Best advice when looking for a job, screw the advice

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Having done a spot of job hunting of recent, and having had no reason to put together a CV for well over 20 years, I set about seeking advice hoping to get it right first time.

Well. To be frank. All the advice given, Googled or otherwise gained was mostly a load of old rubbish. And why? Because all the advice given is by currently employed people with no reason or intention of keeping a CV up to date, probably ever. And to be completely blunt, my advice to them is to MOVE AWAY FROM THE ADVICE COUNTER SO FAST YOU LEAVE A DUST STORM THAT REMAINS PERFECTLY CLEAR IN OUTER SPACE AND BEYOND.

Take the advice regarding ageism – there’s a lot out there. I’m early fifties, and the advice given is: you don’t have to add your age, you don’t have to add the years worked at any given job, and you don’t need to add when you graduated from school/university/college. Oh really? Well have you attempted to complete an online application lately? Because practically every job you apply for these days requires mandatory data input of namely birthday/age, years at job etc etc. IF YOU DON’T ADD IT IN, YOU CAN’T GET PAST THAT SCREEN, AS IN, YOU ARE STUCK AND APPLICATION STATUS = FAILED. Do I hear a suggestion to lie perhaps?

My next favourite – note the sarcasm – is, do not exceed 2 pages. Bullet form key points of each job held. Oh really? Two agencies I used came back to me with, you need to expand big time if you want to get an interview, forget the bullets, give the employer detail and, if you exceed 2 pages so be it. MAKE YOUR MINDS UP PLEASE.

But the thing that really gets my goat going is the request for a lengthy personal statement to include examples of how you can fulfil the duties of this position, and how you would fulfil the personal specifications for said job – they even suggest adding an extra page if need be, meaning, you’d better tell us a lot about yourself or don’t bother applying.  And while yes, I raise my hand and agree a personal statement is valid, the reason my goat gets going is that after compiling anything from the requested 500 to 3000 words, you barely get a reply or feedback or anything that gives any reason to believe your hours of work for this literary piece was even read. HAVE A LITTLE RESPECT. HOW ABOUT YOU TELL ME WHY I’M NOT SUITABLE THEN? YOU DO KNOW I PUT MY HEART INTO THAT PIECE OF WORK, DON’T YOU?

Yes I’m having a bit of rant. Yes I am now employed. And yes I’d love to hear what advice you’ve been given, or have given, which you consider to be good, bad or just plain STOOPID

 

 

 

 

Toast-Boy

I love toast, whether it be warm toast with butter and marmalade, beans on toast or gooey melted cheese on toast, even fish paste on toast works for me.  But a  colleague of mine must surely take the biscuit toast when it comes to eating the blooming stuff.

This dear young man – Toast-boy –  can eat a loaf of bread every single day, which, as he is skinnier than a bean sprout, shouldn’t be too much of a problem or be any of my business.  But as he eats from the free supply of bread for all staff members, he is starting to attract attention.  And to be honest, if he continues he might find himself being decked with a stale loaf by a disgruntled and hungry colleague.

 A couple of times I’ve had the pleasure of sharing the bread board with him, and I have to say I find myself speechless as he piles slices on his plate before smearing them with umpteen different toppings.  He’s not fussy about the bread he likes either, brown, white, seed, healthy muesli, nope he is a man of variety.  Clearly he likes to pace himself, and hits the bread bin roughly three times a day, and always at the same time.  At one stage I wondered if he packed it all up and took it home for the family, but no, that can’t be possible as  he devours half of it as he makes his way back to his desk – no doubt his metabolism working ninety-to-the-dozen.

It’s become so amusing and well known now, that last week when we had our official cake break, sponsored by the office that is,  you could see all eyes glued to Toast-boy as he hit the table, piling up his plate.  I didn’t see this, but apparently he helped himself to two bags of olives, as well as a tower of other savouries.  Oh-my what a joy he is to watch

This morning as, I spread my peanut butter, I thought I’d break the ice and have a chat with him, but we only got as far as his drinking habits of hot water and honey before it started to seem pretty obvious that I was snooping. 

P, our kitchen dictator has her beady eye on him, and while she has had a bit of a giggle so far, I can feel she will not be able to stop herself from blasting him into the stratosphere shortly, as she does with the rest of us when leaving a humble crumb on the kitchen counter.

It will be a case of, is it a bird, is it a plane, err no, it’s orbiting Toast-boy, peanut butter pot attached to his bum…