So I’m currently job-hunting, and it’s a drag. There is absolutely nothing fun about it. Job hunting is like the administrative work that one does at the end of a massive project: a neatly bow-tied set of annoying tasks that need to be completed, and in a certain order, for there to be microcosmic harmony in thy microverse.
Luckily, I happen to know people who understand that being unemployed sucks, and have gone out of their way to do what they can to assist me, so as to minimise the amount of time I spend sitting at home, firing off CVs at websites and making phone-calls to people who would rather not have to suffer one more dire American accent interrupting the flow of calls from otherwise entirely more delightful Australian accents (I don’t think much of my accent, and I’m stuck with it for life, so what can I do but mock myself?).
One such friend just happens to be a pro at this whole job hunting thing. And so today our lessons began. In an empty pub.
There I sat, at the Royal Hotel, preparing cue-cards, nursing a Coke (as one does on St. Paddy’s Day) when my friend walked in. A quick meal later, we were sitting on the couches near the front entrance, doing our best not to fall in (due to there being a distinct lack of springs in the mattresses, a by-product of many years of abuse from students – mainly engineers), and she was prepping me. “So, begin” she said.
Her eyebrows flickered like a match that had just been lit.
So I began. And blustered my way through about 2 minutes of incomprehensible nonsense about…a career path layered in the blood of cheesecake-making virgins and there’s a butterfly over there and who the fuck else knows what else. She took notes. Serious notes. The kind that I took when listening with deadly urgency to lectures on Thomas Pynchon.
And that’s when the feedback and the graphical structuring began. But only after first having the wind taken out of the sails of my ego.
The presentation needed a lot of work. A lot. So the exercises continue tomorrow. And possibly several more times throughout the rest of the week, until I can comfortably sit down in front of a group of random strangers and communicate in an intelligent way with them the way I would with friends, or family.
Oh, and before I forget, in far more important news, my friend Malcolm was appointed the new Australian Marriage Equality NSW convener, so many claps, hurrahs, and salutations to him on this most excellent appointment. Also, he throws wicked dinner parties.