As of Friday, I am officially, erm, non-unemployed, to put it much grammarously.
After what feels like YONKS of job hunting, I finally found something when I wasn’t really looking, in a place I honestly didn’t expect to. Marianne and I went to a jobs fair last week; it was mainly full of potash and construction jobs, and lots of shiny posters of people wearing hard hats and grinning inanely. Frankly, I didn’t hold out much hope of anyone wanting to hire someone with a Phd in coffee, so Miri and I were really just there for the freebies. In that respect, we did very well indeed. Miranda scored herself two rubber ducks from SIAST, a frisbee from CIBC bank, and dozens of pens and a few bribery-flavoured lollipops. It was on a quest for another lolly that we came across the SGI stall (for non-Reginans, that is Saskatchewan Government Insurance. Yep, insurance is nationalised, well, provincially-owned here, sooooooooo much easier than comparing and negotiating with hundreds of extortionate companies in the UK!!). A very friendly guy called Jim asked if I was looking for work, I said yes, but also that I’d applied to SGI back in June and never heard a squeak back. He explained that they usually just recruit at entry level, and then promote people internally. He took a look at my resume anyway, and said he felt “under qualified” in comparison! I can’t help feeling my qualifications are pretty useless though – he has a job, I don’t!
(An aside, and RANT KLAXON! we watched BBC Question Time the other night, with the Tories’ new and inventive ways of torturing the poor: apparently if you haven’t got a job and you’re under 25, you should go back and live with your parents so you can’t claim housing benefit, do community service in order to get your already-reduced unemployment benefit – thus putting people who get paid properly to do community service jobs out of work – and if you are STILL out of work, go back to school and learn new skills. Which is only ever going to result in a lot of drastically over-skilled, over-educated unemployed people chasing low-skilled, part time, minimum wage jobs, and up to their eyeballs in debt from university or college fees. Cos that is the perfect solution, right? Idiots.)
But moving swiftly on… the next day, Jim called me to invite me to an interview, and through a roundabout series of events including doing obscure HR tests for admin work, I got offered a job at SGI! This is brilliant news!! It’s only entry-level, but it’s a foot in the door at least, and could lead on to more exciting things. It being insurance, I’ve had to sign confidentiality agreements and things, so I can’t go in to too much detail on here obviously – fairly easy to agree to since I really don’t feel like I know what I’m doing yet anyway. I start on the 16th, so hopefully all will be revealed then!
Which does mean though, that I have ten days to try and find child care for Miranda again. This could prove tricky. Ugh.
I’ve been doing more poetry! It was Culture Days last weekend, and there was another poetry slam at the Mercury. We actually got to write in advance this time, so I was a little more prepared. This one was just before I got offered the job though:
One question I encounter that drives me quite beserk,
‘There seems to be a gap on your resume,
Does this mean you’ve been out of work?’
Far from it! Let me enlighten you, if I may.
I’ve had many roles in the last few months
All stressful, exhausting, under-appreciated but fun!
I’m a teacher of monsters, and a guard at the zoo,
A doctor – no really – a night nurse, and paramedic to name but a few
I regularly treat raw sewage,
I translate obscure language – some of it quite obscene,
I’m a wardrobe mistress, costume maker,
And I orchestrate playdates behind the scenes.
I’m a wiper of snot – believe it – and I invented ‘Mum Spit’ too
It cleans anything off faces, and rids hair of glue.
I’m a packer of lunches, a stylist of bunches,
A storyteller and actor, the troll under the bridge
A playdough and macaroni sculptor,
And art curator for the gallery on the fridge.
I council victims of trauma specialising in monsters under the bed,
I perform Dolly search and rescue
And make sure the goldfish are fed.
I tutor swimming and drumming and regularly work nights
I’m a dietician, musician and diplomat during fights
I’m also a courier and taxi service
And do guided tours of the park
An all-round entertainer, I know Dora the Explorer by heart
But I’m not infallable, and often feel guilty
About chocolate cereal, disposable nappies and too much TV
Guilty I am, exhausted but never glum,
What’s that you ask? My job title?
Well, you can just call me MUM.