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Job hunting, part 2.

May 9, 2012

I write mostly for free, and that is mostly – but not entirely – why last night I slept on a mattress on the floor of a “studio flat” (aka bedsit) with two other people who had also spent their respective days doing piss-ant unpaid “creative work” for other people. 

Despite studying creative writing formally for four years, and therefore being told repeatedly that there’s “no money in it”, I’ve never really had a proper career plan and have just assumed it’ll all come out okay in the wash. “The wash”, I’m now beginning to understand, is my mid-twenties, and I’m still up to my tits in cider every Friday night and hungover in my retail job every Saturday morning and my “career plan” is looking more and more like that episode of South Park with the underpants gnomes.

Instead of stealing knickers, I’m writing short stories about grilled cheese sandwiches and wondering how I’m going to pay for my little habits, which include but are not restricted to: agreeing to go on holiday with people when I’m drunk, buying festival tickets and then changing my mind, buying twelve books at a time and then reading one I find under my bed instead, going into Whole Foods for a tub of their frankly rather sexual peanut butter and then spending an additional £40 on “groceries”, returning from the bar with “shots for EVERYBODY!”, trawling eBay for discount Patti Smith records and then spending four times as much on a brand new 180g vinyl in Rough Trade because “I might as well whilst I’m here.”

I have a weekend job in a bookstore and a small freelance writing gig for £0.02 per word. This is not enough to keep me in the finest Tatty Devine jewels, so I’m job-hunting. In these penny-pinching times, jobs are scarce, but there are options. I was dicking around on Gumtree and, once I’d exhausted the ads for writing jobs, I decided to have a gander at the “general jobs” tab to see if there was anything I’m remotely qualified for. Turns out, there was.

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In my head, this is charming and not creepy. Whilst we’re on the subject, the word “charming” only counts when it comes out of Zooey Deschanel’s face; otherwise it is said with sarcasm. The lowest form of wit. 

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This sounds like a magical adventure of glitter, false eye lashes and being yelled at for dreaming on the job. Unfortunately I can’t drive and I’m not handy in anyway, shape or form.

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Thwarted once again by my lack of driving license. I feel so inadequate, I’m going to eat a whole thing of sunblushed tomatoes, oil ‘n’ all.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. November 1, 2012 5:12 pm

    Now that’s a damn shame because that last gig sounded truly promising. Have you thought about applying at Whistles? I love that shop, but we don’t have them in the U.S. Do they permit you to sell plasma in the UK?

    • January 31, 2013 4:58 pm

      I only just spotted this! Fuck, this blog is so neglected. In the UK, there’s no financial compensation for donating blood/plasma/etc so alas no. Browsing Gumtree for mad ads it is!

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