At least she's not a lawyer

Back in the day of the Derby poetry circuit, I wrote a poem about being in love with a serial killer. Along with a (true) poem about my girlfriend who could see the future, I also wrote poems about Blockbuster video and Mystic Meg. The trouble was partly I started to get a reputation for being a bit of a "character", someone you'd think "oh good, who comes the shy kid who writes funny poems" but I also wrote poems with anger and pain and hurt. And I don't think people knew how to balance that. I remember when I announced I was going to read a poem called "It's my couch, my couch, don't they understand" and maybe I imagine it now, but I think people visibly relaxed and leaned back in the chairs for something quirky and funny.

Instead what they got was a poem I had no title for, about a girlfriend's rape and ending with the words "although it's not possible for you to feel the pain you caused, I'm going to try".

I read only that one poem that night, then walked back to my table in the dark to sit alone and drink.

Anyway, the point of this little story was meant to be about how I once wrote a poem about a serial killer -- which ended "at least she's not a lawyer". I remember when I first read it, someone suggested to me that I change the ending each time to a different job. I never did, but now I think if I ever 'do' live poetry again, I might be tempted to change it to "recruitment consultant".

It's a bit rich of me, really. All these people are doing is trying get me a job -- which is to do their job, and trying to market what they have to sell -- people. And like most marketing this involves bending the truth a little here or there, and I'm sure they get paid handsomely for it.

I just have an increasing dislike for them. They call me up, out of the blue, talking of jobs and wanting to send me along for them and how the employer is really interested. They tell me "just be yourself" along with "be really bubbly" and I think to myself that if I actually had a job I could afford the drugs to make me this person they want me to appear as. But it's not that part -- it's afterwards, when you don't get the job.

It's the struggling to get the consultant to return your phone calls, and when they do you can hear from their tone of voice what their news is. They always start with "they really liked you, but", a bit like when someone starts a sentence "I'm not racist, but..." and you know what you're about to hear would make Oswald Mosley blush.

What I resent is that the recruitment consultant always sounds pissed off at me -- presumably for losing them the however-many thousands in fees. They know with my experience and my passions, I should be perfect for the brand, so why the hell didn't I get it. "They said you seemed nervous" they tell me, almost accuse me, "Were you?"
Well, yeah. I wanted the job. I haven't worked in six months or more, it's getting increasingly desperate. I liked the company, liked the brands, wanted the job. Who the hell wouldn't be nervous?
They also said my examples of my leadership style were mostly taken from my previous job, rather than from my PR experience. I have been an intern for six months, what do I know about leading anyone in PR? What I was talking about were transferable skills, taking my skills and experiences in previous roles and applying them.

Just the same, I won't be getting a second interview and I guess my recruitment consultant will have to wait a bit long for that designer Burberry handbag. I'm told they would welcome me to reapply in 6 to 8 months, and who knows -- maybe I will. But it will be off my own back, and not through some consultant they have to pay. I'm tempted to even contact the company myself and tell them one interview shows nothing, let's skip the consultant and have another go.

Short of that, I had my second interview with my company today (third interview if you count the one I had about 4 months ago for a different position). Unfortunately, the advice given by my recruitment consultant came several hours too late for this -- but maybe I got this one.

We did talk about a shared passion for 'The Great Gatsby', but in hindsight maybe I shouldn't have told them "What's the point in living if you can't feel alive?"