I’ve just got a knock back for a job. I really fancied this job too. It was a post as a part time Admin Assistant for a charity. A really great charity locally. Apparently I’m not The Right Fit at this time. So I’m wondering, does that mean I might be The Right Fit at some random point in the future? Or is my Fit something that is fixed, rigid? What exactly is The Right Fit anyway? I had all the necessary AND desirable qualifications and experience. What you might call The Right Fit.
I’ve never had to job hunt before. It’s all new to me at the grand old age of forty… **coughs says something unintelligible** . In my previous incarnation as a globe-trotting telly type I just kind of wafted between jobs. I was like Tarzan, swinging through the jungle of vacancies, grabbing the the best looking vine, beating my chest whilst letting out a cry of triumph. I actually said ‘No’ to a few things. How flippant is that?
But now I am not the Right Fit. They didn’t even know I had MS!!
Not The Right Fit…
OK I’m rambling now, but really… if you’re going to turn someone down give them some honest feedback.
“We read your CV and frankly you’re completely crap. Why the hell did you bother applying?
“You are clearly a numpty who would last five minutes on the job before you got bored.”
“Your CV scared us. You are clearly too qualified for this job and better than all of us put together. Please go somewhere else so we won’t feel intimidated.”
I bumped into a friend yesterday who was beaten to a Midday Assistant’s job by a Grandma. Apparently, Granny came across better and had more experience.
“More experience of what exactly?” asked my perplexed friend. “Of watching children eat?”
The reason I’m job-hunting is to keep The Hair happy (I have news about The Hair…that’s another blog post though). Well actually that’s not strictly true. We tend to have this conversation regularly:
The Hair: We could do with some more money coming in.
Me: ::Looking around the room for help::
The Hair: Have you sent your novel out to any publishers yet?
Me: ::Looking for emergency escape route::
The Hair: ::Running his fingers through his luscious locks in exasperation:: Your writing is the world’s best kept secret
Me: I’ll just get a job it’s easier
The Hair: You can’t get a job, you need to pick The Scoundrels up from school, taxi them to hockey, football, futsal, hockey, football, futsal, football and hockey. And Scouts. And the dog would be left all alone all day and that’s not fair. We got a dog because you would be working from home. Writing your book.
Me: Well Elizabeth Gilbert worked in a bar before she was a famous writer.
The Hair: She didn’t have MS.
I love my writing, but the pressure to earn a JK Rowling income from it makes me want to run away. I might get a Christmas job in Tesco. That’ll keep him quiet for a bit…