On the Job Hunt

The television happened to be on a tennis match. Serena Williams was playing and the camera was lovingly focussed on her toned, lycra-clad posterior and my granny goes “Would you look at the bottom on that thing?” I know she comes from a different time with values and ideas that are alien to my own, but her unassuming racism is still shocking.

I hate applying for job. The whole ritual depresses me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m great and employers should count themselves lucky to be in my presence. They don’t see it that way. I was writing a cover letter for a computer games shop and I’m so sick of writing drab missives along the lines of “Dear Sir/Madam, I am writing in response to your advertisement of blah blah blah”, that I snapped and wrote my cover letter in the style of a cheesy infomercial flogging a cybernetic sales assistant. I have no idea if this is cute or insanely desperate. But I don’t think I have anything to lose. They’ll either ignore it or give me a job. I can live with that.