I read today that nearly three million people are currently unemployed, and these are the highest figures for sixteen years. There's a cheery start for you, eh? The problem is, I want a job. Just a little job, maybe two or three days a week. It's the vicious circle syndrome. Because of the recession lots of poor souls have lost their jobs and, because of the recession, I need one. Catch 22.
Along with many, many others, I'm a bit aggrieved by this situation. We're frugal people, hardworking people who saved whenever they could, which wasn't as often as we'd have liked, but we did our best and contributed to pensions that we hoped would at least remove the worry of how we were going to pay for the incontinence pads and packets of Werthers Originals in our declining years. In a nutshell, we did as were told. We were fools! We might just as well have squandered it all on beer and skittles and kicking our legs up for all the good it's done us. The pensions are now akin in value to a packet of Hobnobs (without chocolate) and as for the savings, well they should just about last us for the rest of our lives...as long as we die by next Tuesday.
So here I am, having retired in the happy knowledge that the future was taken care of only to find I've been taken for a ride. I now know, along with everyone else, that those who claimed to know best knew bugger all, and that they care even less, thus the future is the tiniest bit bleak for us poor sods who thought we were doing the right thing. Hence, it would ease the situation if I had an income and I'm more than happy to achieve it by the sweat of my brow, indeed, I find I quite like the idea of returning to a spot of honest labour, but I know full well that I'm not going to get it. Not just because there are a zillion people after every job, but because I have the added disadvantage of being an elderly-ish lady and, despite all those anti-ageist and equal opportunities laws, it's going to count against me. Fact. That's life.
Now of course there are hordes of people in more dire circumstances than mine, and I fully agree that they should get priority. The young folk with mortgages to pay, and children to feed should obviously be top of the list, and there many other categories who should be in there ahead of me, but surely there must be something that they don't want to do and I would. But there's a hitch there too, of course. I'm making it sound as I'd be happy to do any old thing but I know, in my heart of hearts, that I am not. I'm actually quite picky. I know, for example, that B & Q have an exemplary record in employing older people. Sadly, whenever I've been in there, the staff all seem so miserable I don't think it can be much fun. And anyway, I'm not well versed in rawl plugs and plumbing accessories, and I don't think I'd suit the overall, so that's out. I can feel myself losing your sympathy now. You're thinking, 'She says she'd be happy to do most things but she SO isn't.' And you'd be right. I struggle with that. I really want the workplace to be somewhere I'm happy to be. Is that too much to ask? Probably.
Over the course of my working life I've turned my hand to quite a variety of jobs, and acquired a couple of degrees along the way. I've also run a home, raised a family, have a clean driving licence and make a very decent fish pie. This makes me think I should be quite a good prospect as an employee. The downside is that none of the above actually qualifies me to do anything in particular. I can hardly sell myself as a mobile, child friendly fish pie maker. My degrees are in the Arts, therefore useless, and the jobs were so varied that I am left with a plethora of skills but none of which actually add up to a named form of labour.
So, you ask, what sort of job would I actually like to do? What would be my ideal? Now there's a question. I rather fancy the idea of being a Madam in a brothel. I know, as a feminist I shouldn't be furthering the exploitation of women, but I'd be the sort of Madam who'd make sure the exploitation was all one way, and nobody would do anything they didn't want to. I once worked with a team of highly intelligent, attractive young women and on many a dull afternoon, when things were a bit quiet, we would fantasise about giving up the day job and starting our own brothel. I bagged the job of Madam pretty damned smartish. I saw myself behind the desk, clad in decent black, hair in a prim bun, taking the money and muttering darkly about amputation of vital parts if there was any funny business. We thought we might run a teashop as a front for our enterprise, but decided the possibilities for confusion were too high. Some poor devil might pop by, genuinely in search of an Earl Grey and a French Fancy, and end up with more than he'd bargained for, so we abandoned the idea. Anyway, I don't think that's the sort of thing they advertise down the Job Centre.
I suppose there are quite a lot of jobs out there that aren't readily found in the public domain. For example, I recently heard that older women are employed in pole dancing clubs as House Mothers, to keep a maternal eye on the girls and provide them with a bit of wholesome care amidst the sleazy atmosphere of their place of employment. I'd be good at that. And yes, I know, it falls into the politically incorrect arena again, and I agree with you but I'm also assured that most of the girls are only doing it to pay their way through college, and I'd be on hand to keep them all on the straight and narrow, with homely advice and a pot of tea. Mind you, there are quite a few people, who know me well, who'd tell you I'm the last person to take advice from when it comes to lifestyle...or staying on the straight and narrow...but you must dismiss them. I think I'd be great. However, as always, there's a drawback. Apparently, the job involves rubbing through all those G strings, and I draw the line at that, even if they provide the rubber gloves.
Unfortunately, I seem to be tending towards a career in the sex trade, which even comes as a surprise to myself, I can tell you.
It's been suggested to me that I might try self-employment. But what as? A children's entertainer perhaps? I don't think I'm on any registers that would preclude me from the occupation and I like children, I wouldn't mind trying to keep them occupied whilst all the parents huddle in the kitchen, dulling the pain on pints of Chardonnay. Though I wouldn't be good with the balloon animals. I don't have the puff. Don't come to me if you're looking for a giraffe or a funny hat. Something resembling a limp phallus I can just about manage, but I doubt that's suitable for a kids party. You have to think of those registers. And I hate jelly so let's forget that one.
So back to the drawing board. I suppose what I'm in search of is a job in a vibrant, creative atmosphere that involves wandering about, having a nice chat and a laugh with all the other employees and going to the pub at the end of the day. Still not realistic? No, probably not. And you're going to get cross if I don't take this seriously. Well I do. I'd really like to work. But I'm a pragmatist at heart and know it's not going to be easy, and might prove impossible. In which case we'll be ok, which is a lot more than some can say, but I'd like to think there's someone out there just gagging to recruit a woman of mature years with top notch admin skills, who knows her way around a computer keyboard and could give their hair a thoroughly professional trim in the lunch hour whilst quoting speeches from Shakespeare. I could go on...so I will. I've taught adults to read and write, broken up fights between drug-addled psychotics, cared for babies until adoptive families were found for them, balanced profit and loss sheets, given perms, and done more peculiar things to keep professional musicians happy than you could possibly believe. I can cook, I can clean and my way with folding a fitted sheet is second to none. I make all my own curtains. I've stood behind a shop counter, can play the piano, very badly, and the guitar even worse. And there's more. You'd think that somewhere in there there'd be something that somebody wants, but I think it's unlikely. There are oodles of lovely young people who are experts in their field and exactly what an employer is looking for. I'm just saddened that age and experience seem to count for so little. And there's the advantage that I'm unlikely to want time off for maternity leave. But if, at the end of the day, I just have to bite the bullet and get on with washing those G strings then I'll insist on a regular supply of heavyduty Marigolds.
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