As a recent graduate, who thoroughly enjoys nothing more than moaning about my lack of employment, especially to friends who have found that phantom job, I have started thinking about the reasons for my lack of vocation.
I recently applied to a job that I quite wanted, shockingly as opposed to a job I didn't want, it was working for a very well known advertising and PR company in their healthcare division. The recruiters were wonderful, although my opinion may be slightly biased by the fact that they told me I was perfect and they were really positive about my chances. So it was with slight trepidation I bumbled off to London for the morning, secretly relishing the fact that I was on a train, with real commuters, wearing a skirt and shiny new heels, going off to potentially the start of a new life.
I have little interview experience, nonetheless I though that I was charming, just the right amount of self deprecating, and most importantly I thought I showed I had heart. The HR girls, who again were lovely and positive, said that I would hear by that afternoon or the monday after. It is now the monday after the monday after and I've heard nothing...... I even emailed the initial recruiter to see if she had received any feedback and it appears she is ignoring me too.
I can't deny I haven't dwelt on this. In fact I've been tossing and turning (literally, I can't stay still in bed when I'm thinking) all night wondering what I did wrong, if I have something fundamental wrong with my personality whereby I think I'm being witty and charming but in reality I turn into a snarling precocious monster who spews bile or indeed just monosyllabic grunts.
I'm not a big sharer of emotions, ever. At all. Picture an upper class victorian gentleman, stiff upper lip and all that and then double it, triple it even.
This has the unfortunate effect of unintentional emotional spillage; normally when watching anything to do with animals dying. However it pops up at unpredictable moments, at lunch with my mother for example, in a restaurant where talk of jobs turned to me lip wobbling, it wobble all the way though finishing my dry panini and diet coke, it wobbled (with the wonderful neighbour of lip wibbling; the eye well) when the waiter came to ask how the food was (dreadful, and my much loved diet coke was flat) and I carried on wibbling and welling through several shops on our girly shopping spree, when my mum asked if I wanted to be a tv researcher and I told her through sniffles that I'd love to be one but the only person who could help was my dad and he'd never do it (oh woe is me, blah blah blah) I very nearly got hysterical.
In summation, this has lead me to ponder whether I am expecting too much, maybe I'm not that special? I don't, as far as I'm aware, have an overly inflated ego in fact quite the opposite but I have always achieved when I put my mind to something. Maybe previously I have been going after things that are achievable, and now I've reached my limit. What does that mean though? I've recently applied to medical school, if I don't get in there is there anything left for me? How is one supposed to know what they are meant to do?
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