Sold My Soul To The Devil For A Job.

As of 2006, ambitious women the world over watched as a Meryl Streep type Anna Wintour invaded their screens, reminding them that a modern day love story, can be just as much about a job as it can be about a man.

Girls are no longer raised to polish oven doors, we’re here to work. Don’t get me wrong, I know my way around a turkey baster as well as the next Nigella Lawson, but I was brought up knowing I had to work, and since statistically we spend 99,117 hours of our lives doing just that, I figured I might as well get the job that I want. Unfortunately for me, so did everyone else.

Everyone seems to be looking for a job, yet no one seems to know what wins in the battle between industry experience and education. Take it from me, who has tried both, having the right contacts wins hands down every time. Instead of complaining about it, you just accept the hierarchy of the working world, and start from the bottom. The bottom of course, being unpaid.

The chances are life will throw you a lifeline eventually, even if it is a minimum wage one. You take it of course, because let’s face it, a few thousand a year, is better than no thousand at all.

Before you disagree with me, I must admit it’s not just the career aspect of ’The Devil Wears Prada’ that caught my interest. It’s was the Chanel. And the Prada of course. Definitely the Prada. I need shoes, and not just for my own vanity, no, I need them to make a good impression on that next job interview, waiting just around the corner.

Also if like myself, being able to afford to move out before the age of forty seems an appealing prospect, you must embrace the jobs which pay badly, just as much as the ones which pay well.

As for my soul. That was sold a long time ago. I could blame the companies which take us in under their umbrella, fully qualified, yet working for free. One volunteer after the other, all of them getting the job done, not one asking for a penny, because having the experience on the CV is payment enough.

I could even blame the boss, who pays you too little despite demanding so much. Yes, he definitely deserves a mention.

Not because they are the reason I will soon be purchasing from the very charity shops I once donated to. Or for the lines around my eyes which no Sainsbury’s bought home facial can seem to eradicate. But because they gave me the first taste of what success could taste like, and I kind of liked it.


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Not Quite Resolutions

Image From http://therichkidwannabe.blogspot.com/2011/01/resolutions-for-new-year.htmlI’ve never much believed in New Years Resolutions, mainly because the turning of the year is no more likely to get me on a treadmill than bikini season or my gym instructor’s scornful “I haven’t seen you here in months” eyes. So just to be clear these are not resolutions. It’s two weeks into 2012, so we can agree that I’ve definitely missed the resolution making portion of the year.

These are not so much ways to improve myself, and lets face it why would I want to (don’t answer that) but instead, more ways to ensure I don’t reach 2013 without a single thing to show for myself aside from that increasing Jack Daniels dependency. And shoes, far, far too many shoes.

1. Get a job, one which pays more than the most minimum of wages. As much as I love my mum, I can’t spend the next 27 years living at home, which incidentally is how long it would take me to put a deposit on the very shittiest of flats with my current salary.

2. Sky dive, or bungee jump, or take up aerobatic flying lessons or pretty much anything in this general category that is guaranteed to make me pee my pants a little bit. You’re never going to be amazed in life, unless you do some things, which are a little bit amazing.

3. Succeed in getting George Michaels “Faith” out of my head. It’s been stuck there for approximately 3 years, and whilst before it was bad, now it also comes with the accompanying dance moves compliments of J.D. No not the liquor, the character, in Scrubs.

4. Visit a county, where the rain is warm. Or perhaps before I get ahead of myself, I should aim to visit a country which is not Cypriot, Greek, Greek-Cypriot or any other variation which results in me eating Feta in the village tavern owned by Stelios.

5. Slow dance. Not jokingly. Not with my God-sister while drunk. Not with my dog (who for the record does an excellent Waltz) and not with my fingers on the steering wheel whilst bored in traffic.

The list could go on. A result of a very unproductive 2011 no doubt, I am left with a million and one things I was always meant to, but never quite got around to doing. I guess I could add teaching my dad how to text to the list and losing that last pound that just won’t budge from my thighs, but like I said these’s aren’t resolutions, and I am not a miracle worker.


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