A couple of weeks ago, I’d almost resigned myself to the idea of being unemployed forever. Despite the cringingly chipper emails that would ping into my inbox from recruitment companies advising me to ‘Keep on, keeping on’ and to ‘Hang in there’, I couldn’t ignore the fact that unemployment in the journalism industry remains a real and ugly problem, and if folk with ten times the experience I have were finding it tough, what hope was there for me?
Things became particularly frustrating when I noticed posts I’d previously applied for being re-advertised (‘You should have picked meeee!’ I’d scream at my laptop), and on one occasion I received a ‘thanks but no thanks’ email from one company, informing me that they’d already filled the position. And lo…onto Twitter and there it was, being advertised not half an hour after they’d OUTRIGHT LIED TO ME. The worst thing? This was one of the most respected B2B publishing companies in the UK. Safe to say I was deep into the sea of unemployment apathy.
But then, a break in the clouds. An interview. A call back. And then, while stood in the middle of London’s Carnaby Street trying not to die from flu, a phone call – accompanied by a chorus of angels and a beam of golden sunlight from the heavens – to say I’d got the job. I’D GOT THE JOB.
I start on Monday.
Alas, it’s only for maternity cover, but given the current climate – and considering how close I was to lackeying for free just for the sake of my CV – I am literally overjoyed.
So, the strap line of my header (above) will get the boot, and in my next post we can all pretend that this hideous episode never happened.
Let’s see what the situation’s like in nine months time….eep.