For my 25th birthday last week, I asked my mum for a job. Not a massive pile of presents. No party. Just an actual paid job that I could keep for more than one day. Not an unreasonable request, right?
I won’t lie, job hunting can be soul crushing. Voluntary work is great for what it’s worth – it keeps you busy, sharpens your skills, and contributes to society – but when people offer it as a groundbreaking idea that isn’t filling most of your CV, you can’t help wanting to see the back of it.
So when my internship ended, I started editing for my old university, (re)learning Chinese, and applying for jobs. Lots of jobs. Come Friday 8th December, I got a packaging job. Come Monday 11th December, I unceremoniously lost it, and cried in my room for about two hours. Before carrying on again.
In the weeks that followed, not much changed. Step one: look for jobs. Step two: apply for job. Optional step three: attend job interview. Step four: either get rejected, or never hear back at all. Step five: repeat indefinitely.
Last week, while no different, was looking pretty hectic; you spend ages waiting for a job interview, then what do you know, two come up. The first one was for another Christian bookshop in Leicester. Just a quiet job in a shop, reading the books, keeping everything tidy, and trying not to mind when customers blame you for not having a certain book in stock. All familiar territory, and I aced the interview effortlessly.
The second one, two days later, was for a copywriting job with an online textiles company, also in Leicester. I dressed smartly and looked friendly, and still managed to misunderstand a couple of questions they asked me, and not finish the task I was given. I didn’t think I’d come across well, but hey, let’s put it down to experience.
The following day, I got a phone call from that very company. I gave some good answers, I was told, and my interviewers were impressed. I listened politely, and, with resignation, waited for the inevitable “but…”
Except this time, it never came, and was instead replaced by an offer of full time, paid employment starting on Monday, only three days later! If job applications are like Willy Wonka chocolate bars, then it was this one that had the golden ticket, and I spent the best part of that weekend in a daze as I tried to rearrange my entire weekly schedule in my head.
And now, after what (I hope) has been a successful week, I still can’t believe my luck. I’ve spent each day editing details on the company’s database, and writing product information to go on their website, and my brain is reeling from all the new things I have had to learn. I’ve also spent each day leaving the house at about 7am, cursing the unpredictability of buses, and trying not to fall asleep on my feet. But the nature of the work very much fits my skills, and I love it. My colleagues are friendly and welcoming, good at banter, and also creme egg and spoon races. And you know what? If this means proving myself wrong about my employability, and the world wrong about Aspies managing adulthood, then it truly is a lucky break.