Applying for that job

I have just finished a job application, a very uncomfortable experience for anyone English I would suggest, for to complete a good application you have to promote yourself shamelessly.  The whole process makes me want to cringe as I try to persuade the local manager of B&Q that I am the fulcrum around which their DIY business needs to revolve and that my two degrees and years of work in a quite surprising array of different jobs have been leading me to this moment, this one chance to sell shower heads like they've never been sold before!

To be honest, the job I have just applied for is a bit more senior than that, although just think of the discounts you would get...

The post is ideal for me and this has proven to be one of those rare occasions where I looked through the job spec and thought, 'yep, fine', which is very encouraging.  The trouble of course comes when I then have to demonstrate my all-round genius and capability in the specified areas. How do you persuade someone that you are a good communicator?  Seduce them?  How do you demonstrate a keen interest in public affairs? Sign a trade deal with Nambia? (sic.)

So for two days I have bigged myself up to the nth degree - not a tedious euphemism spouted by some annoying rapper, just a tiresome effort required of a middle-aged man.  I have told them of the conferences I have run, the websites I have single-handedly designed, developed and then sold to Microsoft, the people I have reduced to tears of pathetic gratitude as I have successfully explained to them the vagaries of the social care system in England.  In short, I have fallen in love with myself all over again.  I am bloody brilliant! Yes!

The anti-climax comes when you submit the darned thing, this crafted eulogy to employment perfection - me.  Everything is very helpful in the modern world: you click on a link, upload the screed you have sweated over, then press 'Send' and it is gone, into the HR ether. Brilliant.

But then what?

I'd like a small fanfare.  Or a cake.  A letter from the Mayor.  Something - but there is nothing.  Just a quite small sense of satisfaction tinged with a lingering dread that the buggers won't even get in touch, even though I am so very clearly the man they need.

The only recourse I have therefore is to put a couple of veggie sossies on to cook and to break out the baked beans.  Rock and Roll.

Oh, and pop to the local B&Q, just in case...


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