I don’t have a day-job at the moment. Every Monday, I have to go to down to the Jobcentre and report on what I’ve done to ‘look for work’. Last week, my ‘activity’ equaled 36 hours. This week’s projection is also 36. That’s a full-time job.
For me, this involves drinking coffee while clicking through more than 6 job-sites, looking for the magic words, ‘please send CV and cover letter to’: someone who is probably younger than me at Shehasajobandyoudon’tdotcom.
Actually, those are easy. Because I have a CV and can write damn good letters. It’s the forms that get me. Especially the ones online where you get timed out after let’s see, 6 minutes and thirty nine seconds. That doesn’t even cover my email address. Because it’s really long. I also have a long employment history. Because I’m older than some of the people hopefully reading my application. And I’ve worked at a lot of places for little or no money. Yes, that counts.
I could copy and paste. But the only thing I hate more than full online applications is screwy formatting. This over here is bold, this is in 8point and this is text-wrapped. Obviously not too tight. Cover it up. Go away. This is the point where I step away from the computer and watch Modern Family. Or a movie with lots of hyphenated curses in it.
Sometimes, like today, I’m able to get my hands on a printed application. They still exist. The only thing I hate more than online applications and screwy formatting is BLOCK capitals. And those little boxes.
I’m looking into some volunteer work. This involves three forms. My advisor looked them over. And I tried to answer the questions in her eyes.
Yes, I’m aware I have a long email address. Yes, that is my mother’s maiden name. No, it isn’t German. Yes, I have lived in 6 places in the last five years. Yes, really.
After signing my name 8 times, I gathered up my passport and two other forms of ID and I left.
I still have to do a few hours of work to find work today. After that, I may watch Pulp Fiction.