I have been filling out a plethora of application forms. Although I was told to paste a C.V. to my job searching site ,I find that almost every post says “Do not attach C.V. or your application will not be considered.”
So I sit and type out my work history and my school examination results again and again. They also ask to see original certificates and I do have ageing scrolls and pieces of paper that have turned brown at the edges with my results on. I should ask them to wear gloves and put them on a cushion to read them.
Who remembers what date they started a job in the past 30 years? I have enough trouble remembering which year.They probably don’t want to know that far back, but I feel that if I did it and worked hard at it they should have to read about it!
Then they want referees. Most of the folk that I worked with are well into retirement or have passed on ,if you know what I mean.
Thankfully I have some really compos mentis friends. (If you didn’t do Latin at school then “Vae autem vobis amicis meis.” “Woe to you my friends”, actually I don’t remember that much either I looked it up.) I found a definition of compos mentis it said “able to think clearly and be in control of and responsible for your actions:” I have never been that; which is half the problem, and why I keep ending up in difficult situations. But some of my friends are, or at least give the impression that they are in control of themselves, so they will kindly write about me to anyone who asks.
So far I have only received polite refusals from prospective employers ,but I live in hope. One of the infuriating things that happens is that I fill out reams of pages only to find tacked on the end “must be a car driver and have access to a vehicle.” Why? For the past few decades I have traveled the country by public transport, bicycle and shank’s pony and I got every where I was supposed to be.
As you can tell I am behaving like the woman of a certain age that I am. Having coffee with friends the other day we discussed what small things made us annoyed. Mine was being called by my christian name by a spotty irk who sits behind a desk, calls me from a government organisation or receives me for an appointment. What happened to having respect for your elders or position. Anyway my neighbour calls me “Margaret”. I have given up correcting him, so Margaret it is. I might put that on a few forms, then when my name is called I shan’t feel so prickly.
Must continue filling in the boxes, now what Grade did I get for Home economics…….?