Mishaps of a job hunter
Before starting, a premise is necessary.
I belong to a category of ‘difficult’ wannabe workers. Woman, 43 y.o., for a thousand boring reasons my previous experience is fragmentary and discontinuous. Moreover, I live in a country, Italy, which has been in an economic crisis for years.
Not enough? Well, I am from the South, where any economic or social problem is multiplied by 100.
The thing is, I’m unemployed.
Despite everything in January 2020 it was almost as if the new year would finally bring me accomplishments and good news. I was in contact with Phil, the guy who, in all likelihood, would become my new boss in the wonderful land of Scandinavia, starting in June. In addition, I had found a part-time job to keep me busy until spring.
Then the pandemic came, together with the lock down, the fear and the dead. So many of them that here we were too busy being happy at least to be alive, to even worry about finding a job. Anyway, Phil called one day, to tell me that maybe we’d meet next year. No big surprise, it was impossible to travel anyway. By mutual agreement with my new Italian boss we decided to put everything in stand by for the time being, and wait till after the lock down. For those who may not know, this roughly translates to: see you in another life, girl.
My working future, which at a certain point almost looked like, if not a harbinger of wealth, at least satisfying and fulfilling, collapsed like a house of cards. So I did what I always do in these cases. I kept trying. I was a fan of smart working well before the pandemic, I dreamed of a future as a digital nomad in some tropical paradise, I am comfortable with everything computer related, so I said to myself, ok, after all it won’t change much for me. With the trust and the enthusiasm of a little girl I started camping on LinkedIn again, scrolling through job offers, sending resumes, motivational letters and so on.
What happened next?
Nothing.
Few were the answers I got, none of which had any real follow up after the first contact, when I was asked to answer long standardized questionnaires. I’m still not sure what was the point. Some basically just asked for the same information that were in my resume, others clearly tried to investigate my mental health. If I were crazy I probably wouldn’t know, and if I knew I wouldn’t write it in a test anyway.
Right? Right!
Taken by the desire to start again, to rebuild, with my mind stuffed by the slogans of politicians from all over the world (this is all Twitter’s fault), I had forgotten the most important factor: the problem is not the pandemic, the problem is me.
Covid-19 or 20 or whatever, I’m still the same old 43 y.o. woman from the South, with a fragmented working experience. Virtually not employable, according to the current market standards. My degree and other qualifications, plus the fact that I speak two languages fluently (and I am studying two more) make me unattractive on other markets as well, such as the janitors one, for example.
What do I do then?
I write and paint. Since the world began, artists are cheapskates, so at least in this category I don’t have to feel like a fish out of water.
I study, which has always been fundamental for me to keep my mind busy, to spend time constructively, and to lengthen my CV a bit more.
I wait for September because summer is low season in any case, for everything work related. By then I will have completed a new course and, more importantly, I hope with all my heart that I will have changed my mindset even more. This is something I’ve been working on very seriously. If the pandemic has brought me something good, on a personal level, that is the awareness that I have to get out of my comfort zone much more often and try things that my mind, until a few months ago, filed as impossible or unsuitable. For a thousand reasons, 999 of which are stupid.
Sometimes it’s do or die, but it’s not a bad thing.
I still read a lot of job offers, mind you, it is essential not to stop even when hiding in a corner and cry seems to be the only reasonable thing to do. I just have to laugh a bit every time I come across offers that, in the era of smart working, specify that this is not a remote job. This still happens in the majority of cases, by the way.
Everything has changed, but nothing has changed.
