Having rapidly, and somewhat desperately, answered each and every one of the ads posted on Gumtree, Jobsite, JustLondonJobs, Totaljobs and many more since July of last year, I was lucky to even have recieved a rejection letter from a small percentage of those I applied to on a daily basis.
Arriving back to my home-town, without a single penny saved up and no career lined up, I was lucky enough to find a job at Pizza Express.
So there I was, a degree in my filing cabinet, serving pizza to what can only be desribed as the scum of Luton town. Don't get me wrong, a percentage of our customers are just lovely, to whom I would happily wait on any time of day. The remaining percentage make my life as a waitress absolute hell. Just last week I was summoned away with the wave of a hand, with the words 'there's a good girl' stinging my ears. Needless to say, I insulted the dickhead in the armani shirt, who was arguing with me over a £2 strawberry sundae I'd charged him for his daughter (the guy had an Audi parked outside for goodness sake!) and was almost fired for calling him pathetic and a disgusting influence on the five children sat around him. Ahem.
So, I think my time as a waitress is quickly coming to an end. I'm getting far too old, far too cynical and far too careless to continue serving arseholes, and it's coming at the expense of a group of people I work with that I absolutely adore. I'd also just like to mention that I probably would not have lasted the job if it weren't for the wonderful people I have worked with.
Countless nights I have gone home, on the verge of tears, to call my boyfriend to complain of my night at the restaurant. Why, I bawled, why? Why couldn't I find a job in my sector, and why must I be subjected to serving morons when I was trying my very hardest every single day to find a job? (I'd just like to formerly thank said boyfriend for listening to these outbursts, with no less patience and sympathy, every single time 11pm came and I arrived home, tired and covered in pizza sauce, chocolate sauce and coffee stains.)
Having introduced the boyfriend onto the scene, I'd just like to mention that having stood by him while he searched endlessly for a new job, having seen his spirtis drop at every job application ignored, I am proud to say he is now excelling in a fantastic job that he loves.
Now that my degree-less boyfriend was living his dream, I was more than encouraged that I, the degree-holder, would soon follow suit. That was back in January, and with the end of March fast approaching (I had turned 23 with not a glimmer of hope of the shiny career I had envisioned obtaining since I was 16) I had still not managed to find anything.
Having gone to many interviews, submitted various pieces of work and pored over thousands of jobs on the internet, I was encouraged by my boyfriend's mother to look into teaching. I can't say I was ever excited at this prospect, but I applied for teaching jobs with gusto. Teaching assistant jobs seemed to be easily obtained by several of my friends and acquaintences, but I was met, again, with more blank messages and un-kept promises that in the event of an opening, I would be kept on file and contacted.
I had an order in which I wanted to live my life. An order that me and boyfriend couldn't agree upon. HIS: Get married. Have children. Continue career. Go travelling. MINE: Go travelling. Get a career. Get married. Have children.
I am happy to say, however, that I may have finally found the stepping stone to my career. A six-week placement with a PR company in Richmond has given me back my hope at finding a job I know I am best suited to. With promises of working in and out of the office, writing articles and attending press releases in and outside of London, I am excited to finally be doing something mentally stimulating.
And with this new chapter in my life fast approaching, another aspect of my life is fast developing also. I will be living with my boyfriend in London for the whole of my placement, an experiment, really, to see how well we live together before diving into a commitment. Kind of like a 'try-before-you-buy' thing (I'm very careful like that.) After two years of travelling between London and Leicester and London and Luton, it will be nice to go home to him every night, with the knowledge that it can be short-lived if it's not our cup of tea. I'm sure Jaimin won't miss the late-night, emotional phone-calls about Pizza Express.
So, as a final report, I'm glad to say that I am still in love and still hungry in my pursuit to start my career. And, in a corny way, it's all the more rewarding when you know you have earnt it.
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