Job Hunt

Like most uni students, I took a temp job in order to splurge on luxuries such as food and board.  Data entry, filing, phone calls, keeping the copier fed with dead trees....I clung to the dream of how, upon earning my degree, I would be able to instantly get the first seven-figure job I applied for.

As soon as Stupid Hat Day was over, I added the beautiful words Bachelor of to my CV. For some reason no-one was advertising any seven-figure jobs, so I forwarded my new CV to The Recruitment Agency and waited.

This Agency was of good repute and I was happy throwing my hat into their ring.  In less than a week a temp job came up: at The Recruitment Agency itself, doing data entry.  This put me in the unusual position of working in the cubicle right next to The Recruiter responsible for finding my next job.

While working there I would listen to the various clients who would come in and do the quick interview.  I would also overhear her tired recitals over the phone of "Didn't you check the address before you started?" as an endless number of recruits rang in and explained they couldn't find their new workplace.

"Great news!" The Recruiter announced one day, "You're the first choice as a temp at a Department of Government!"
Oh dear.  I explain to Recruiter that my father works at a Department of Government, and I will not take any job that results in me ending up in the same building.  Not to worry, apparently, this job is at Department B, whereas Dad works at Department A.  All I have to do is arrive at This Address and I'll have the highest-paying job yet!

Well, I do need to earn money while I'm waiting for the real jobs to appear.  Very well, I will report on Monday.

Because I'm pedantic, and because the office of The Department is only a short walk from where I am now, I do a quick recce of the address during my lunch hour.  Sure enough, there's the logo of The Department B of Government.  I note the entrance, the route to go in....all will be well.

Monday.  I arrive at the reception desk of The Department and ask for my contact.  "Sorry, no-one by that name at this office."
Uh-oh.  "This is 123 Address Street?"
"Yep."
"And this is definitely Department B of Government?"
"Yes, but I'm afraid we don't have anyone by that name here."
I thank the receptionist and leave the building.

I consult my print-out of the job and pull out my mobile phone.  I ring the client contact number: "You've reached the message bank of...."  So much for reporting I'll be late.

My print-out of the job details still includes the number of The Recruitment Agency: I ring them and ask for The Recruiter.  "You've sent me to the wrong address!"
"Didn't you drive past the address first?"  She recites it like the robot who just told me about the message bank.
"Yes actually, I went past it the other day and confirmed it is indeed a Department of Government building.  It's just the wrong Department of Government building!"
"Oh.  Well that's the only address I have."

I know in this area several other Department of Government buildings are scattered along the streets.  I walk to three: none of them house Department B.

I don't have a car and it's too early for a bus to take me home.  I go to my mobile phone again and buzz Dad on speed-dial.  I explain the situation and ask "Can you please give me all the offices for the B Department of Government in this area?"  Being at a Department of Government himself, Dad is sitting in front of a computer that has the directory listing of all the Government Departments, from A to Z.  Dad recites four addresses, which I scribble on the back of my print-out.

Address A is the dud address I've just tried.  Address B isn't far away: I find the receptionist but again, no-one by that name is in that building.  Address C is a but further on: still no-one by that name.  To reach Address D, I have to go back via Address C, towards Address B and past Address A and continue walking....  But when I reach reception, I have found the correct address!  All I have to do is walk the 20 metres to the lifts....

Before I go the Correct Floor's reception, I stop in the washroom to splash some water on my face.  All told I have spent the last 90 minutes walking the length and breadth of the CBD.

And the temp job?  I didn't last 2 weeks.  They asked me to make the tea for a meeting, and I handed in my resignation the next day.