Jabs, Jobs and Krispy Kreme addiction (Part 1)

Friday, May 30, 2014

Have you ever felt constantly wrong in your line of work? Where, when you wake up you feel as though all the decisions you've ever made are akin to road to hell, paved with your approval and that you deserve another shot at growing up?

Me neither.


The thrill of looking for employment surpasses the actual moment when you realize that you're expected to start working from the coming week. Suddenly, all of joblessness seems to be the best you will never have. You start taking into account how all your shopping trips will have to be made only on a Sunday, give the time to get yourself waxed and pluck moustache too, on the same day. How do you head to college, other official institutes to drop your CV, to prep for MPhil and to eat from Krispy Kreme for the rest of the week? How would you enjoy cheap movie tickets now that you're working on Tuesday-Wednesday and even Thursday? What would you do with all your dresses that you spent time on while shopping on a given weekday (when dresses are cheaper at Sarojini)  now that you're being offered a position at company where a) you have to tame your dressing sense and b) you no longer have people to inspire you to dress a certain way every morning and c) not being able to afford clothes that don't require you to head out on weekdays at Sarojini. For point b) I don't mean crushes but just men and women dressed straight out of Pinterest (that even a banal institute like our Film School offered). How else are you going to enjoy disguise unemployment after waking up at 1 pm and pretending that rejecting an offer caused you a lot of misery and pain when in reality you're honestly hoping for them to ask you to work for peanuts so that you can outrightly turn them down. Willing to work for free or for the value I deserve. I don't work cheap. (and I prefer buttercream frosting with my cupcake.)

Currently, my daily schedule has me fussing over no job that I could possible enjoy from 10 am to 12:30 pm in the bed, while I try to figure who or what is "Vaango Indirapuram" and why would anyone like that flash on Truecaller on my phone. I figure this blog is too personal so I am still going ahead with my gut feeling and not putting it down on my resume. Imagine if I end up constantly whining about my tenth grade math teacher and she ends up reading it? She will possibly jump off the second floor corridor leaving generations of numb nuts without having experienced the trauma we all faced back in the day. I don't deem this whole politics of inspiration- of giving importance to someone to their face (unless it's Anthony Kiedis or Adam Levine) or have them commit to this blog as a means to proving anything. This page exists cause anarchy. Or, the fact that I don't have a boyfriend to bore at night or whatever rocks your boat. I digress but that's the key to my life.

As I was explaining, by 12 noon, the janitress (who claims I am plotting her murder) turns up in my room and throws a tantrum on the lines of how I will cause a delay in her work and I run for my life (mostly to grab my iPad/newspaper) or to kill sometime until she's lost all her patience and I, my will to waste more time. By this hour, around 1:30 pm, I've taken a shower, I am well fed and ready to get to writing more cover letters.

The topic 'cover letters' ought to occupy a whole post but I'll concise the same in general, as a reference for this. Having no experience in writing and begging people (and by that I mean mortal beings, as good as me) to have me employed in their organization because I can punctuate, spell and not use comic sans while making sure I can participate in life altering decisions is highly stressful. When I started out, reading cover letter samples depressed me like Darth Vader but (much like sex) once you're used to the regime, you start enjoying it. I write cover letters for thrill of getting call backs from people now. It's reached a point where when given a certain piece of work to be accomplished, I automatically open word and automatically start writing cover letter, regardless of the work I am suppose to do. In the past two weeks, I've penned down over a dozen such letters and to every half a dozen letters that I write, I hear from one employer.

The journey gets exciting from here. I pick up the lead which replies to me, further read up on them only to find myself completely excited at being associated with them. I ensure I rock the interview, I make best friends or pretend to love their children or even hide my skills, just to make sure that I am the candidate they're looking for the job. Once these details are settled and offer(s) been made, I regret. I regret applying because, obviously, the terms and conditions suck. The office sucks monkey balls and I, in my head, have already planned a 3o year association with them (no less) wherein I bump into the man of my dreams while having already lost 1o kilos and continue to write more cover letters, in eternal hope that someone, somewhere who has a better office coffee and is closer in proximity to Sarojini Nagar and Krispy Kreme whilst still being in South Delhi will hire me.

As I was wrapping up this part one on my two part series on employment, I have come across an advertisement put up for vacancies for video editors and videographers interns. I hope I am excused legitimately cause I need to penn a rejection letter to an editing 'job' and apply for editing 'internship' in another city. 

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