Deliveroo policy and the rigmarole of survival have been a distraction. I have forgotten to keep you up-to-date on my quest for employment. While the mountain of rejections keeps growing, I have felt stalked. Not by a person or a creature, but by an ancient unerring axiom:
“Those who can, do; Those who can’t, teach.”
Encouraged by a recent article, I decided to pursue Primary Teaching.
This eureka moment struck me back in June, because nothing in straight forward. I embarked on a metaphorical 110 metre journey.
Hurdle 1: PGCE applicants must have at least ten days experience in Primary Schools. I volunteered with the ACE Learning Club more than a year ago, so that doesn’t count. Easy, I thought, three Primary Schools are less than 500 metres from my house. I cast my net a little wider and emailed six local schools. I got one reply.
September arrived, the emailing resumed in earnest. Hoping to combine experience and financial gain, I emailed an agency.
Hurdle 2: A minimum of three references! Let’s pretend, only for a moment, references aren’t pointless. In this “Gig Economy” self employment is increasingly the norm. As founder of SAUL INC, I’ll give my self-employed self a glowing reference. Alas, prospective employers don’t want me to be my referee. Deliveroo’s interaction with contractors is with a barge pole, if at all. If they, as my client, were willing to give a reference, what would they say?
Hurdle 3: One of those references should be a character reference. The suggestion was “a neighbour”. What the fuck are they going to say? “Andy diligently signs for our Amazon parcels when we’re out.”
That’s where we are at the moment. Colin, if you’re reading this, I’d appreciate any hurdling tips.
So, until next time, If you don’t want any references, Hire Me?
You can have my job if you like. It’s not teaching, but some people here could do with some lessons, and it does feel a lot like primary school at times, but without the playtimes and summer holiday…
Having a replacement lined up would spur me on to look for a proper job, one which would allow me to remember what a social life feels like, where I wouldn’t have to do two weeks work every week just so I can afford to keep coming here, and which doesn’t fill me with rage, contempt and utter despair before I’ve even gotten out of the car, knowing that whatever fresh hell awaits me will be just that.
On second thoughts, no, don’t do it. It was an awful suggestion. Sorry.