Over
three years ago I wrote a blog announcing that I would soon be moving to
London, where I would be attending the University of East London to study
Journalism and Creative and Professional Writing. I spoke mostly about how worried
I was about having to endure the local language, and how I was fearful of
catching Cockney, and becaming alll Landan like. I now write this blog post,
having completed my degree and moved out of our outrageously-priced South
London flat that overlooked the Thames.
I
confidently stipulated that I was 'not worried about picking up the accent and
the slang however, because I'm very hard to influence.' Unfortunately, that
doesn't seem to have been the case. Many people have been noting that I have a
slight Landan twang. Luckily, I don't think it's critical, and I should be able
to recover; in time at least.
However,
I have become somewhat of a chameleon, being able to assume a persona which is
similar to those around me. Back home in Kent, I am a bumbling, slightly
posh-sounding lad. Should a Cockney gas engineer enter our flat, my
language and personality change; partly in a foolish attempt to sound more
manly and in a desperate attempt to be accepted. "Alright mate? How's
traffic get'in 'ere? Bin busy? You still got your motors?" And so on.
 |
| A drawing for A Misanthrope's Guide to London, by Chris Parsons. (Click to enlarge) |
Our
flat was very nice; apart from the constant presence of gas engineers having to
resuscitate our boiler back into life. Oh, and apart from the numerous water
leaks; all those magical evenings spent mopping up water from under the now
bowed laminate flooring. Mind you, that's made up for by the evenings I spent
watching the woman across the road get naked with her blinds still open; until
she noticed. Those memories will remain with me for a long time. However, not
as long as the dent left in my savings by paying nearly £1,000 a month for a
flat. We could have never afforded that place if it wasn't for our generous
student loans.
It's
a cliché I've heard an innumerable amount of times, but those three years at
University really did fly past. It doesn't seem that long ago since myself, my
other half and a box of half-eaten pizza, were abandoned in Landon by my
parents and left to endure the next chapter of our lives. Well, that chapter is
finished, and it ended with us getting 2:1s, so yes, thank you for your
congratulation. However, my grade is still a sore point. I was less than 1%
away from a 1st. 0.4% more would have given me a 1st. And you know what? I can
pinpoint the exact mistake in my dissertation that lost me that higher grade.
If I had just italicised the words A Misanthrope's Guide to London, in
the handful of times I wrote them together, I think I would have gotten a 1st.
FOR FU...
Anyway,
it was a mixed three years. I met lots of, as everyone says, awesome and
amazing people who were mostly all far more talented than I. Some modules I
loved and excelled at, and others I hated and just about scraped through. There
is something about Sociology that makes me look and feel like I've just had a
lobotomy. The next time someone talks me about the similarity between Adorno's
theory of the Culture Industry and Marxism, I think I'll go into a coma from
which I'll never awaken.
The
Creative and Professional Writing side of my degree has proved invaluable, and
despite feeling trepidation about what it would entail, I absolutely loved
almost every minute. It made me read books I never would have, and yet enjoyed.
It pushed me to constantly improve my writing, which having read some of my old
stuff, is glaringly obvious. It has even made me look at my own writing very
differently, and I have produced pieces I could not be prouder of. My
dissertation project A Misanthrope's Guide to London, is one such example where
I have really honed my style of writing. That is in no little part thanks to
the teaching on the course.
At
the start, I was most looking forward to the Journalism side of my studies, and
I did very well and learnt a great deal. However, towards the end I dreaded
Journalism modules. That was, in the most part, because I felt a great deal of
resentment towards the fact that no matter how well I did, I would still not be
qualified to be a Journalist, and would still find it immensely hard to get
into a profession where experienced journalists are being culled, rather than
new ones being hired. By the end, I had lost my desire to be a journalist; for
now at least. Unfortunately, that in part also falls on the below-par teaching for
journalism my University offers.
So,
the bit of paper has now finally arrived confirming my attainment of a 2:1, and
three months after finishing University, I am the stereotypical graduate who is
failing to get any sort of job. Currently, the past few years look to have all
been a delaying tactic for going on Job Seeker's Allowance. There are various
reasons for this, such the little experience I hold, and trying to get a career
in a specific sector. However, a large reason for this is because there has
been a major push in apprenticeships by the Government. It means jobs that
might have once gone to the likes of people like me, are now going to younger
people who can be hired for a criminally low wage for a couple of years, whilst
getting on-the-job training. If I was 18 years old now, and looking at what to
do, I think I would be looking at being an apprentice too.
However,
I keep sending out CVs in all directions (probably approaching a figure of
around 40), and only getting responses from a few. Two job interviews in three
months. The sad and depressing life of a graduate. Maybe it's because of my
accent which has become tapestrised. Or the fact my University is at the bottom
of the league tables; despite being a great place. It could be because of the
economy, or that fact I am part of, what the media keeps calling 'the lost
generation'. Possibly it is due to so many hundreds of thousands of young
adults having a degree, it has become a worthless piece of paper. It could be
because I have about as much professional experience as a foetus, and being
stuck in the paradox of needing experience to get a job, but not being able to
get the necessary experience. Who knows?
Regardless,
if you're an employer looking for a marketing assistant/junior (or something
not too dissimilar) somewhere in Kent, who's ideal candidate is a misanthropic,
yet slightly amusing and committed individual, then I'm your guy!
P.S.
I know prospective employers are reading this blog, because I put it on my CV,
so why not beg? If you don't ask, you don't get… I am highly skilled after all.
P.P.S.
I am aware that I'm applying for jobs that are not marketing related, and that
plea might be off putting to other jobs; but I'm versatile and not as picky as
perhaps I might have sounded. I'll do anything... apart from telesales anyway.
