hathycol: (Default)
Today I got put onto monthly set pay, i.e. A Real Person's Salary. This is mostly important as it means I GET SICK PAY. I've never had that before. It also comes with a very slight increase in money. I believe the technical term is 'wahey'?

I am celebrating with wine and watching all the exciting TV I've been able to download. Downton Abbey is a lot more fabulous than I had expected from an ITV drama, I'll tell you that much.

Oh, god, salary, renting a house and watching period drama SHIT I THINK THIS PUSHES ME INTO BEING A GROWN-UP.
hathycol: (job hunting)
Just been rejected for the last job from the last cycle of applying for jobs. I honestly shouldn't be surprised by this due to, you know, O HAI RECESSION. I still just feel gutted. I just want an interview. I feel this would be progress at this point. And I know that about ten people, on average, are applying for every job, and skilled jobs aren't exactly flowing in number at the moment, and graduates tend to fare badly in this sort of market, and I should consider myself lucky given that most people have already graduated and are still unemployed, but I still really feel this rejection.

After yesterday being my last day of DocSoc, after two weeks of eating soft food and another two weeks of it ahead of me, and a tortorously slow day of writing a plain godawful essay, it's sort of a bit like a kick to the teeth.

And believe me, I don't half fear kicks in the teeth at the moment.

I am now going to treat myself by giving up on the essay for today and going and making lasagne. Mmmm, lasagne. If you overcook it then it becomes suitably soft and therefore can fit in with my new and shiny diet plan from hell.

I'm going to watch The Apprentice tonight and either cry brokenly or laugh with glee as someone else fucks up job applications. At least they made it to interview. Tomorrow, I will get up and I will get back on the horse of job applications. For now, though, I'm going to eat lasagne and watch Hollyoaks.

AND Fern Britten has quit This Morning. What on earth am I meant to get out of bed for now when I'm an unemployed scumbag leeching of the state?!

Oh, and what job application did I get rejected from? I told people it was the Health Department. They rejected me ages ago. I got rejected from MI6 this time round Yes, that MI6. At least the application I've currently got the furthest on is an interesting one!
hathycol: (job hunting)
What, I ask you, what is the point of preparing an immaculate and beautiful CV if none of the compaies you are applying for never bloody use it? Why do they all have special and unique application forms, many of which involve writing exercises, one of which is notably about Jeremy Clarkson, of all things.

I got paid today. That was quite exciting and meant I could go and do my food shopping, amongst other things. However, the amount I got paid made me realise how much I dearly look forward to the days in the future (oh, god, hopefully) when I will be earning a full time wage that doesn't have the phrase 'nat. min. wage' in the application form. And, you know, I can cook a meal with chicken in it more than once every two weeks. Truly, I have some fabulous expectations in life...!
hathycol: (job hunting)
I have spent all day searching for a job. I now have a lot of things saved under favourites and a fairly large headache. I am now accepting I'm not going to get a graduate post. I'm mostly keeping my fingers crossed I can work in a non-graduate job in a company I actually want to work for and hopefully move up in the ladder, and also hoping I can go with Plan A which involves moving to London. I am highly educated, motivated, and generally a bit awesome. Surely someone will take pity?

Tomorrow: pretending I am good ad administration, despite never having worked in an office before. Erk.

... I'm going to go and eat risotto now. Yum, leftovers.
hathycol: (angry eowyn)
Today I hauled myself out of bed super-early for Christmas Ball tickets. Four hours in the cold later I had tickets, which is jolly good except for the fact I'm still cold now. No one passed out, although I did spend the entire four hours with one scarf around my head and my Jayne hat perched on top in a sort of jaunty angle.

Came home, ate lunch, prepared myself thoroughly, and sat down to deal with some online stuff for FastStream. I was good in the practice test at the verbal reasoning, and I was shite at the maths. I had maths lessons to make up for it and everything. So I went and sat down and did it, and I fell completely to pieces during the verbal reasoning and the maths I could actually do when I sat down and thought about it logically but in twenty-five minutes I only did about eight questions, and my rubbish verbal reasoning isn't going to make up for that. My results are 'pending' and I will know mid-December if I can, you know, submit an application form. OH LUCKY ME. I don't know why I'm bothering, I'm completely underqualified and bloody thick at anything useful anyway. I hope the maths for the less-good bits of civil service is less hard. Stupid ambitions. I've never even had a job in an office, for goodness sake, I'd probably never cope in the Home Office.

I have to write 1000 words for my essay today to keep me on track, but I also have DocSoc this evening and Muppet Christmas Carol afterwards and I just want to go back to bed and try not to contemplate that I am unprepared for the job market and also, you know, I am now both physically and mentally exhausted. Instead of doing either of these things I am wailing on LJ.

Fuck it, I am going back to bed. I probably should have power-napped before, you know, taking a test that determines my future. I was awake before I sat down to take it. At least my essay might be half decent?

[eta: computer crashed, won't turn back on, obviously I hadn't yet backed up either my essay or my dissertation. In library having breakdown trying very hard not to cry.]
hathycol: (jack and donna)
Firstly: back still not healed. Apparently hauling library books and the Student Bag Deal from the greengrocers sends the whole thing into impressive spasms. Painkillers have taken the edge off it, but this promises to be another DocSoc evening that I'm mixing painkillers and alcohol. WAHEY.

Anyway. All that aside, I have survived my last Raisin Weekend. In the end, I swapped a daughter for another one (basically, one didn't turn up which was great for my late adoptee) and ended up with a fairly rocking party. As I was in the house by myself for all my preparations, I felt thoroughly domestic as rocked around to music and put things in the oven and made a cheese and pineapple hedgehog. (I'd spent the night before watching 'Einstein and Eddington' and alternating between weeping my eyes out at the sad bits and cleaning.) Then I got the fear that no one would turn up.

Fortunately, they did, after a few phone calls of "where the hell do you live?" We then processed to drink for about ten hours, which itermittent bits of food and mental party games, and eventually going out to the pub. ACE.

The morning afterwards was bloody tricky, I'll be the first to admit. My plan was to feed them and dress them up; mostly I fed them toast and coffee ('please god more coffee mum') and then dressed them up as burglars. Richie then gave them their Raisin Receipt - K-9 - and we dragged them through the freezing cold town. I must admit, it was bizarre to be the one not dresed up stupidly and carrying stuff, although at least I was still hungover.

Anyway, I basically won at kiddy parties. WAHEY. There'll be photos up soonish, honestly.

The rest of the week has been quiet, and this evening I will be hauling myself on a DocSoc pub crawl, which should be fun if my back behaves. I am then flinging myself into a combination of essay research, maths lessons (civil service applications, not good; I haven't studied maths for five years and you can tell, I got 3/15 on the practice session) and dissertation writing. GOOD-O.
hathycol: (job hunting)
Today I have successfully got through the first stage of a graduate scheme I quite fancy. It cheerfully informed me my test results were in the top 45%, which is pretty good considering it involved maths and at one point me clutching my head and howling about how I hated fuckng percentages. Anyway. There are about eight stages, so my hopes are not up, but hey ho. I feel like those people do in X Factor when they go running out of the double doors and hug Dermot O'Leary. I went to do my laundry instead. Such is life.

I have also put pen to paper (metaphorically) with my dissertation. This is really frightening.

Of course, I also spent all day yesterday sorting out Raisin costumes for my six (six!) children, which involved painting t-shirts and making masks with a look of concentration more suitable for a six year old. The results are similar to what a six year old might manage, so there we are. And this weekend involves an old fashioned kids party (but with more vodka) so I suppose I'm not growing up just yet.
hathycol: (job hunting)
I am currently in the progress of looking up job application deadlines, as well as MLitt application deadlines. I am doing so sat in my work clothes because hey ho, guess what I'e been doing all day? (My rant re: Work And Why I Am Fed Up Of Being The Overtime Monkey is for a later date.) Just looking up the applications is pretty scary, actually; god knows what I'm going to be like when I'm actually writing them.

Then I'm going to drink wine and watch Children In Need ALL NIGHT because if I do pop up then I'm not being sober for it. Hurrah!
hathycol: (job hunting)
So, I'm going to see the careers centre people on Wednesday to learn about CVs and applications and then after that I'm officially applying for the civil service.

OH DEAR LORD. I also have to, you know, find out the closing dates for applying for teaching and for various postgraduate schemes, but let's just concentrate on the fact that I have finally made a definite decision about applying for stuff. I almost know I won't get in, but it's a good start, right?

In other news, my back is so much better that I'm debating doing my ironing, and I've removed my pillow from the sofa downstairs. Truly, I am having a rock and roll Saturday. Later on I may order takeaway and watch reality TV all night in an attempt to ignore the real world.


hathycol: (Default)

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