or through the company's websites, so I'd say I'm probably sitting at around thirty applications so far. Responses? Maybe three or four of the usual ones, i.e thanks but no thanks, and a few automated confirmation mails. As for interviews, I've heard rumours of their existence but I'm yet to be convinced. Everyone keeps telling me that something will turn up and I agree with them, but I'm worried that that something will involve sitting in a call centre trying not to tell the Great British Public to go fuck themselves. Chin up.
Thursday 10 January 2008
Who said things in Britain don't run on time?
The trains may be slower than a chav trying to read his ASBO and the buses clearly follow a timetable that's based on chaos theory, but there is at least one British institution that runs bang on time: The Job Centre. Unfortunately the only way I was able to find this out was to arrive three or four minutes late for my appointment. Yep, I arrived at around 3:24 for a 3:20 appointment, was spoken to like a primary school pupil who'd missed the end of play-time bell and told that my appointment would have to be rescheduled for next week. Rough paraphrasing of the conversation:
Receptionist: (not looking up from her paper) Hello?
Me: Hi, I'm a couple of minutes late, sorry. I have an appointment for 3.20.
Receptionist: (grudgingly tearing herself away from lurid tales of celebrity scandal and The X-Factor) What's the appointment for?
Me: A new claim.
Receptionist: (sensing blood) I'll need to see if the lady can still take you, you're late.
Me: I know, I'm sorry, but it's only a couple of minutes. The phone rang just as I was getting ready to leave the house and I thought I should answer it just in case it was a response to one of the jobs I've applied for. (note: this is true, however it was just some douche-bag of a salesman - aren't they supposed to call around tea-time?)
Receptionist: (clearly unimpressed) Where have you come from today?
Me: Blah Blah Street. (about ten or fifteen minutes walk from the Job Centre)
Receptionist: (going into patronising teacher mode) Well, you haven't got much reason to be late then, have you? We'll probably have to see you on another day.
Me: (Pulling out a large hand cannon and leaving a steaming, bloody mess where her head used to be) Fuck you.
OK, I made that final part up, otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here now writing this post. In reality I asked why my appointment had been changed in the first place (at their request), looked on in disbelief when they said it was to make things easier for me, and decided not to create a scene because I didn't want to jeopardise my claim. The whole situation felt like something out of a cringeworthy mockumentary like The Office and, if nothing else, has provided fantastic blogging material.
I understand that they have a schedule to run to but the place was half empty. I don't think it's even the fact that my appointment was rescheduled that's the most annoying part, it's the way they speak to you as if your either an imbecile or some kind of sub-human scum. I imagine that they have some nightmare situations to deal with but does that mean they have to treat everyone like shite?
All that I can say in closing is that I will never again bitch about people who manage to screw the system - more power to them. It does a grand job of screwing us. It's great to be back in Blighty.
Receptionist: (not looking up from her paper) Hello?
Me: Hi, I'm a couple of minutes late, sorry. I have an appointment for 3.20.
Receptionist: (grudgingly tearing herself away from lurid tales of celebrity scandal and The X-Factor) What's the appointment for?
Me: A new claim.
Receptionist: (sensing blood) I'll need to see if the lady can still take you, you're late.
Me: I know, I'm sorry, but it's only a couple of minutes. The phone rang just as I was getting ready to leave the house and I thought I should answer it just in case it was a response to one of the jobs I've applied for. (note: this is true, however it was just some douche-bag of a salesman - aren't they supposed to call around tea-time?)
Receptionist: (clearly unimpressed) Where have you come from today?
Me: Blah Blah Street. (about ten or fifteen minutes walk from the Job Centre)
Receptionist: (going into patronising teacher mode) Well, you haven't got much reason to be late then, have you? We'll probably have to see you on another day.
Me: (Pulling out a large hand cannon and leaving a steaming, bloody mess where her head used to be) Fuck you.
OK, I made that final part up, otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here now writing this post. In reality I asked why my appointment had been changed in the first place (at their request), looked on in disbelief when they said it was to make things easier for me, and decided not to create a scene because I didn't want to jeopardise my claim. The whole situation felt like something out of a cringeworthy mockumentary like The Office and, if nothing else, has provided fantastic blogging material.
I understand that they have a schedule to run to but the place was half empty. I don't think it's even the fact that my appointment was rescheduled that's the most annoying part, it's the way they speak to you as if your either an imbecile or some kind of sub-human scum. I imagine that they have some nightmare situations to deal with but does that mean they have to treat everyone like shite?
All that I can say in closing is that I will never again bitch about people who manage to screw the system - more power to them. It does a grand job of screwing us. It's great to be back in Blighty.
Wednesday 9 January 2008
Surely there's a more effective way
I decided on Monday that it was time to sign on, so off I toddled to my local Job Centre. I've only ever done this once before, the last time I came back to the UK. That was five years ago and as far as I can remember I went along to the Job Centre, filled out some forms, had an interview and promised that I'd do my best to find gainful employment (the fact that I ended up working in a Shell Garage is a story for another day).
I imagined that it would be much the same this time but when I got the Job Centre and explained my situation I was given a leaflet and told to phone the number on it. Apparently the good person at the other end of the line would take me through some questions and an interview lasting 40 minutes. Clearly, the Job Centre's idea of an interview and my own differ. The 'interview' was basically some harassed but pleasant woman going through the questions that I'm sure were on the form five years ago, and me saying "yes" or "no." After about twenty minutes of this she then read me the part at the end where you say that you aren't lying and told me that I'd soon receive a copy of the statement we'd just gone through which I'd have to plant my big inky hand print on (because obviously too thick to write my own name). I have to take this statement with me tomorrow when I go back to the Job Centre for my next interview. Can't wait to see how it goes.
I imagined that it would be much the same this time but when I got the Job Centre and explained my situation I was given a leaflet and told to phone the number on it. Apparently the good person at the other end of the line would take me through some questions and an interview lasting 40 minutes. Clearly, the Job Centre's idea of an interview and my own differ. The 'interview' was basically some harassed but pleasant woman going through the questions that I'm sure were on the form five years ago, and me saying "yes" or "no." After about twenty minutes of this she then read me the part at the end where you say that you aren't lying and told me that I'd soon receive a copy of the statement we'd just gone through which I'd have to plant my big inky hand print on (because obviously too thick to write my own name). I have to take this statement with me tomorrow when I go back to the Job Centre for my next interview. Can't wait to see how it goes.
Here we go again
I wrote a blog like this a couple of years ago when I was living in Tokyo and looking for a job. I'm now back in the UK and going through the whole rigmarole again. The last time I lived in the UK I signed on, and one of the requirements was that I keep a diary of the jobs I'd applied for. Given that we're five years down the line and blogging is the new __________ (insert your own witty way of finishing this sentence) I felt that this was one way to keep track of the hoops I have to jump through in order to get gainful employment. As I said in my profile, I'm not stupid and I have experience in a variety of areas. I'm willing to relocate if necessary and I'm not afraid of hard work. It surely shouldn't be that difficult then, should it?
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