So this week has been an awfully busy week considoring my severe lack of paid work. Having completed my time at the charity last week I was left with nothing to do. However, with the optimistic idea that 'experience on the cv will lead to a job' in my mind I decided to hunt for something to do. I have recently decided that PR isn't fulfilling me enough...by this I mean it is not fully-filling my wallet...in fact traveling to my many unpaid work placements is actually emptying it. I have decided that I need to add a political atmosphere to my 'slave labour'. Lets face it, if your going to be working for free you might as well be trying to do something you care about. That was my problem with unpaid internships at Consumer PR agencies...I just struggle to care about the fact that I managed to get an upcoming blockbuster film a spread in a newspaper. It hasn't changed the world in any way what-so-ever. So I decided that Politics would instil this passion in me. I applied to many roles on www.w4mp.org these roles ranged from public affairs consultancies, to joining campaign teams, and finally I decided to be a three month intern at a charitable think tank. I am hoping in this role I can do some good. So far...not so much luck. I started on Thursday. My lack of a political partisan view meant that I really didn't care enough to go out handing out fliers to people on the street saying "Vote for John Smith", when really people would much rather 'Vote for John and Edward' and to be honest at times so would I.
So I went for the Think Tank. This role seems like there might be some opportunity. It is a small organisation, I am 1 of 4 people. Which to me suggests that I am actually covering roles they can't afford to pay people for. Again, I am doing a job that some one else is probably being paid for. Actually, I say probably...I mean definitely, the women I am working directly with is doing exactly the same as me. We are doing the same work with the same responsibility. Difference is...she gets paid! As you can tell I am not a happy bunny. Made less happy by the fact that I am almost definitely better than her at it. Considering she did exactly the same project last year you would have thought she would be able to do it in her sleep. But apparently not. To be fair, she can do the job. It is not that I am better than her...it's more that she is worse than me. We have been given a spreadsheet of contact details that we have to work down in order to book people for our upcoming event. As we go down the spreadsheet we are colour coding it. This makes sense, it allows us to see what we have done already so we don't over-lap ourselves. However, problems arose when it turned out that the Manchester Office (we are based in London) has already done some of it and had started the colour coding. Now for me the obvious colours that you code anything with are Red, Green and Orange - stop, start and pending. The Manchester office did not use these...but thats fine we can use their codes - or so I thought. The girl I work with decided this was not fine with her. She wanted to change the coding. I also don't have a problem with this, as long as we all understand the coding their is no problem. Especially if she had have changed it to red, green and orange. However she didn't. Upon my inspection I had to query something, "There are two blues here?" Why would there be two different kind of blues...how could this be helpful...to be fair, maybe she had just clicked the wrong shade of blue, it happens...nope. "Yeah, I didn't like their blue so I chose a prettier one." A Prettier one? what!? Who cares if it is pretty it is a spreadsheet...but thats fine, surely they mean the same thing...right? "Oh but they mean the same?" Surely they did, you'd have to be a fool to use two different blues to mean two different things on the same spreadsheet. "No...the periwinkle blue is for people we have rang, the other blue is for those that need phoning." Now not only did she just say the term 'periwinkle blue' with no reference to Snatch at all...in fact I have reason to believe she has never even seen Snatch (the posh bitch)...but I in all honestly did not know which one was periwinkle blue, and nor could I care. All I knew that this was no longer colour coding, this was just colouring in. I don't mind working for free if it is going to help me (though it is starting to get on my tits), and I don't mind doing hard work for free, if it's going to help me (though it is starting to get on my tits), but I have a serious problem with people making my work harder than it should be when they're being paid and I am not (that is seriously already on my tits!). My only response was that I would not be touching any that are coloured blue, she can deal with them. They are no longer my problem. I have brushed my hands clean of the blues!
I do not know how I am going to last the next three months. Not being funny I have so little in common with these people. I know I am about as middle-class as they come, but come on...these people are beyond posh. They think risque humour is mocking David Dimblebey being hit by a bullock. If I happen to make a joke that might reference say the holocaust, old man senility or even a jovial reference to the act of intimacy that is making love. They do not laugh. They do not join in. They don't even cringe. They feel sorry for the butt of the joke. Who has that reaction? It's a joke...laugh, be shocked...do something! If things carry on as they are I don't know what I am going to die of first...poverty or boredom!
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Muggings, Internships & Boredom
So it has been a long time, it has also been eventful. I have completed two internships. Well one two week one in a PR Company...and then a went back to the charity for a week. My lack of paid employment is starting to really de-motivate me. Not only did I go back to the charity to work for free...but I was covering my old boss...doing her job, for free...and her boss...the only other person in the department, was ill for three days...so for three days I was running the department...for free! Sounds fair don't you think.
Anyway that was last week. The week before I was interning in a very good pr agency. This was a really good internship. I learnt lots and got to actually do some work. I even went to the pub with them a couple of times. I tell you what...it must be a bloody stressful job...because no joke they all smoke. I literally felt like I was in an Auschwitz gas chamber I was surrounded by so much smoke.
Tomorrow I am moving to yet another internship...unpaid! this time three months! hell yes does it get better than that! Can you see me getting more cynical? This one is actually a bit more politics related...which is my degree. I have decided to put it towards some use by helping organise events for a political charity/think tank.
Moving on from jobs on to a more happy topic...I was recently mugged. That wasn't irony...it actually was a better experience than my constant slave labour. Me and my ladychum were returning from a joyous Halloween evening, 5am we missed out stop and ended up in stratford...bad place. A man then came at us with a broken beer bottle and threatened us until we gave him her bag and my wallet and phone. Bugger. Now some of you more manly men may be suggesting I should have fought him off. Sadly at the time I wasn't feeling my most intimidating. After all I had just woken up after having fallen asleep on the bus...hence missing the stop. I was also absolutely sloshed. And finally, I was still in my costume. I had gone as John McEnroe. I was wearing short white shorts, a white polo and a wig with a headband. It is safe to say I was not the scariest man around. My ladychum was basically wearing normal clothes except with horns on her dead...she was supposedly the devil. The police made the whole night that much more interesting with their racist ways. Without any description having been given they asked "so what did this black guy look like?" Our response, "We never said he was black...he was white." Was received by much shock from them. After having been mugged we walked to a nearby hotel in order to use their phone. The receptionist, an asian man, suggested the reason for our mugging might be "too many blacks in this area." Our retort of, "well this guy was white so probably not." Was again received with much shock.
Other than these intriguing events I am becoming ridiculously disillusioned with my whole situation. It really is no fun at all. I need a job soon...or at least something exciting to happen. I feel like im just floating through life in a state of poverty. My dad described my life as a 'riches to rags story'...sad times.
Anyway that was last week. The week before I was interning in a very good pr agency. This was a really good internship. I learnt lots and got to actually do some work. I even went to the pub with them a couple of times. I tell you what...it must be a bloody stressful job...because no joke they all smoke. I literally felt like I was in an Auschwitz gas chamber I was surrounded by so much smoke.
Tomorrow I am moving to yet another internship...unpaid! this time three months! hell yes does it get better than that! Can you see me getting more cynical? This one is actually a bit more politics related...which is my degree. I have decided to put it towards some use by helping organise events for a political charity/think tank.
Moving on from jobs on to a more happy topic...I was recently mugged. That wasn't irony...it actually was a better experience than my constant slave labour. Me and my ladychum were returning from a joyous Halloween evening, 5am we missed out stop and ended up in stratford...bad place. A man then came at us with a broken beer bottle and threatened us until we gave him her bag and my wallet and phone. Bugger. Now some of you more manly men may be suggesting I should have fought him off. Sadly at the time I wasn't feeling my most intimidating. After all I had just woken up after having fallen asleep on the bus...hence missing the stop. I was also absolutely sloshed. And finally, I was still in my costume. I had gone as John McEnroe. I was wearing short white shorts, a white polo and a wig with a headband. It is safe to say I was not the scariest man around. My ladychum was basically wearing normal clothes except with horns on her dead...she was supposedly the devil. The police made the whole night that much more interesting with their racist ways. Without any description having been given they asked "so what did this black guy look like?" Our response, "We never said he was black...he was white." Was received by much shock from them. After having been mugged we walked to a nearby hotel in order to use their phone. The receptionist, an asian man, suggested the reason for our mugging might be "too many blacks in this area." Our retort of, "well this guy was white so probably not." Was again received with much shock.
Other than these intriguing events I am becoming ridiculously disillusioned with my whole situation. It really is no fun at all. I need a job soon...or at least something exciting to happen. I feel like im just floating through life in a state of poverty. My dad described my life as a 'riches to rags story'...sad times.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Another one bites the dust...
So this week I finished yet another internship. I am now no longer an unpaid worker...I am now just unpaid. Now come on! I never thought I would look upon the slavery on interning and miss it. In hindsight I actually really loved my last internship. The people were legends...and some weren't bad on the eyes...but generally the work was all common sense, plus working in charities is a total doss. The invention of "wine o'clock" has to be my favourite thing ever! It basically means that on a Friday at 4:00, everyone stops working, and starts mingling whilst enjoying a glass of cheap wine. Its pure genius. Good for morale I think. However, alas I missed last weeks wine o'clock, which would have been my final one amongst my new friends. Instead I finished work their on Thursday. I got a few people down the pub for some after work farewell drinks...which was very enjoyable...a few of them I will look to keep in touch with...some I will keep in touch with if they are a huge success and the possibility of a job arises. The reason I had to miss Friday and the splendors of wine o'clock is that I had a job 'trial' that day. By the way can you tell by my consistent mentioning of it that I am a huge fan of wine o'clock. Anyway, on Friday I had this job 'trial', which essentially means that I passed the interview phase. Woohoo! First time that has happened. My hopes were up! I then had to go to try doing the job for a day. The job was ppc marketing (Pay Per Click), basically their the annoying wankers that put people in the sponsored links bit of google. The job seemed fairly easy, it was all on excel, and I did feel a little bit like a tard being taught excel at school, which is how I spent most of my IT lessons at school feeling. But still I feel like I could have done this job. I am honestly not being big headed here, the job has a seven week training programme (unpaid of course)...in seven weeks I could get a monkey doing this job. So I could definitely do it. However, they decided they didn't want someone who could do the job in seven weeks. They decided they wanted someone who could do it now...with seven weeks free work. Not being funny, whats the point of a training programme if your just going to have someone that can already do the job. Just give them the job...or let me train! I hate companies, I actually do...I understand its recession and all, but come on...stop squeezing every penny by making us work for free in jobs we can do! Anyway, so I am clearly fairly bitter about this. Its not that I didn't get the job, I didn't massively want it (as all rejected people say), it was a bit too excel heavy for my liking. The thing that really pisses me off is that I cancel work experience at one of the top pr companies in London for the job I didn't get. Yes I know its more unpaid work experience and after all my moaning it seems odd that I would volunteer for more, but not being funny you gotta play the system as much as it plays you. So I lined up this quality work experience at a high profile London PR company. But then this job came, I passed the interview, the trial day was on the Friday, the job started on the Monday - the work experience started on the monday also. If I got the job I would have to cancel the work experience. I couldn't wait to hear about the job after the trial, nobody would be left in the PR agency to tell I wasn't coming in on the monday. They would arrive monday morning to a voicemail from me saying something like: "hi, its erm..."_____" I am erm...meant to be start..erm...work experience on monday, but I have got a better erm...offer...its paid...hope we can erm...work together in the future...bye" Yeah not the best message ever, I've always sucked on voicemails
(N.B. This one time I phoned my ex-girlfriend, 'J', on her birthday, it went through to voicemail, I was in America at the time in a hotel room with my current girlfriend, 'S', - my message transcript read - "Hi s-erm-j, shit!" Nice Birthday message right?)
So yeah I decided that rather them arriving in the morning to my failed attempt at a friendly voice-mail telling them that I would not be coming in, ever, that I should cancel before - I assumed I would sail the trial. So I did just that. Now that I failed the trial I now had nothing to do this Monday. Luckily, the PR agency - being the class act they are - let me work a different two weeks. So on the 26th October I will be starting another two weeks on slavery/interning. Brilliant!
On the plus side my middle-class status has meant that fun can still be had during these worries. Luckily when you are middle-class you generally know other middle-class people. These people will often pay your way out of misery. So with a few financial boosts (working it banking style!!) I was able to enjoy a damn good weekend. It was my brothers birthday. I used this fact to get rather merry. On Friday, his actual birthday, we hit up our very middle-class home town of Canterbury. I wouldn't say we painted the town red...we painted it all kinds of colours...the main colour we painted it in was the colour of heck...that's right...we raised heck! We enjoyed a few drinks, and a few shots, and then some more drink. I enjoyed the sight of girls who clearly have enough money to eat...there fat thighs definitely told that story. How did I enjoy that sight you ask? Well I enjoyed it because Canterbury seems to have managed to gain itself quite the selection of slaggy gals since I moved to London. The ones I am thinking of had, yes rather big thighs...but rather large breasts to go with them, and they were wearing dresses that extenuated their rather large breasts. These dresses also seemed to cling on to their rotund arses for dear life...in fact only just covering them, so much so that whenever they sat down you could easily see the top of their tights...and wen they bent over...Full Monty Baby!! So it was fun mocking them and slightly perving yes I will admit...and then I shook my thing to some Jackson 5 chooons...good shizzle! Quality night all in all! Problem was, 8.45 the next morning...I was directing my family to a paintballing site. I claimed to know the way, I went two months ago, surely I remembered the way! I did not! I not only took us the wrong way, but when someone suggested we go a different way (the right way) I told them they were wrong and it was definitely not that way - "Anyway but that way I am sure of that" - I can be very stupid. So yes we were late to paintballing, and then it turns out being shot, a lot, if paintballs isn't the best hangover cure. Hiding is. I would recommend hiding if you find yourself very hungover in a war-zone. In fact if you can find such a good hiding place that you can catch a few minutes sleep undetected than you are having a very good hungover paintballing session. I was not so lucky and I was shot, a lot, and it hurt! This was not the best hungover cure...I know people say that fresh air cures everything...but no...in this case those woods were not the place I wanted to be. However, I survived. I made sure I text my friend at Sandhurst and told him that I now knew what he had to expect in Afghan and if I could do it hungover he should be fine. These larks were then followed by a round in the casino. Now given my unemployed state...should I be in a casino...no! I lost 20quid of money that I just don't really have. Never good! So I guess will have to be tight on the shopping this week! Such a berk!
(N.B. This one time I phoned my ex-girlfriend, 'J', on her birthday, it went through to voicemail, I was in America at the time in a hotel room with my current girlfriend, 'S', - my message transcript read - "Hi s-erm-j, shit!" Nice Birthday message right?)
So yeah I decided that rather them arriving in the morning to my failed attempt at a friendly voice-mail telling them that I would not be coming in, ever, that I should cancel before - I assumed I would sail the trial. So I did just that. Now that I failed the trial I now had nothing to do this Monday. Luckily, the PR agency - being the class act they are - let me work a different two weeks. So on the 26th October I will be starting another two weeks on slavery/interning. Brilliant!
On the plus side my middle-class status has meant that fun can still be had during these worries. Luckily when you are middle-class you generally know other middle-class people. These people will often pay your way out of misery. So with a few financial boosts (working it banking style!!) I was able to enjoy a damn good weekend. It was my brothers birthday. I used this fact to get rather merry. On Friday, his actual birthday, we hit up our very middle-class home town of Canterbury. I wouldn't say we painted the town red...we painted it all kinds of colours...the main colour we painted it in was the colour of heck...that's right...we raised heck! We enjoyed a few drinks, and a few shots, and then some more drink. I enjoyed the sight of girls who clearly have enough money to eat...there fat thighs definitely told that story. How did I enjoy that sight you ask? Well I enjoyed it because Canterbury seems to have managed to gain itself quite the selection of slaggy gals since I moved to London. The ones I am thinking of had, yes rather big thighs...but rather large breasts to go with them, and they were wearing dresses that extenuated their rather large breasts. These dresses also seemed to cling on to their rotund arses for dear life...in fact only just covering them, so much so that whenever they sat down you could easily see the top of their tights...and wen they bent over...Full Monty Baby!! So it was fun mocking them and slightly perving yes I will admit...and then I shook my thing to some Jackson 5 chooons...good shizzle! Quality night all in all! Problem was, 8.45 the next morning...I was directing my family to a paintballing site. I claimed to know the way, I went two months ago, surely I remembered the way! I did not! I not only took us the wrong way, but when someone suggested we go a different way (the right way) I told them they were wrong and it was definitely not that way - "Anyway but that way I am sure of that" - I can be very stupid. So yes we were late to paintballing, and then it turns out being shot, a lot, if paintballs isn't the best hangover cure. Hiding is. I would recommend hiding if you find yourself very hungover in a war-zone. In fact if you can find such a good hiding place that you can catch a few minutes sleep undetected than you are having a very good hungover paintballing session. I was not so lucky and I was shot, a lot, and it hurt! This was not the best hungover cure...I know people say that fresh air cures everything...but no...in this case those woods were not the place I wanted to be. However, I survived. I made sure I text my friend at Sandhurst and told him that I now knew what he had to expect in Afghan and if I could do it hungover he should be fine. These larks were then followed by a round in the casino. Now given my unemployed state...should I be in a casino...no! I lost 20quid of money that I just don't really have. Never good! So I guess will have to be tight on the shopping this week! Such a berk!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
My Quarter Life Crisis
I am in the midst of a meltdown. I have recently moved in with my girlfriend, who I love a lot. I have just received my Bachelors in Politics from a university that is more often than not found within the Top 25 in the country. I have just got back from visiting one of my best mates in France where I drank all night and sunbathed all day, except occasionally popping into the odd art gallery to appreciate the works of Picasso. I am about to go insane!
It all started a few weeks ago, I was reading Friends Like These by Danny Wallace, a hilarious book by the way, when I suddenly realized that I was spinning towards maturity. I am dangerously close to it! My carefree student days are behind me. I am now welcoming the careful career days. These days seem no fun. Now I might not be employed yet, so I shouldn't really get ahead of myself on the crisis front...but I am still looking for a job that will be my future career. It will be what I do until I am 65! I am only 21, that's 44 years (assuming my maths is right). Not being funny deciding what you will spend 5 days a week for the next 44 years is quite the scary thing. For the last 3 years I have been living it easy. There were times at uni where I did 8 hours a week! That is ridiculous! I literally could do what ever I wanted to do...I could get pissed on a Wednesday night (and I did, a lot) and then go to lecture at 9am (or not go) and not care about the consequence because I had the blagging skills to get a 2:1 in Politics no matter what happened. I think it is fair to say that heading towards your first career job, is heading towards maturity. Heading towards maturity is definitely a reason to be heading towards crisis!
As I mentioned before I have also moved in with my 'ladychum'. Me and me lassy have shacked up. We are in a flat in London, living together. Now I wasn't bothered by this. I thought "oh well, tra la la, we hang out all the time and we get along like best mates, why not move in together...who better to live with!" I thought like that until I started telling people I was moving in with my ladychum. Everytime I would tell people they would pull one of two faces. Firstly, there was the "ooo that's scary" face...which essentially looked like they were trying to whistle whilst doing a massive dumb. Secondly, was the "how are you going to get out of that one" face...which looked shockingly similar to a deer caught in the headlights. Now I was not a deer, I was in no headlights...until I started to get these reactions. Then I was definitely in headlights. But I was still a man! And therefore not a deer! This meant that I was still going to have a showdown with the headlights and god dammit I was going to win and end up on the happier side of the headlights (not sure that analogy works at all but basically I was still rather happy to be moving in wit the lady despite the niggling worries that had been put upon me). However, recently a young women told me off her 'countdown theory'. This was the scariest theory I have ever heard...and I studied communism for the last three years of my life! She told me that because I now live with my ladychum, I now have three years to propose or I am a goner. Brilliant! Not being funny, I am perfectly happily with the thought of spending the rest of my life with this lady, she is immense, I am just not sure I am going to want to commit to it in three years time. I probably would if I have a job, a decent one, at that point but that looks less likely to happen every bloody day. As soon as she said that my eyes widened...I breathed in deep...I had a face that suggested "how are you going to get out of that one!"...I was officially a deer!
Now there is no way you can tell me that making that move, turning on the three year ticking bomb, was not a massive step towards that bloody scary thing that is maturity! I was not trying to embark on a career, whilst living with my girlfriend...I was not a carefree student...I was the dreaded three words...A MATURE ADULT.
Luckily, despite my severe want for money (which in turn leads me to wanting a job), people seemingly don't want to employ me. That's not entirely true...I can easily find employment, people will happily let me work for them...they just don't want to pay me to do so. That's right, I am stupidly working 9-5 (or 10-6) for no money. I am one of the many people at the moment that have graduated and now cannot find paid work. Therefore, like me, many of the class of 2009 are working for free in 'work placements' or 'internships', which basically means companies can't afford to recruit students so they are getting us to do it for free. Its actually all very clever...we are under the illusion that we need 'work experience' to get a job, and therefore we will happily take any unpaid work, as long as it is in an office and vaguely similar to what we want to do. The companies know that they can't afford to hire grads who they might spend time training and then might just bugger off...but they know that if they say that graduates need 'work experience' in order to get a job then they can get us to do a job for no pay. That way they can function at the same rate, whilst making people redundant, and still covering the work through loads of 'interns'. I am starting to believe that this whole "work experience is required" thing is just yet another way to keep the rich, rich. Lets face it 30 years ago in order to get a high paying job or become one of the countries elite you had to go to university. In order to do that you had to be uber rich, and generally a man. However, now loads of people go to university...if the rules stayed the same the poor would have the same opportunity as the rich, this would mean that poor people could become powerful and displace the rich. That just can't happen now can it! So those rich gentlemen decided it would be best if they found a way to keep the newly educated poor (lower-middle class really) with no chance of climbing that ladder. Best way to do that is to decide that not only do they have to now have a degree to get a job, you now need work experience as well. This can be by-passed by being one sh*t-hot salesmen (Alan Sugar for example), but basically its a must these days to get a job. The genius thing is, they ain't gonna pay you to have that work experience. Basically, you now need to be able to afford to live without a job through A Levels, through Uni and now through months (to a year) of unpaid work experience. That means your parents have to be middle class, at least. Luckily for me, I come under that bracket! My parents are middle class...my dad has a very good job in human resources which earns him a fair few bob, and my mum is a teacher at a private school, not bad for a second salary. This means They have been able to afford to pay for me to live in London for the next year. That's right they are paying my rent, utilities and general living expenses until I get a job. And they are doing so whilst I occupy a flat in London with my girlfriend. She is in a very similar predicament, having also graduated this year (from a Uni that is fairly often found in the Top 10), and she is playing the work experience game as well. That's right, her parents are paying for her as well (well her grandparents but potato, potARto).
Yeah I know what your thinking..."oh woe is me!" I know I am fairly spoiled (very), and that it is hard to have sympathy for someone whose parents are paying for them to live in London. It is hard to have sympathy for a middle-class student with a degree. Well bugger off! It's hard having no money. I literally went to the bank today and was told I had nil to get out. I couldn't afford lunch. I am now working for free, without lunch! Jokes! I may have rent paid for me, I may have utilities paid for me, I may have council tax paid for me, I may have my shopping bought for me...but I have still got f*ck all in the old bank account. Not being funny I have spent the last three years drinking my liver into oblivion with the assumption that I would basically stroll into a job upon graduation. I am sure that there are many students that probably assume the same. To be honest current students might just get to jump on the upturn that will surely follow this downturn and jobs may be in abundance again. But right now the chances of getting a job are about the same as getting fellatio from a nun. So right now I am pretty much down in the dumps on the money front. I have always considered myself as a middle-class man, even during my studies, just because the prospect of a high wage was there. Hence the title of this blog. But seriously, I graduated in July, still no prospect of that high wage...can I really call myself working class now?
It all started a few weeks ago, I was reading Friends Like These by Danny Wallace, a hilarious book by the way, when I suddenly realized that I was spinning towards maturity. I am dangerously close to it! My carefree student days are behind me. I am now welcoming the careful career days. These days seem no fun. Now I might not be employed yet, so I shouldn't really get ahead of myself on the crisis front...but I am still looking for a job that will be my future career. It will be what I do until I am 65! I am only 21, that's 44 years (assuming my maths is right). Not being funny deciding what you will spend 5 days a week for the next 44 years is quite the scary thing. For the last 3 years I have been living it easy. There were times at uni where I did 8 hours a week! That is ridiculous! I literally could do what ever I wanted to do...I could get pissed on a Wednesday night (and I did, a lot) and then go to lecture at 9am (or not go) and not care about the consequence because I had the blagging skills to get a 2:1 in Politics no matter what happened. I think it is fair to say that heading towards your first career job, is heading towards maturity. Heading towards maturity is definitely a reason to be heading towards crisis!
As I mentioned before I have also moved in with my 'ladychum'. Me and me lassy have shacked up. We are in a flat in London, living together. Now I wasn't bothered by this. I thought "oh well, tra la la, we hang out all the time and we get along like best mates, why not move in together...who better to live with!" I thought like that until I started telling people I was moving in with my ladychum. Everytime I would tell people they would pull one of two faces. Firstly, there was the "ooo that's scary" face...which essentially looked like they were trying to whistle whilst doing a massive dumb. Secondly, was the "how are you going to get out of that one" face...which looked shockingly similar to a deer caught in the headlights. Now I was not a deer, I was in no headlights...until I started to get these reactions. Then I was definitely in headlights. But I was still a man! And therefore not a deer! This meant that I was still going to have a showdown with the headlights and god dammit I was going to win and end up on the happier side of the headlights (not sure that analogy works at all but basically I was still rather happy to be moving in wit the lady despite the niggling worries that had been put upon me). However, recently a young women told me off her 'countdown theory'. This was the scariest theory I have ever heard...and I studied communism for the last three years of my life! She told me that because I now live with my ladychum, I now have three years to propose or I am a goner. Brilliant! Not being funny, I am perfectly happily with the thought of spending the rest of my life with this lady, she is immense, I am just not sure I am going to want to commit to it in three years time. I probably would if I have a job, a decent one, at that point but that looks less likely to happen every bloody day. As soon as she said that my eyes widened...I breathed in deep...I had a face that suggested "how are you going to get out of that one!"...I was officially a deer!
Now there is no way you can tell me that making that move, turning on the three year ticking bomb, was not a massive step towards that bloody scary thing that is maturity! I was not trying to embark on a career, whilst living with my girlfriend...I was not a carefree student...I was the dreaded three words...A MATURE ADULT.
Luckily, despite my severe want for money (which in turn leads me to wanting a job), people seemingly don't want to employ me. That's not entirely true...I can easily find employment, people will happily let me work for them...they just don't want to pay me to do so. That's right, I am stupidly working 9-5 (or 10-6) for no money. I am one of the many people at the moment that have graduated and now cannot find paid work. Therefore, like me, many of the class of 2009 are working for free in 'work placements' or 'internships', which basically means companies can't afford to recruit students so they are getting us to do it for free. Its actually all very clever...we are under the illusion that we need 'work experience' to get a job, and therefore we will happily take any unpaid work, as long as it is in an office and vaguely similar to what we want to do. The companies know that they can't afford to hire grads who they might spend time training and then might just bugger off...but they know that if they say that graduates need 'work experience' in order to get a job then they can get us to do a job for no pay. That way they can function at the same rate, whilst making people redundant, and still covering the work through loads of 'interns'. I am starting to believe that this whole "work experience is required" thing is just yet another way to keep the rich, rich. Lets face it 30 years ago in order to get a high paying job or become one of the countries elite you had to go to university. In order to do that you had to be uber rich, and generally a man. However, now loads of people go to university...if the rules stayed the same the poor would have the same opportunity as the rich, this would mean that poor people could become powerful and displace the rich. That just can't happen now can it! So those rich gentlemen decided it would be best if they found a way to keep the newly educated poor (lower-middle class really) with no chance of climbing that ladder. Best way to do that is to decide that not only do they have to now have a degree to get a job, you now need work experience as well. This can be by-passed by being one sh*t-hot salesmen (Alan Sugar for example), but basically its a must these days to get a job. The genius thing is, they ain't gonna pay you to have that work experience. Basically, you now need to be able to afford to live without a job through A Levels, through Uni and now through months (to a year) of unpaid work experience. That means your parents have to be middle class, at least. Luckily for me, I come under that bracket! My parents are middle class...my dad has a very good job in human resources which earns him a fair few bob, and my mum is a teacher at a private school, not bad for a second salary. This means They have been able to afford to pay for me to live in London for the next year. That's right they are paying my rent, utilities and general living expenses until I get a job. And they are doing so whilst I occupy a flat in London with my girlfriend. She is in a very similar predicament, having also graduated this year (from a Uni that is fairly often found in the Top 10), and she is playing the work experience game as well. That's right, her parents are paying for her as well (well her grandparents but potato, potARto).
Yeah I know what your thinking..."oh woe is me!" I know I am fairly spoiled (very), and that it is hard to have sympathy for someone whose parents are paying for them to live in London. It is hard to have sympathy for a middle-class student with a degree. Well bugger off! It's hard having no money. I literally went to the bank today and was told I had nil to get out. I couldn't afford lunch. I am now working for free, without lunch! Jokes! I may have rent paid for me, I may have utilities paid for me, I may have council tax paid for me, I may have my shopping bought for me...but I have still got f*ck all in the old bank account. Not being funny I have spent the last three years drinking my liver into oblivion with the assumption that I would basically stroll into a job upon graduation. I am sure that there are many students that probably assume the same. To be honest current students might just get to jump on the upturn that will surely follow this downturn and jobs may be in abundance again. But right now the chances of getting a job are about the same as getting fellatio from a nun. So right now I am pretty much down in the dumps on the money front. I have always considered myself as a middle-class man, even during my studies, just because the prospect of a high wage was there. Hence the title of this blog. But seriously, I graduated in July, still no prospect of that high wage...can I really call myself working class now?
My Quarter Life Crisis
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I am in the midst of a meltdown. I have recently moved in with my girlfriend, who I love a lot. I have just received my Bachelors in Politics from a university that is more often than not found within the Top 25 in the country. I have just got back from visiting one of my best mates in France where I drank all night and sunbathed all day, except occasionally popping into the odd art gallery to appreciate the works of Picasso. I am about to go insane!
It all started a few weeks ago, I was reading Friends Like These by Danny Wallace, a hilarious book by the way, when I suddenly realized that I was spinning towards maturity. I am dangerously close to it! My carefree student days are behind me. I am now welcoming the careful career days. These days seem no fun. Now I might not be employed yet, so I shouldn't really get ahead of myself on the crisis front...but I am still looking for a job that will be my future career. It will be what I do until I am 65! I am only 21, that's 44 years (assuming my maths is right). Not being funny deciding what you will spend 5 days a week for the next 44 years is quite the scary thing. For the last 3 years I have been living it easy. There were times at uni where I did 8 hours a week! That is ridiculous! I literally could do what ever I wanted to do...I could get pissed on a Wednesday night (and I did, a lot) and then go to lecture at 9am (or not go) and not care about the consequence because I had the blagging skills to get a 2:1 in Politics no matter what happened. I think it is fair to say that heading towards your first career job, is heading towards maturity. Heading towards maturity is definitely a reason to be heading towards crisis!
As I mentioned before I have also moved in with my 'ladychum'. Me and me lassy have shacked up. We are in a flat in London, living together. Now I wasn't bothered by this. I thought "oh well, tra la la, we hang out all the time and we get along like best mates, why not move in together...who better to live with!" I thought like that until I started telling people I was moving in with my ladychum. Everytime I would tell people they would pull one of two faces. Firstly, there was the "ooo that's scary" face...which essentially looked like they were trying to whistle whilst doing a massive dumb. Secondly, was the "how are you going to get out of that one" face...which looked shockingly similar to a deer caught in the headlights. Now I was not a deer, I was in no headlights...until I started to get these reactions. Then I was definitely in headlights. But I was still a man! And therefore not a deer! This meant that I was still going to have a showdown with the headlights and god dammit I was going to win and end up on the happier side of the headlights (not sure that analogy works at all but basically I was still rather happy to be moving in wit the lady despite the niggling worries that had been put upon me). However, recently a young women told me off her 'countdown theory'. This was the scariest theory I have ever heard...and I studied communism for the last three years of my life! She told me that because I now live with my ladychum, I now have three years to propose or I am a goner. Brilliant! Not being funny, I am perfectly happily with the thought of spending the rest of my life with this lady, she is immense, I am just not sure I am going to want to commit to it in three years time. I probably would if I have a job, a decent one, at that point but that looks less likely to happen every bloody day. As soon as she said that my eyes widened...I breathed in deep...I had a face that suggested "how are you going to get out of that one!"...I was officially a deer!
Now there is no way you can tell me that making that move, turning on the three year ticking bomb, was not a massive step towards that bloody scary thing that is maturity! I was not trying to embark on a career, whilst living with my girlfriend...I was not a carefree student...I was the dreaded three words...A MATURE ADULT.
Luckily, despite my severe want for money (which in turn leads me to wanting a job), people seemingly don't want to employ me. That's not entirely true...I can easily find employment, people will happily let me work for them...they just don't want to pay me to do so. That's right, I am stupidly working 9-5 (or 10-6) for no money. I am one of the many people at the moment that have graduated and now cannot find paid work. Therefore, like me, many of the class of 2009 are working for free in 'work placements' or 'internships', which basically means companies can't afford to recruit students so they are getting us to do it for free. Its actually all very clever...we are under the illusion that we need 'work experience' to get a job, and therefore we will happily take any unpaid work, as long as it is in an office and vaguely similar to what we want to do. The companies know that they can't afford to hire grads who they might spend time training and then might just bugger off...but they know that if they say that graduates need 'work experience' in order to get a job then they can get us to do a job for no pay. That way they can function at the same rate, whilst making people redundant, and still covering the work through loads of 'interns'. I am starting to believe that this whole "work experience is required" thing is just yet another way to keep the rich, rich. Lets face it 30 years ago in order to get a high paying job or become one of the countries elite you had to go to university. In order to do that you had to be uber rich, and generally a man. However, now loads of people go to university...if the rules stayed the same the poor would have the same opportunity as the rich, this would mean that poor people could become powerful and displace the rich. That just can't happen now can it! So those rich gentlemen decided it would be best if they found a way to keep the newly educated poor (lower-middle class really) with no chance of climbing that ladder. Best way to do that is to decide that not only do they have to now have a degree to get a job, you now need work experience as well. This can be by-passed by being one sh*t-hot salesmen (Alan Sugar for example), but basically its a must these days to get a job. The genius thing is, they ain't gonna pay you to have that work experience. Basically, you now need to be able to afford to live without a job through A Levels, through Uni and now through months (to a year) of unpaid work experience. That means your parents have to be middle class, at least. Luckily for me, I come under that bracket! My parents are middle class...my dad has a very good job in human resources which earns him a fair few bob, and my mum is a teacher at a private school, not bad for a second salary. This means They have been able to afford to pay for me to live in London for the next year. That's right they are paying my rent, utilities and general living expenses until I get a job. And they are doing so whilst I occupy a flat in London with my girlfriend. She is in a very similar predicament, having also graduated this year (from a Uni that is fairly often found in the Top 10), and she is playing the work experience game as well. That's right, her parents are paying for her as well (well her grandparents but potato, potARto).
Yeah I know what your thinking..."oh woe is me!" I know I am fairly spoiled (very), and that it is hard to have sympathy for someone whose parents are paying for them to live in London. It is hard to have sympathy for a middle-class student with a degree. Well bugger off! It's hard having no money. I literally went to the bank today and was told I had nil to get out. I couldn't afford lunch. I am now working for free, without lunch! Jokes! I may have rent paid for me, I may have utilities paid for me, I may have council tax paid for me, I may have my shopping bought for me...but I have still got f*ck all in the old bank account. Not being funny I have spent the last three years drinking my liver into oblivion with the assumption that I would basically stroll into a job upon graduation. I am sure that there are many students that probably assume the same. To be honest current students might just get to jump on the upturn that will surely follow this downturn and jobs may be in abundance again. But right now the chances of getting a job are about the same as getting fellatio from a nun. So right now I am pretty much down in the dumps on the money front. I have always considered myself as a middle-class man, even during my studies, just because the prospect of a high wage was there. Hence the title of this blog. But seriously, I graduated in July, still no prospect of that high wage...can I really call myself working class now?
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