'The Independent | Careers Advice'

I'm still in the early stages of The Job Hunt. These stages are known as "researching" and require close attention, great skill and lots of time. Yesterday, I decided to follow The Independent's 'Careers Advice', a nice shiny section underneath the Student tab on the website.

Well, I would like to thank The Independent for their comprehensive A-Z Careers. For those taking a look at 'C', you're faced with the two options of 'Chemical engineering' and 'Cruise staff'. 'R' can only boast the one career of 'Recovery driver', and 'Windscreen technician' looks lonely on the 'W' page. In fact, the only career that took my fancy from this A-Z (that's the whole alphabet of careers!) is listed solitarily on the 'O' page: 'Offshore helicopter pilot'.

The related article then tells me how this is the only sector that's in a period of growth. Growth! That's the sort of sector I need to be in in a recession! It's also an industry that is attracting younger applicants, and, most importantly, an increasing amount of females. You get to fly oil workers out to "the far northern rigs", so you'd practically be working in the oil industry. That's full of money! 

Of course, all that I've really learnt from this is how to waste time on the internet. Which, as well all know, is what "researching" really is.

Edit: I have now fallen into the Google trap. I've got 60,400 links to go through that are related to 'offshore helicopter pilot'. The 7th link takes me to www.helicoptercrashes.com. Maybe, just maybe, this career isn't really for me. 

The Importance of the Phallus

Today I had a class where I was, once again, told to look out for phallic symbols. According to numerous modules I have studied at my University, who have pocketed £9,215 for the pleasure of teaching me, the phallus is Very Important. Any mention of a phallic symbol is guaranteed to get a nod of approval from your seminar leader, especially if you can relate it to gender issues or Freudism. I'm afraid that I may fail my degree, for I appear to disregard these phallic symbols too quickly. They don't jump out at me. I don't see the relevance. Am I missing a trick here? How important is the phallus in every day life?

Today I toyed with the idea of becoming a food journalist. I'm sure many people consider this option at some point in their lives - the idea of eating food for a living is instantly appealing. I'm thinking of writing an assignment for my Journalism module on the hunt for the perfect 'San Francisco burrito' in London. This is a topic close to my heart, something that generates great enthusiasm and passion instantly. I've already spent three years investigating this tough task and can accurately describe each burrito that has been tested ("too ricey", "too healthy" and "too salady" spring to mind). Could this be my pathway into a burrito-filled career? Will I be commissioned to write a book about my journey finding the ultimate cheesy, not-too-ricey treat?

I can only conclude that to succeed in this mission I must look hard for a phallic symbol. This is what my University has taught me. Maybe, for each burrito, I could include a phallic rating. The winning burrito would have to not only consist of the right amount of cheese, frijoles and salsa, but would also have to resemble a large penis. 

When I Grow Up

The first step on my quest for full time employment took me to the University careers office (which happens to be in the old doctor's surgery, a building that has never filled me with joy or optimism). Expecting a dismal outlook and blank job notice boards, I was faced with the ultimate 'don't ever ask me this' encouraging question: What do you want to be when you grow up?

This is a question that requires hope, determination and, most importantly, imagination. The answer must be strong and ambitious, preferably referring to saving the world or building robots. Saying 'an office junior' or 'a stay-at-home Mum' isn't ideal, no, they want astronauts and scientists and entrepreneurs. "Something to do with books?" was my response, hesitant and scared, feeling ridiculous for suggesting something actually related to my degree.

It went down well. We looked on websites. We went through leaflets on routes into the publishing industry. We discussed sweet talking receptionists to gain information about companies. We, naturally, came up with no helpful answer.

My homework is to create a CV. CVs are the perfect opportunity to win over potential employers. You're actively encouraged to boast about the skills that you have gained over the years and lie about your interest in classic Hollywood movies. This is my chance to shine! I have a Grade I certificate in Jazz Ballet (awarded after a touching dance impersonating a wave), have had artwork displayed in the Tate Gallery in St. Ives (admittedly so did every other primary school in Devon) and can play the clarinet (no Grades to boast about there though). This is my sure-fire route into the tough, cruel world of publishing. It won't matter that I can't afford to undertake unpaid work experience. My interests list of 'magazines from the 80s, Gilmore Girls and strong coffee' shows my extraordinary ability to waste time and live in decades gone by. These are the vital skills needed for a grown up job with books and will, almost certainly, guarantee me an exciting new job.

Or perhaps, and most likely, it will take me all the way back to step one. The front step of the careers office. My old friend.

The Hunt Begins

News of the recession and so-called 'credit crunch' has been easy to ignore as a student in London. Times have always been tough, only now we have to fight over those last few tins of beans in Asda. I'm already bathing in enough debt to last me a long time, my credit rating has been shot to tiny jagged pieces and those mystical things called 'mortgages' have never even been within grasp - the only effect felt from this recession is the loss of Woolworths' Pick 'N' Mix. 

Today I discovered that the job I had lined up for after my graduation this year has vanished. Been sucked up by an ex-public schoolboy who himself has never bathed in debt, but rather gold-encrusted droplets of a privileged lifestyle. Knocked out by a crippling blow of "we've changed our minds, we need someone in the London office everyday". I'm moving to Brighton, you see, something that we've been able to plan wonderfully and breezily with the knowledge of my future 'working from home'. Will I even have a home come the month of June?

The hunt for a job, or rather, a future, starts today. Or more likely tomorrow; a girl needs time to wallow in self pity with breaded mushrooms, butter soaked popcorn and that Bacardi that's been sitting on top of the fridge for five months. With news headlines declaring 'GRADUATES WOES: NO JOBS AVAILABLE' and 'IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR A JOB NOW, YOU'RE SUCKERED', the upcoming months will be joyless and soul destroying. With the additional task of 24,000 words due in before the end of term, at least one industry can be safe in the knowledge of some boosted profits: I'm going to need a lot of coffee.