I finish my degree in Creative Writing and I turn to the world and say ‘I’m here! Employ Me!’. The world takes me in for a second, my lack of height, the brown of my eyes, and then says ‘Oh sorry, that’s really not enough.’
My point here in Another Graduate is not to rant about the fact that life for graduates is such a hopeless struggle. I’m not going to obsess that the job market is cowering in a corner somewhere and barks every time we (graduates) try to go anywhere near it. Nor am I going to lay down the feeling of horror and sadden which I feel every time I have to go and serve another bottle of Pinot Noir to a condescending city banker over conversations that take the shape of ‘too many people simply have degrees these days, price them out I say.’
Here I’ll simply recount my efforts to educate and negotiate myself into the career of my choosing. I’ll log the work placements which I’ll freely give my time to, in the hope of toting-up some golden experience. I might even consider how I packed my life into a few boxes and moved it from Liverpool to London to seek my (job finding) fortune. I’ll talk about the Masters I’m taking to try an make myself ‘a more attractive candidate’ and convey myself in that dull language which only recruitment speaks in.
Over the next year, as I blog there can be only two outcomes: I will find the job I’m after, or I shall continue to be one of the many graduates working in versions of Pizza Hut all over the world, dreaming of a better way of life.