and in other news…

Woke nice an early this morning, 5am as usual, to prepare for another soul destroying slog through the job boards, another round of CV review and revise, another day in the life of an unemployed person.

My day always follows the same routine, wake, watch the news , have a coffee and break my fast with toast.

I have come to conclude that the majority of our economic woes would go away if only the media would stick to reporting the news instead of abusing their monopolistic hold on our collective short attention span to drive the agenda of their owners or political influencers. Something about responsible journalism comes to mind. But we do not want to risk the freedoms of our journalists to expose corruption and challenge the establishment.

So what caught my attention this morning was “Iain Duncan Smith, the Work and Pensions Secretary, tells parents to get a job.”

Iain has the answer for us all.
From here

Thanks Iain, I hadn’t thought of that. What a fantastic innovation to the situation faced today by millions of British families today.

What does Iain Duncan Smith know about life for working class families anyway? Sure, he and his ilk tricked enough of them into voting for their party, and I can’t deny that standing for election is like to be the most gruelling job selection process known to man, but if and when he and his are finally ousted they will not be joining the dole queue. Not as long as he can speak. Iain Duncan Smith is a well paid after dinner speaker. And let’s not forget about the many offers for consulting roles that are sure to flow in for senior politicians once their political careers are finished. No, the Right Honourable gentleman from Edinburgh has never known the feel of poverty or the struggle to find work.

We are trying to get a job Iain. Unless you have something constructive to add to the conversation do us all a favour and go swill on champaign. Repeat the process until you finally realise you have no authority or gravitas to preach to the working class. Having had a real job nearly 30 years ago does not qualify you to speak to the reality of working class living in 2012.

I sent out another 19 application yesterday. I have been invited to participate in a telephone interview tomorrow and a face to face meet and greet (not even an interview) next week. This is progress. The past month has been bad. Not even a single telephone interview. Perhaps things are turning. Lets not go on about green shoots though. The main difference is that I have expanded my search parameters to include things I once thought behind me. Never mind that in all the world there are only 20 people who can claim to have my experience in a particular area. The opportunities in that area are rare. My primary skill set is also rare. So, while constantly testing the boundaries of my skill set against the market and refining my CV I have also learned that there are real drawbacks to specialising.

314 applications and counting

There is an old song by some oldtimer that asks the question I feel in my soul these days…

How may roads? he asks.

Tell me this, if you can:

How many applications?

I’ve heard people talk about the gold rush and how aside from the few lucky lucky enough to get out of the Klondike with their gold and those nasty enough to steal it from those who didn’t the majority of the wealth was made by the suppliers.

If you were selling shovels and wheel barrels and prostitutes and whiskey and blankets and tents and were smart enough to leave the prospecting to the gamblers you got out of the Klondike with a healthy return on your investment and a reasonable pot of compensation for your time and trouble.

So are there shovels that I can sell?

I do not want to keep looking for gold.

I do not want to start shovelling shit.

What am I to do to make a living wage and recoup my investment? My pension and savings are now gone, my future looking bleaker by the day, my guts starting to rot.

Well hell what do we do now when the future looks so dark the night has more light then the dreams that once kept me smiling through the desperation and desire to find a simple fucking job.

This is my first entry.

I am going to update it once a week.

My weekly updates will include:

• My latest job application count
• Analytical data like who responded and who couldn’t even be bothered to fucking acknowledge me
• Examples of the kinds of rejections I commonly receive
• Financial details that should help to shed light on the actual cost of unemployment

Oh yes, if you are one of my creditors… I promise that I will pay you when I am in a position to do so. Having debt collectors call me daily and sending me letters threatening legal action and what… are you going to tie me to a tree and scrape the value of my debt from my body? Maybe you can cook me, sell the fat and ground bones, but a judge will get no more satisfaction.

If my creditors keep harassing me there is a reasonable chance my wife will flee just to avoid the daily ritual with the rounds of calls from this debt collector or that.

I have your details on file dear creditors.

You will get your money when the world has once again turned the screw.

Until then please consider the effect of constantly turning the screws in my thumbs.

by the way guys… those of you creditors who knew better… yes, I did have some money stashed away. Its all gone now. Paid to my landlord to keep a roof over my head for three more months. With a bit of luck that will be enough time to find a job and get my shit sorted. If not I suppose there is always the possibility of getting into a hostel. If they are all filled up I can always throw myself upon the mercy of her majesty and hope for a bed, three meals, and a roof over my head through the winter.

Unemployment is unfulfilling

Dignity demands employment

When the jewels have been sold off at a fire sale and the barons fled to warmer climes dignity is a luxury

Have I lost the plot?

I just want a job!