I can’t really say what masochistic impulse inspired me to do this, but just now I sat down and figured out how many days I’ve been without gainful employment. The answer is 46. That’s just over six weeks, which, when you’re a kid and on your summer holidays, seems like a lifetime. And when you’re sat within the same four walls day after day trawling through the same web pages you have saved in your bookmarks as ‘FML’, slowly being forced into one corner of your desk by an ever-increasing army of used mugs and bowls that once housed instant noodles, it seems like a lot longer than that, I’m telling you.
So, obviously I need to do something else – but what? Something that will indulge my creative side, while delivering some money (unlike freelancing, by the way. This video sums that up nicely). Luckily, it turns out there are innumerable creative jobs out there, most of which I’m already more than qualified for, mostly because I’m not a fuckwit. Behold:
Now I’m no Leonardo da Vinci, but I can sketch my way around a variety of basic shapes and stick men. I’m even down with watercolour pencils! So, imagine my surprise when, after countless hours spent slumped on the sofa on a Sunday afternoon watching Miami Ink, I learnt there’s absolutely no skill involved in this craft whatsoever. See? I could do that with my eyes closed. Literally.
Obviously I’m not talking about being a baker. That’s hot, sweaty, back-breaking work. Not for me thanks, I’m a creative type. I mean this kind of thing. Can you believe that’s a cake? And the best bit? After a lengthy discussion with a soon-to-be-married friend, it turns out that as soon as you stick the word ‘wedding’ in front of it, you can whack the price up ten-fold. Lots of cashmoney potential in this one, and it would seem that I already fulfil the basic entry level requirements, in that I have eyes and am not a five year old child, unlike this cake wizard.
HAIR AND MAKEUP ARTIST
I used to know a girl who was adamant she was going to go to ‘beauty school’. In the event she ended up doing a journalism degree is now probably walking the beaches of Falmouth fighting seagulls for chips, but I do remember wondering what sort of thing could be taught at beauty school. If you’re a girl, chances are you’ve been twiddling with your hair for years – certainly since it was long enough to get it irrevocably caught around your mother’s cylinder hairbrush – and we’ve all been there with the ill-advised make up judgements. Beauty school ain’t gonna prepare you for that.
I put on make up and style my hair every day, so I don’t see why I can’t do it for a living. Pretty sure I could a better job on Pammers than this, and hell, if you’ve got enough hairspray then this beautiful, feminine and practical hair style is a breeze. Give me a job, Max Factor.
Admittedly this one ‘s likely to be harder to crack because my name is not Olivia and I don’t have a rich Daddy to finance my half-arsed attempts at redecorating the boutique apartments of all my trendy Chelsea friends. However, if someone comes to me requesting their living room be transformed into an unsettling political nightmare of the Savannah, I’m pretty sure I’d be able to pull it off.