I have read these words many times in the last few months and you may think they would bring on a short period of depression, or instigate some pointless pondering over what might have been. I can confirm written confirmation that you are not good enough can indeed be a touch demoralising, but at least you can put a line though that job on your long list of live applications.
Unfortunately I have only received ‘thanks but no thanks’ replies for about a third of my applications. Everyone else failed to respond, which is quite amusing when the job advert has asked for someone ‘conscientious’ and with ‘the determination to see things through’.
However the trials and tribulations of applying for a job are mere trifles when compared to the omnishambles I recently experienced when trying to become a teacher.
My tale begins with a website called myjobscotland.com. It contains the details of every public sector job in Scotland that hasn’t been earmarked by an existing employee for a friend or family member. I check it at least twice a week and have applied for lots of jobs, but the nearest I have ever got is one interview. Never mind. I didn’t really want to be a grave digger anyway.
As soon as I became a regular visitor one feature of the site became painfully apparent, which was that at least 65% of the vacancies were for teachers.
I had seriously thought about becoming a teacher for years, so with little else to do and a surfeit of vacancies I decided to investigate a change of career. I was prepared to devote a maximum of two years to re-training, to ensure I was still young enough to actually teach. Plus if the small percentage of children I like to describe as ‘feral spawn’ proved to be too challenging I could always go abroad and earn many thousands of pounds somewhere hot that didn’t have income tax and where discipline was somewhat more ‘traditional’.
Given the crisis in teaching has been reported on often, I had expected the transition to be reasonably simple and initially the signs were encouraging. It turned out all I needed was a Post Graduate Diploma in Education (PGDE) and there were two routes to get myself qualified: a year full time or 18 months distance learning. It would have to be distance learning for me and it was at this point it all went wrong.
The only university in Scotland than ran the course distance learning just happened to be Aberdeen, so I got in touch and requested some info. A mere three weeks later I received a reply that didn’t contain good news. It told me they had no plans to run the course 2020-21 or even in 2021-22. Well that was the end of that then! My hopes had been dashed by a three line email free from structure or punctuation.
Then two weeks ago I received a message from a friend. She said the university had changed their mind and that I could now do the course part-time. Bingo! Back in the game! I quickly got in touch with the university to find out how to apply, only to discover the course was not available to all. It was only open to people that worked for the council and was not an option for the average prole.
This meant despite the acute shortage of teachers and my willingness to contribute two years of my remaining life to becoming one, the only way to get onto the course was to be working for an organisation I couldn’t get a job with.
I have now come to the conclusion that becoming a teacher is like winning the lottery, going into space or getting stuck in a lift with Sarah Keith Lucas. It is simply never going to happen!
This being the case I decided to focus all my efforts on Murray Computer Training (MCT) and immediately found myself facing a dilemma.
I had several ‘live’ job applications when I started MCT, three of which resulted in interviews. Two of the interviews went extremely well and one job looks very promising, so what should I do if I find myself faced with the offer of regular employment? Take the job or politely decline and focus on my own fledgling empire?
In truth the decision is what fans of business speak call a ‘no brainer’. I have spoken to many people about IT training recently and one business owner put it very well
Usually I would be very interested, but at the moment I don’t know if I am going to have a business in 6 months’ time. Just keeping going is my priority just now.
Which is the case for many people I think.
A regular income must be the priority with the world as it is just now, even if it means I will have to put up with people in shiny suits and who spend all day with their hands in their pockets talk loudly about harvesting the ‘low hanging fruit’, wanting to ‘run it up the flag pole’ and who want to ‘take a helicopter view’. I do despise such meaningless nonsense but we all need to make sacrifices at this difficult time!
Which seems like a good point for a quick word about ‘the factory’. I have kept in touch with many of the amazing, talented, polite, professional, beautiful people I once had the privilege of calling colleagues. Some of them have now left, others have been made redundant and some still toil in Scotland’s version of the Lubyanka building.
Two things are painfully apparent no matter who I speak to.
- Those that have gone are happy
- Those that remain are not
As hinted at before, others are working hard to share their experiences so I will leave it at that for today.
One benefit of being unbusy is that you have plenty of spare time to read. I have found this a welcome distraction from the non-stop reporting of impending doom and the probable collapse of civilisation that prevails across all media platforms. I have also found the complete lack of balance or effective argument very irritating. Yes – things are serious but let’s keep them in perspective!
You would think they were talking about an impending invasion of giant laser wielding space weasels hell bent on world domination the way some of them carry on.
Neither do I find the advice we are getting very user friendly. What we can and can’t do seems to change by the hour. Shops are open, then they are closed, then open again but only for 1.3 people at a time. You can go to the pub but you can’t sit close enough to speak to anyone. Or have anything to drink. And you must go outside to exercise but it is essential you make sure you stay inside while doing so.
We try hard to do what we are told in our house, just like everyone else. We always think twice before venturing outside, have masks in every coat pocket and don’t answer the door to strangers or gypsies, but it is all becoming very waring. I think I speak for many when I say whatever the situation we find ourselves in and whatever necessary or unnecessary behaviours we are forced to adopt, I am totally, completely and utterly P’eed off with all of it!
The one positive thing to happen during the last six months was the arrival of our new cat. A few months ago we received a call from Arbroath Cat Protection to tell us they had a feral kitten. He would need a lot of time, a lot of attention and would probably never be truly tame. Always ready to take on a charity case the Domestic Manager and Alice immediately agreed to give him a home. I expressed a desire to avoid the sort of surprises a cat that doesn’t like litter trays would leave around the house, but my input was ignored.
A few weeks later a small bundle of ginger fur arrived and was put in a cage in Alice’s bedroom as she has a way with wayward animals. He quickly made himself at home and was granted the freedom to roam her bedroom. We tried him with many different names including Martin, Malcolm, Nigel and (Iron) Bruce before settling on Angus.
It was on the day we decided to let him out the bedroom and to introduce him to our other cat that he made a fatal error.
“Nigel has just done a shit on my bed!” was how Alice greeted us that Sunday morning after being forced out of her bed before lunchtime. “And he pissed!” she continued. “It went all over me!”
A livid teenager standing before us dripping cat piddle on the kitchen floor certainly enlivened a boring morning. When the Domestic Manager inspected Alice’s bed she was able to confirm he had indeed marked his territory with a double defecation. At that point I left them to it. Cat droppings are utterly fowl and I don’t get involved in the smelly side of pets.
There are however some questions to be asked of Arbroath Cats Protection, because the one thing tiger chops certainly is not is feral. His coat is neither long nor short and he is regularly described as ‘fluffy’. He loves to be brushed, lies flat on his back on the sofa and howls when he wants a cuddle. He’s not bloody feral. He a dud.
Murrays Musings 