'It's not personal it's business'
yes, more job hunt thoughts
I went back and forth on this. I’m aware that bleating on about jobs (though they are something baaaaaad, yes that’s a Wicked joke for free), isn’t THE most interesting thing to read about (trust me I’m bored of writing about it).
But it’s important for several reasons.
Firstly, people, specifically Men of the Internet, keep telling me not to. And if a Man of the Internet tells me not to do a thing, I’m sure as hell will do it. But also there’s a serious reason behind it. We’ll get to that. Here however, in no particular order, is a list of some recent job hunt fuckery I have encountered:
Being called at 4pm on a Sunday to tell me I hadn’t got a job. Then emailed. Then emailed again on Monday by the automated HR system.
Having a job offered, then withdrawn.
Being told by the above that sharing about job hunting being awful on social media was part of their grounds for retracting the offer.
Being told by the above that complaining about low pay in the charity sector was ground to retract the offer.
Being told by the above that working in the charity sector was ‘challenging’ and that we ‘can’t fix everything’ meant i wasn’t a suitable person to work in said sector (yes there’s a whole blog in that).
Having an interview switch mid-interview to Welsh, even though Welsh fluency wasn’t a criteria for the role.
Having an organisation I worked two years on a funding bid for, turn around and give the job in said bid, to someone who already worked there.
But who am I to complain right? it’s not personal, it’s just business. Toughen up and keep going. Honestly ,sure, to a degree I expect that from people at this point. Doesn’t mean it’s right, but I expect a low level of general fuckery around job hunting at this point.
But yesterady on a rain sodden November Day in Cardiff (is there any other kind) I walked past the coffee shop where I had the first meeting about that funding bid. Where I sat with someone I admired (past tense, unfortunately) who told me he wanted me for a project- a really special project, actually. He wanted my help to design it, to get funding for it and, of course, to do it. He said how much he valued my work, and how I would be the person for it. Walking past that coffee shop, my heart broke.
Because for the first time in my life, I felt like someone believed in me, wanted me, and wanted the skills and knowledge I’d worked for. I was valued for what I did, and brought to a role, a project. More importantly, someone wanted me for a project that mattered so much to me. Over two year,s that project came to mean so much to me. Both for the work itself, which I wholeheartedly believed was valuable. But also, someone wanted me; they picked me (pick me, choose me, love me…ok we all have our Meredith Grey moments sometimes). Because our work is personal, when we put ourselves into it that way. When we care. And yet, and yet…
And they took it away, so callously, so easily. They gave it to someone else. It didn’t matter; r it turned out, I wasn’t valued. My work and expertise weren’t ever actually valued. But more importantly, as a person, I wasn’t valued. And again, I expect that with general job fuckery. You people don’t know me, and you don’t owe me anything (except being a decent human,) But these were people I knew, I respected (again,n past tense now, regrettably) and people I desperately wanted to work with and do good work for.
Because that’s the thing with me, I’ve said it before if you have me, you have me. I’m loyal like a labrador, often a really stupid labrador. But I’ll work hard, I’ll go above and beyond, I’ll do it all. And I’ll be loyal. But so rarely is that returned. And again, I expect that from anonymous companies. But not from an LGBTQ+ organisation I had shown dedication to, volunteered for, supported, and above all created something for, in the word of getting something not for free, but that I’d worked for.
And it has broken my heart. Because anyone who knows me knows I’m passionate about my work. I’ve put profit, security and advancement behind doing work I’m passionate about my whole life. And I put two years into this and got tossed aside so callously, so thoughtlessly- if I hadn’t emailed to chase it up, I’d still be waiting to hear someone else was doing the job I got funding for. Or I’d have got an email newsletter announcing the success of the project I worked on but wordlessly, callously wasn’t going to be part of.
It’s an LGBTQ+ organisation, one that purports to support the community and develop its work. Am I not part of that community? Or am I perhaps not the right part of that community? Or is community only a concern when it’s convenient?
Either way, I gave that project my all. I waited on it for months, factoring my job search around it so I could do it, factoring in needing another job to afford it. Lessons learned as ever, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
It might be business but it’s also personal. That one was personal.
And what of the rest?
I mean, what’s to say other than employers right now have the power to treat people appallingly?
I’ve had about ten interviews now. I will say that I was successful in three of them. I turned down two for various practical reasons, and I got withdrawn. One (the 4 pm Sunday one) I would have turned down even if I’d got it, again for practical reasons/it not being the job for me. One I withdrew from post-interview (the Welsh Language one). So, that takes us down to five unsuccessful interviews in about as many months. Which as a batting average isn’t bad, I guess (Is it? I don’t understand sports enough to use that metaphor)
But I’m exhausted. And broken.
I hate the narrative that I’m ‘not helping myself’ by being publicly outspoken about bad interview/recruitment behaviour. Or that I should ‘behave’ more on social media. I have more work than I’ve lost through my social media. And drinking the Kool-Aid for a random fixed-term job is simply less important to me than maintaining my personal and political integrity. But also? I know I don’t know how to play the corporate game. I’ve never had the opportunity to learn, never had people around me- growing up, in education, a mentor, whatever, to learn. And maybe that means I’m doomed to never be a ‘success’ in the traditional sense. But als,o maybe ignorance is bliss; maybe I will just continue to, yes, be unapologetically myself online and take the hits for that because the wins historically have meant more.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not broken. Someone said to me today, ‘I didn’t think it had been that bad,’ and firstly, in what universe is job hunting for the best part of a year ‘not that bad’. Secondly,y I have not exactly been quiet about it being…less than fun. But also I don’t know how to explain to anyone blissfully in their ignorant employment bubble how hard it is. The inability to plan far ahead, because you don’t know what your job will be or if you’ll have one. Not being able to justify expenses, just in case. But also practicalities aside, the endless drip-drip of eroding confidence, self-esteem and value through constantly being told ‘you’re not good enough.’
I’m pretty fucking reliant; I’m a writer. I chose academia and theatre, and I’ve had more rejection than I care to think about. I’m an autistic Queer woman, I know what shitty treatment is. And I’m more broken and burned out than I’ve ever been. And I honestly don’t know how to pick myself up and continue.
That’s partly because you’re not allowed to stop all the other million and one things you must always do in these industries just because your main source of income has stopped. I’ve worked longer days in the past six months than I did in my job. Between writing books that once were alongside jobs, are now alongside days and days of job hunting. Side hustle freelance jobs have become a desperate hustle to compensate for the loss of a main job while trying to replace that. A 100 side projects that might turn into something alongside that. And don’t forget to keep up with theatre reviews, blogging and…oh, teaching and dramaturgy of other people’s work? And hours, days, and weeks of applications, and every time there’s an interview, there's a task, preparation, and time to interview before going on to the next. What do you mean you haven’t written a play in years? What about the other projects you said you’d do….what do you mean you haven’t found another job yet?
I’ve got nothing left, and yet there’s no choice. In all honesty, I’m desperate and yet too broken to start a new job. I’ve got no job, but I’m overwhelmed with work and not enough earnings to live. I need to take a break to finish this next book, but the fear of stopping long enough to do that and then not finding anything is paralysing. Yet I also barely have the energy to write this blog. Yet I was awake at four this morning worrying. Yet I’ll be told once again ‘not good enough’ for a job.
I don’t know how to explain to anyone not in it how bone-deep the sadness, embarrassment, shame, and exhaustion is. I get that everyone thinks I’m useless and stupid and that the problem must be me (and my complaining about it). But I also don’t know how else to say I’ve tried…I’ve tried so hard. To be better, to do whatever is asked of me.
I was stupid and I believed people who said that they wanted me, who said there’d be a job for me. I wish I hadn’t done that. I wish I had whatever it is that other people want. I wish I was good enough for… whatever. But I also wish people understood how hard I was trying. How hard I’ve been trying.
I’ve survived a lot professionally I got through a PhD, and again I’ve worked in the arts. But truly nothing has run me into the ground like this.
‘It’s not you it’s just tough out there’. I know, believe m, I know.
But also that reminds me of a quote from my favourite film ‘You’ve Got Mail’
‘What is that supposed to mean? I am so sick of that. All that means is that it wasn't personal to you. But it was personal to me. It's personal to a lot of people.’
It’s easy to say ‘it’ll be fine’ or ‘don’t take it personally’ or ‘it’s just tough’...it is, but when it’s your life being ground into the ground…it’s personal. It’s hard.