Job hunting is hard.
I can't imagine it's ever been particularly easy, but right now the odds are definitely not in my favour. I'm in competition with an average of forty applicants for every position I apply for, and the first class degree I earned in July means absolutely diddly squat to most employers without any actual work experience to go with it. It has been, and continues to be, a very frustrating situation, and after just over six months of unemployment I'm finding it hard to stay positive.
The most disheartening experience happened last Saturday. I'd responded to an ad for a local cafe and, despite admitting that I had no experience, I was invited along for a trial day to see how I went. I was so excited. I love that cafe, and I was so sure I was going to do well. The prospect of learning how to use an industrial coffee machine in front of paying customers was daunting, but I was confident in my ability to not be too much of an idiot and had been given the impression that the owners were prepared to train me up. More fool me.
I turned up early with a big smile and a stomach full of nerves. My first job was replenishing the milk supply, and that went off without a hitch. Then came time to make the staff their morning beverages, and I was walked through a grand total of two drinks before customers started trickling in and I had to help deal with them. Obviously, I still didn't know how to make various coffees without double-checking I was doing it right, and I didn't know the menu so it took me a while to price up orders. Once the customers started coming in, they didn't stop and the first hour flew by in a rush of stress and confusion. I was struggling, and it was showing. Then someone ordered a cappuccino and as the owner watched me steam the milk, I failed to check that the jug was hot enough by touching it (which no one at any point had told me to do), and this was apparently the final straw.
'You know what, this isn't for you,' he said, 'Go and help the girls with the clearing up instead.'
And with that, I was dismissed. To my horror, I realised that it was only 12 o'clock. I'd agreed to work until 5, and now had to get through to the end of the day with the stinging humiliation of knowing that I'd failed to impress. It was awful. All I could do was throw myself into the tasks I had been deemed capable of, and so I cleared tables, served tables, washed up and mopped up spillages until I was dizzy. I kept myself as busy as I possibly could without getting underfoot, because I was so mortified by my own ineptitude that I was desperate to prove I wasn't a total waste of space. There was also the tiny hope that if I worked hard enough I'd get a second chance, but that wasn't the case. They wanted someone to do the job immediately to their specifications, and I needed too much teaching.
I did get paid £50 for my work, and the owner said that even though he couldn't offer me a job as a server, he'd keep me in mind if he needed anyone to help out in the kitchen but honestly, I think he was just saying that. I'm ashamed to say that when I left, I was so disappointed and angry with myself for not being good enough that I cried the entire way home. It felt like a monumental set-back in my quest for employment, because who the hell wants to hire a girl too stupid to work in a cafe? It had taken me six months to get this close to a job - let alone a job I wanted - and I'd blown it. I was clearly useless and hopeless and doomed to be unemployed forever. I was absolutely pathetic.
Now, obviously, I've picked myself up since then and shaken off the drama-queen self-pity. My confidence is still pretty shaken but I'm getting there, because of course I'm not useless. Of course I'm not stupid for not picking it up quickly enough. They were expecting too much of me! My sister works in a pub that offers a range of coffees just as varied and complex as the ones in the cafe. Serving coffee is one tiny section of her job and her managers still set aside an entire day to teach staff how to do it, where they practiced until they got it right because it takes more than an hour and a half to master. It's not my fault that the cafe owners were either unwilling or unable to give me that time. It's not my fault that I didn't instinctively figure it out like I'd just plugged into the Matrix and downloaded the 'expert barista' programme. It's not my fault.
One day I am going to be successful in getting a job and I am going to thrive in it. I just have to keep trying, no matter how much it feels like I'm bashing my head against a brick wall. Failing at one thing does not means I'm a failure, and I'm going to be okay.
In the mean time, I'm going to be happy with my very first set of wages. That's a trip or two up to Colchester that I couldn't afford before :)
