Last Christmas I was made redundant. It was a bit shit.
Welcome to my Christmas Redundancy Diary. It’s a cracker.
You may like to read my introduction, or just dive straight in. But please wear a wetsuit, some of my comments are icy cold…….

DAY TWO

Breakfast; Curly Wurly. Not as nutritious as it sounds on account of all the holes. Think they’re referred to as ‘empty calories’.

Rejected by Boots. Apparently I haven’t attained the appropriate ‘level’ on my application to put shampoo bottles on a shelf, despite starting in retail at the age of 12 and managing a city centre shop for the past 4 years. (One might say unsuccessfully on account of its closure. But let’s not nit-pick).

‘Psychometric Testing’. Or ‘Psycho Testing’, for short; A questionnaire specifically designed for you to guess what answer may further the progress of your job application. No wrong options apparently. Although I would beg to differ, as clearly my failure at this stage has proved I had indeed managed to choose at least some incorrect answers. The Psycho Test is so cleverly and expertly constructed that it is capable of determining NOT ONE SINGLE aspect of your ability to work, your experience, your personality or your attitude. It did however learn from me that if I served a customer who was purchasing a packet of condoms, I would happily embarrass them by pointing out the ‘2 for 1’ offer.

Nowhere on the application did it ask what skills I could bring to the role of a Boots assistant, i.e, could I draw on my eyebrows with a Crayola crayon and wear all the make-up I own in one hit? Colouring-in has been a favourite pastime of mine since I was 3, so consider that box well and truly ticked.

I would’ve loved to share the Psycho Test for feedback and to understand where my failure lay. However, I had to sign a Non Disclosure Agreement in blood and bile, with penalty of my detached head being paraded around the Tower of London.

I had no idea applying for a job would be this hard.
This disheartening.
This demoralising.
This withering.
This alienating.
This crushing.

I’m using artistic licence with the chronology, throwing in extra vowels and consonants for a fun, enjoyable read.
However, all events and breakfasts are accurately portrayed.

If you are employed or otherwise content and stable with your work/life/domestic situation, please pop over to WANTED. NOT WANTED. where you can have a smug, self-righteous, cosy giggle at my crumbling self-esteem. You’ll find my self-initiated Job Club, my ridiculous misguided applications for ANY kind of work and my redundancy diary, a revealing look into the day to day life of the lowlife worthless pits of humanity the unemployed. If you are not content and stable with your work/life/domestic situation, then let’s hold hands and stick our tongues out at the rest of the world. But you still have to go read all the stuff.