Ben Seager’s Weblog

I don’t want a job, I would much prefer to sit around on my arse all day playing my Xbox and eating cake while society paid me a retainer (although if I did this for too long I would probably have to go on the Jeremy Kyle show to explain to Daz that he isn’t the father, and I had slept with Gaz while we were “on a break”). Unfortunately the reality is that I need a job to get money to pay for stuff.

Recently, I’ve been applying my arse off for various positions and attending the odd interview here but I still don’t have a job. I don’t really understand why. I’m clever, have a wide range of skills, hard-working and responsible. Then it dawned on me – it’s not my fault; I’ve actually been lied to about job-hunting for years. So, to try and help you with any job hunting I’ve compiled this little guide.

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Job adverts appear in a wide range of locations. From internet ads on websites with huge database to little free-ads nestled comfortably next to the “box-numbers” of sad lonely people in local papers. You may think that adverts are accurate, giving a genuine representation of the role which is vacant. This is bollocks. The word flexible often appears in adverts. However, it seems whoever writes these adverts has changed the meaning of flexible from “susceptible of modification or adaptation; adaptable: a flexible schedule” to “rigid”. Also, any ad which highlights “excellent rates of pay and conditions” without giving a monetary amount or describing the conditions should really read “poor rates of pay for shit work”.

Interviews

Interviews are supposed to be nerve-wracking, stressful affairs but in reality they aren’t. Don’t bother with all that pig-crap about imagining the interviewer naked or deep breathing exercises just remember to say exactly what they want to hear. If you go off on a tangent, or say something which could be misconstrued as intelligent you’ve blown it. Don’t tell the interview monkey that you “like to use initiative”, tell them that you “like to do exactly as I’m told, no questions asked”. If you are asked about future plans, for the love of god don’t say something like “wanting to advance human understanding in the field of biochemistry, with particular attention focused on cell division in the early stages of pregnancy”. Instead say something like “I’ve always had plans to work for a sweaty shit-fuck like you, preferably doing something menial and degrading.”

Skills

Remember that stuff you were told at school about transferable skills being important? Bollocks. Utter, utter bollocks. Employers are looking for skills which exactly fit the role being advertised. I mean, what use is an in-depth knowledge of electronics when the role requires you to answer a telephone? If you need a job in a shop working the checkout, don’t bother mentioning that you gained a distinction for your sixth-form economics project or that you won several awards for your maths ability. Rather you should emphasise that you are actually quite good at pressing buttons and that. My advice when choosing which skills to develop (particularly if you are at, or going to, university and require a part-time job) is aim low. Need to work answering a telephone, well then may I suggest you practice by volunteering to answer the telephone for someone – the skills you develop will last you a lifetime.

You read the headline, I mean it.

I can’t drive; I walk, get the bus or get lifts in other people’s cars and it really pisses me off when I see a cyclist. Let me explain.

If I’m walking on the pavement too or from the pub there is usually at least a hundred (perhaps a slight exaggeration) cyclists riding towards me. Cyclists on cycles are not pedestrians. This isn’t the Oz we’re living in where it is perfectly acceptable to have wheeled people walking around; this is the normal, grey, wet, cold world where pavements are meant for things using legs to gain forward momentum. If you ride a bike on the pavement I will walk into you, hopefully forcing you into the path of oncoming traffic.

Red lights mean stop. Simple. I have no reason to have any knowledge of the Highway Code but even I know that bit. Red. Stop. Red. Stop. Fucking simple. If cyclists weren’t too busy listening to iPods and admiring themselves and their alloy penis extensions in any reflective surface they passed perhaps I wouldn’t have to keep dodging them at pedestrian crossings.

When on the road, you are a vehicle not a lighthouse or a laser-rock show. Again, this bit is simple – a single white light burning forward and a red light burning continuously to the rear. No blue lights, no flashing halogen bulbs or neon signs which say “I’m a massive dick”. Two. Little. Lights. One. Red. The. Other. White. Idiots.

I’m starting to think all cyclists are retarded shit-heads.

*There are a few exceptions, but most cyclists are shit-heads.