Job Searching as an Unemployed Professional – Life After Graduation
I asked my husband to write a guest blog post concerning his current job search, as you can see from his writing and the above photo, he is quite a character. It is however a realistic and personal tale of the journey he is on. Enjoy…
‘Finally I had finished the arduous three years of three hour bus trips to university and the hours of tediously trying to avoid reading an entire book in order to complete essays in the shortest time possible to fit around our family life. I was filled with hopes and dreams of my glorious new beginnings, how I would rise through the ranks to become director of social services in a matter of months, and I set about earnestly applying for jobs.
This feeling largely stayed with me until the fateful day I entered the Job Centre. For the sake of anonymity I shall call the harbinger of shattered dreams by what she should have been named at birth: Ogrefacetheevil. Following a strange conversation with a lady who seemed to object (for no apparent reason) to my wife sitting with us for the conversation, to which I was shocked as many people would surely appreciate moral support- to strip them of this I suppose is the closest the Job Centre can get to jet-washing people in chemical showers upon entry to the facility. Fortunately I require no such support to speak my mind in such places and promptly informed her of this failing.
Then I met ogrefacetheevil- a creature formed from shadow and fire, welded together by thorny iron bands of judgement and condescension. By this time I had been told about sanctions countless times, which I had managed to keep from knocking my resolve too much, but then ogrefacetheevil began her campaign to annihilate anything resembling aspiration or even the believability of a reasonable wage- declaring time and time again that I must apply for everything; barely managing to teeter over the edge of bluntly declaring it and into the camp of insinuation in stating that I should abandon my lofty goals and start begging at the bus station. Pretty much anything to avoid being a wasteful scrounger who loves nothing more in life than receiving the monumental sum of £110 a week from the Job Centre.
Fortunately being a professional (and writing up searches on an ipad) is sufficient to convince anybody at the Job Centre that I am not like who they perceive as wasters and so I have little cause to argue with them on a weekly basis now. Being a “Social Worker” is also useful as I get to avoid the awkwardness of questions like “what do you do?” by just saying I’m a social worker, rather than have to endure the ensuing pity from random strangers which goes along with them checking I haven’t stolen their wallet whilst they were distracted.
Searching for work- living in the north west, jobs are at something of a premium, the easiest way of working out which job you are likely to get is via a simple formulae- take your qualifications and experience, half the value of your qualification and presume a blind orang-utan has more experience in whatever you are applying for than you do for me this equals applying for jobs I am overqualified for and will instantly be looking to change up from as soon as I have the position- at this point however I just need an income (and preferably not to get within 50 feet of ogrefacetheevil again) so it doesn’t sit quite so badly with me.
Once I am offered an interview I generally do well, having an ability to speak about my own greatness at quite extensive length, I have never before been nervous in interviews but recently I have found myself feeling the pressure a lot more- not at all from the interviewing panel but entirely from what it means to my family to be able to provide a better standard of life for them (which pretty much means being able to pay the bills and not have to consider selling my flesh to medical research companies ). To be clear I did not choose my career path for financial reward- only a nincompoop of the highest order would go into social work for the money, but now it has become my sole drive which is such a shame, but once we are level I’m sure this will change again. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a Christian as it would be far easier to just stand near a cash machine robbing the vulnerable rather than trying to work with them but I suppose one is ultimately more rewarding. Joking aside though, all of my ways of making money from the earlier years are things that would run contrary to my moral code now which is irritating, and occasionally tempting but none of which I would ever return to- many thanks to my wife for helping keep me on the straight and narrow these years.
I have another interview Monday for a job that I should stroll into but it is far from ideal, but it is only for the short term, and I know that in a year or two I will be in a far better position, the jump from unqualified to qualified professional work in this section is about 150% so it is worth sticking with in the immediate to be able to one day keep my beautiful wife and children in Uggs, Manolo’s and all the other strange things women seem to enjoy.
I think it’s interesting the difference between men and women, I would genuinely be happy with my laptop, a fridge and a fire pit to cook meat on- but I have to say I have come to appreciate the aesthetical touches she brings to life, bearing in mind that just before I met her all the lightbulbs had blown in my house and I was carrying around a lamp everytime I moved room- until eventually the lamp blew, then I ran out of candles and eventually thought “oh crap, best get some lightbulbs” I think it can be said that her influence is a definite positive in my world.’