“You need to cover everything it says in the advertisement but don’t make it too obvious.”
“You need to offer them something different so that you’ll stand out from the rest but don’t be too different.”
These are just a caption of the befuddling advice I received when I saw a job I was slightly tempted in applying for. At a first glance the idea entered my head but left after a few seconds. I went to get a coffee and sat back down at my desk and the idea popped back in that I should apply for this job. “Hmm…” I said out loud as I started to envisage myself in my new role, strolling down the street in a three piece suit and a bowler hat with an umbrella hanging off my wrist. Before I took this fantasy further I thought I’d ask some respected people for some advice on applying for the job. I turned to the person on my right.
“Make sure you give an example for everything that you write about.”
“Ok.”
“But don’t start your example with the word ‘example’, it’ll make you sound desperate.”
Trying to avoid the word example whilst actually explaining one is going to be a lot trickier than it seems. A bit bemused I speak to another person with years of experience in the working world.
“You need to demonstrate to them in a covering letter why you are able to do the job advertised.”
“A covering letter, yes, that’s a good idea.”
“Make sure your ending paragraph is one about your demands about the place, what you expect from the company and from your line manager.”
“What?”
Again, I was really confused by the advice. I can’t write out a list of demands to prospective employers because they’ll stay just that, prospective. I didn’t really know what to do now, I’d asked two people who were intelligent and with over 30 years of working experience but yet their advice seemed almost like a riddle to me, where I actually found myself thinking deeply about each work spoken in case I’d missed the profound meaning within what had been said. I gave up and decided to go to the shop to buy something for my lunch.
Outside the shop was someone I hadn’t seen in ages. I worked with him once temping in an office in the centre. After the pleasantries and him telling me he’s still temping after 3 years I thought I’d ask him for some advice on applying for the job I had seen.
“Fucking doing mate, just write what you want and what you feel comfortable with and if they don’t employ you then it’s because they’re not looking for someone like you. Simple as.”
And it is. He spoke a lot of sense so much so that I wanted to apply for the job so I arranged to meet him for a few beers soon, bought a baguette and scuttled back to the office to download the application form.
I sat down, shook the mouse to bring the computer alive went to download the application form when I saw at the bottom the deadline was yesterday.
“You need to offer them something different so that you’ll stand out from the rest but don’t be too different.”
These are just a caption of the befuddling advice I received when I saw a job I was slightly tempted in applying for. At a first glance the idea entered my head but left after a few seconds. I went to get a coffee and sat back down at my desk and the idea popped back in that I should apply for this job. “Hmm…” I said out loud as I started to envisage myself in my new role, strolling down the street in a three piece suit and a bowler hat with an umbrella hanging off my wrist. Before I took this fantasy further I thought I’d ask some respected people for some advice on applying for the job. I turned to the person on my right.
“Make sure you give an example for everything that you write about.”
“Ok.”
“But don’t start your example with the word ‘example’, it’ll make you sound desperate.”
Trying to avoid the word example whilst actually explaining one is going to be a lot trickier than it seems. A bit bemused I speak to another person with years of experience in the working world.
“You need to demonstrate to them in a covering letter why you are able to do the job advertised.”
“A covering letter, yes, that’s a good idea.”
“Make sure your ending paragraph is one about your demands about the place, what you expect from the company and from your line manager.”
“What?”
Again, I was really confused by the advice. I can’t write out a list of demands to prospective employers because they’ll stay just that, prospective. I didn’t really know what to do now, I’d asked two people who were intelligent and with over 30 years of working experience but yet their advice seemed almost like a riddle to me, where I actually found myself thinking deeply about each work spoken in case I’d missed the profound meaning within what had been said. I gave up and decided to go to the shop to buy something for my lunch.
Outside the shop was someone I hadn’t seen in ages. I worked with him once temping in an office in the centre. After the pleasantries and him telling me he’s still temping after 3 years I thought I’d ask him for some advice on applying for the job I had seen.
“Fucking doing mate, just write what you want and what you feel comfortable with and if they don’t employ you then it’s because they’re not looking for someone like you. Simple as.”
And it is. He spoke a lot of sense so much so that I wanted to apply for the job so I arranged to meet him for a few beers soon, bought a baguette and scuttled back to the office to download the application form.
I sat down, shook the mouse to bring the computer alive went to download the application form when I saw at the bottom the deadline was yesterday.
Here's some more scrbblings I did to keep me sane from all that pants advice I received.
****************************************
A gun shot fires. The CCTV camera hangs in pieces from its stand in the top right hand corner of the shop by the papers. Clarence runs out from the back from hearing the noise and sees the man in the clown mask pointing his gun at Yannish. He notices her and beckons her over with his pistol. She hesitantly slowly walks forward, regretting not phoning someone as soon as she heard the shot. Standing next to him, he notices her trembling and breathing fast and heavily.
“I want the money.” Says the man.
Yannish tries to work out if he recognises the voice but it’s a voice that’s being put on. It’s a deep gravel sounding voice.
“It’s, it’s, it’s in the till.” Weeps Clarence.
The man turns the gun exclusively at her. He steps forward so that that the tip is only a foot away from her face. She looks down at the floor, unable to look up. He moves in closer and rubs the pistol along her cheek down towards her chin and slowly uses it to push her chin back up. Silently crying she raises her head to look straight into the pistol’s barrel. Seeing the long dark tunnel in front of her and knowing what’s at the end of it can end her life.
“I don’t want what’s in the till. Show me the safe.” Growls the stranger.
“I’ll show you.” Says Yannish, knowing full well Clarence is struggling to cope.
“No. You’ll both show me. Turn around.”
They both slowly turn around and walk out back, the gun still only a few feet away from Clarence. They reach the office door where the safe is located and Clarence slowly patches in the door lock code, trying hard not to press the wrong button. Yannish could see she is struggling and thinks the robber can see this as well and is deliberately picking on her. He knows that through terror her spirit has been beaten and she’ll do exactly what he wants. He doesn’t know who this person is, he was too careful not to get his face seen, but he hates him. He wants to inflict some of the torment he was inflicting on them on him. Scared though he is Yannish can feel the anger inside him festering and growing by each moment.
“Hurry up.” Says the stranger.
Clarence’s hand is shaking but manages to patch in the right code. The door unlocks. The stranger nudges the gun behind Clarence’s back pushing her into the room, she falls forward stopping her self from tumbling over by catching on some cabinets. The stranger turns to Yannish and uses the gun to point him into the room where he huddles close to Clarence. They both start to shake.
“Open it.”
“We can’t. We only get the code from head office in the mornings and none of use did the morning shift.” Says Yannish, in a slightly defiant tone.
Even though he can’t see the expression behind the mask, he knows the stranger is scowling Perhaps cursing under his breath but all he sees are the big white teeth of the red nosed tipped clown.
“Is this true?”
Clarence starts to whimper loudly, her shaking starts to increase but she doesn’t respond.
“Is this true?” Repeats the stranger.
Clarence can’t bring herself to speak hear head rolls around while her eyes puff up. The stranger moves forward and again raises his gun to her, resting the end on the tip of her nose and rubbing is around and around so she can feel the coldness of the metal. She opens her mouth slowly, her tongue falling to the front of her teeth as she tries to speak.
“It’s a lie. I have the code.” Shouts Yannish quickly, seeing her in utter distress.
The stranger swiftly turns his head and stares at Yannish. Yannish sees his eyes through the small holes in the mask looking at him, never blinking, just staring at him. He then swivels his body away from Clarence and leans towards Yannish. Clarence just stands still, looking at the floor. The stranger grabs Yannish by his shirt, ripping his buttons off and tearing the corner of his breast pocket as he draws him closer. For a moment, Yannish thinks about challenging the stranger by grabbing his right arm holding the gun and pushing him back. But the bravado evaporates as the stranger throws him backwards making him jar his back on the corner of the desk. As he starts to gain his stance again he notices the stranger walking backwards out of the room just into the door way raising his gun at them both.
“I know the code.” Yannish cries. His eyes glistening against the light as the prospect of death starts to dawn on him. Yannish turns to Clarence for some sort of response or plea to help them. But all he sees is her standing still her head flopped down almost accepting whatever is coming.
“I know the code! Please, I know the code!”
The stranger starts circling his gun around them both, starting of slowly first but then increasing.
A shot is fired. The sound bounces all around the small room unable to escape. Clarence starts crying loudly, she grabs hold of Yannish who is flung across the desk. She pulls him up, his eyes looking at her in shock. He reaches out and starts to touch her face. The stranger walks back into the room, kicks away the remaining pieces of the safe door and crouches down to it. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pair of gloves, he puts them on and then retrieves a white plastic bag from the other pocket. He dips his hand into the safe and pulls out a handful of money. Lunges in scoops out the remaining notes and shoves them into the white plastic bag. He turns upwards and sees Yannish dazed by the gun shot touching his body checking for injury. The stranger gets up, facing the two employees all the time. He wraps the white plastic bag full of money around his wrist and then runs out.
“I want the money.” Says the man.
Yannish tries to work out if he recognises the voice but it’s a voice that’s being put on. It’s a deep gravel sounding voice.
“It’s, it’s, it’s in the till.” Weeps Clarence.
The man turns the gun exclusively at her. He steps forward so that that the tip is only a foot away from her face. She looks down at the floor, unable to look up. He moves in closer and rubs the pistol along her cheek down towards her chin and slowly uses it to push her chin back up. Silently crying she raises her head to look straight into the pistol’s barrel. Seeing the long dark tunnel in front of her and knowing what’s at the end of it can end her life.
“I don’t want what’s in the till. Show me the safe.” Growls the stranger.
“I’ll show you.” Says Yannish, knowing full well Clarence is struggling to cope.
“No. You’ll both show me. Turn around.”
They both slowly turn around and walk out back, the gun still only a few feet away from Clarence. They reach the office door where the safe is located and Clarence slowly patches in the door lock code, trying hard not to press the wrong button. Yannish could see she is struggling and thinks the robber can see this as well and is deliberately picking on her. He knows that through terror her spirit has been beaten and she’ll do exactly what he wants. He doesn’t know who this person is, he was too careful not to get his face seen, but he hates him. He wants to inflict some of the torment he was inflicting on them on him. Scared though he is Yannish can feel the anger inside him festering and growing by each moment.
“Hurry up.” Says the stranger.
Clarence’s hand is shaking but manages to patch in the right code. The door unlocks. The stranger nudges the gun behind Clarence’s back pushing her into the room, she falls forward stopping her self from tumbling over by catching on some cabinets. The stranger turns to Yannish and uses the gun to point him into the room where he huddles close to Clarence. They both start to shake.
“Open it.”
“We can’t. We only get the code from head office in the mornings and none of use did the morning shift.” Says Yannish, in a slightly defiant tone.
Even though he can’t see the expression behind the mask, he knows the stranger is scowling Perhaps cursing under his breath but all he sees are the big white teeth of the red nosed tipped clown.
“Is this true?”
Clarence starts to whimper loudly, her shaking starts to increase but she doesn’t respond.
“Is this true?” Repeats the stranger.
Clarence can’t bring herself to speak hear head rolls around while her eyes puff up. The stranger moves forward and again raises his gun to her, resting the end on the tip of her nose and rubbing is around and around so she can feel the coldness of the metal. She opens her mouth slowly, her tongue falling to the front of her teeth as she tries to speak.
“It’s a lie. I have the code.” Shouts Yannish quickly, seeing her in utter distress.
The stranger swiftly turns his head and stares at Yannish. Yannish sees his eyes through the small holes in the mask looking at him, never blinking, just staring at him. He then swivels his body away from Clarence and leans towards Yannish. Clarence just stands still, looking at the floor. The stranger grabs Yannish by his shirt, ripping his buttons off and tearing the corner of his breast pocket as he draws him closer. For a moment, Yannish thinks about challenging the stranger by grabbing his right arm holding the gun and pushing him back. But the bravado evaporates as the stranger throws him backwards making him jar his back on the corner of the desk. As he starts to gain his stance again he notices the stranger walking backwards out of the room just into the door way raising his gun at them both.
“I know the code.” Yannish cries. His eyes glistening against the light as the prospect of death starts to dawn on him. Yannish turns to Clarence for some sort of response or plea to help them. But all he sees is her standing still her head flopped down almost accepting whatever is coming.
“I know the code! Please, I know the code!”
The stranger starts circling his gun around them both, starting of slowly first but then increasing.
A shot is fired. The sound bounces all around the small room unable to escape. Clarence starts crying loudly, she grabs hold of Yannish who is flung across the desk. She pulls him up, his eyes looking at her in shock. He reaches out and starts to touch her face. The stranger walks back into the room, kicks away the remaining pieces of the safe door and crouches down to it. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a pair of gloves, he puts them on and then retrieves a white plastic bag from the other pocket. He dips his hand into the safe and pulls out a handful of money. Lunges in scoops out the remaining notes and shoves them into the white plastic bag. He turns upwards and sees Yannish dazed by the gun shot touching his body checking for injury. The stranger gets up, facing the two employees all the time. He wraps the white plastic bag full of money around his wrist and then runs out.
3 comments:
Drama! Keep going.
I saw a job I might apply for but the deadline is tomorrow. I might fill it in (all done online), but I'll have to do it in full view of people at work I guess. We'll see.
I don't know if this helps, but my father works in human resources, and he got an application one day that stood out: it ended with the simple phrase: "I can do magic". Obviously, my father and the other employees were curious as to what this meant, and so the appliant came back one more time, and it turned out he really could do magic! Just normal tricks and stuff; pulling flowers out of his sleeve etc. He got the job!
Well written article.
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