“Shit,” I swore as the beer was absorbed into my new crisp proof-read targeted CVs, “Gonna have to print off a new batch now.”
Ellen picked up one of the less beer-stained resumes as I wrung the others out over my pint glass and read, “Significant experience in the hospitality sector. Where did you get that?”
“Working at the hotel”
“For the two months you worked there?”
“Yeah”
“Does that count as significant, really?”
“More significant than none”
“True, so where have you been handing these out then?”
“Everywhere, shops, restaurants, sales companies, you name it I’ve prostrated myself before them like a geisha kowtowing to a sadistically enthusiastic recruitment company that claims to place you in a job within nine days and remain buoyant two months later when you’ve left the internet dry of jobs having pursued a scorch earth policy of applying to absolutely everything,” I spat.
“No luck then?”
“I got a free pen.”
The dreaded recession-ridden job hunt had not been going well. Having strolled through school and University with good grades and a plethora of outside activities as well as the odd part-time job, we were not prepared for the harsh slap to the face that would follow graduation. Who would have thought an interview didn’t necessarily mean you had the job?
“What about you?” Angus continued.
“I had that interview yesterday… they said they’d call next week.”
“The production company? That’s good isn’t it?”
Was it good? If I got the job, it would be a foot in the door, a step in the right direction so that I didn’t have to spend a year spraying perfume at unsuspecting women as they walked through Debenhams. But then how would I tell my mother…
“They make pornos.”
“Ah, I see,” I looked out the window at the dreary weather, “Would I have heard of any of them?”
“Angus!”
“Sorry” I laughed, “So they want you to be in a porno? I’m not sure I’m cool with that, I’m liberal but you know”
“No I’m not going to star in one you idiot, I’d just be digitalising their stock,” said Ellen with a glare.
“So you’d watch porn for a living?”
“Yeah… well…” she frowned, “Well what luck have you had before you start judging me?”
My girlfriend was going to watch adult films for a living, my mates could never know, my girlfriend would be more of a bloke than me. I’d have to become a fireman or a lorry driver; I scrunched up the CV entitled ‘au pair’ and replied:
“I had that interview with the sales company but…”
“But you said they were all spinning on their own inflated egos massaging themselves with commission they didn’t deserve and that you could meet more charming people at a war crimes trial”
“Yeah”
“You didn’t get the job did you?”
“No.”
We both sigh and let ourselves slip into a comfortable silence. Where was the demand for my brilliant documentary producing skills? Why weren’t Blue Peter in contact – begging me to be their latest daredevil presenter? Did they not know what they were missing? As I flicked through the local newspaper, a typo jumped out at me.
“Look at this!” I say as I throw it across the table, “What an idiot. Where’s the professionalism!? I could do their job! Why don’t I have their job?”
As Angus stares blankly trying to come up with an answer I take a deep breath and come back down to Earth.
“How much longer can we possibly wait?”
Neither of us can muster an answer as we sup away at our drinks, envious of the effortlessly cool barman animatedly talking someone through the selection of gins on offer in his place of work, I feel myself starting to give up hope.
“Pint?”
to be continued…
