Sitting down and applying for things is sometimes a long process, sometimes a short 'tap here to send CV' process and other times it requires a bit more. Why DO you want to work here? What IS IT about the position you like? How will you BENEFIT from this position?
Sometimes I get confused and splurt out how much the job would mean to me and what I would do there and how it would be a great opportunity. They aren't asking me that though. They want me to say 'thanks for the opportunity, what a nifty experience it would be to work here. It would certainly further my plans for a career in.....'. See they want an open gate from me, not a house and certainly not a commune. Approaching them like you want to do this forever is a no no - better that you show some gumption and lay it on the line. I mean would you want one jobber for 10 years or 5 exciting people squeezing something new out of the role each time?
Having just finished applying for a new position (not a paid job! Key word is experience!) I auger that the dreaded curse named wisdom may be weighing more heavily upon my kingly brow. This omen is a good one though as it means maybe, just maybe I can join my more reputable peers in the 'awesome jobs racket' which I have heard is run by either the Etonians or those people sensible enough to have had hobbies since the age of 16.
I remember a cold day in January last year, flying off to Prague with my brother and sister and getting that sense of warm comfort that only winter can bring. That however was dispelled by the trek to the hotel (we were too cheap to hail a cab) where we somehow managed to get from the bus stop to the outer edges of Prague at a time of utter utter darkness (friday night at 10pm...hmm). It was like Glasnost had never happened, like the shutters and closed doors had turned their backs on us as we stumbled on with our inadequate 2 corona map and a light from a mobile phone through utterly deserted streets. Prague at first impression seemed like a post-apocalyptic wonderland with not a sound or a car around. Having walked the better part of 4 miles through the streets we eventually crested a hill and found that.....the road just ended? It stopped. It was not there. One second there was road and then there was dirt track to the treeline on the far side. Well the motto of our family is either endurance or blind stupidity so we carried on, like Scott and Oates and the other unfortunate chaps I can't remember. 400 metres or so down the road and having decided this was fruitless we decided to stop and turn back. Yet in the act of turning my sister hit upon a solution that was elegantly delightful. She looked up. There, barely a few metres away rose a monolithic structure, a vast beast of steel and concrete covered in garish lights from penthouse to lobby blinking like a colossal christmas tree. The hotel. Our relief was somewhat tempered by the fact that we were told 'everything' in Prague was closed by our rather sweetly dopey receptionist. 'Everything?' we parroted as if this meant something far more positive in Czech. So we ended up divvying up two dry grain bars and an apple between ourselves that night as a survival treat. The orient express may have stopped running but romance is indeed not dead in european travel just yet!
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