March 2002 Issue - Essay # 5
That
Time of the Year
-Job hunting
in the deep, dark, dank of winter-
By Laurel A.
Nelson
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Trying to find a job in London during the holidays is next to impossible, especially if you're a foreigner. Sure, you could temp in an office for a bit, but when those slow Christmas days roll around, you'll probably get told to go home and not come back (Merry Christmas to you!). During this time of year (Xmas, Boxing Day, New Year's,) NOBODY'S working, and everyone (especially the people who hire people) is taking time off to be with his or her family. The major exception, of course, is retail. Quite a few of the other former students I knew from the BUNAC program got jobs at the Gap or went to the local temp agency for the office leftovers (and zero culture). I, being the enlightened person who braves to trek off the beaten path and dive headfirst into culture, decided that my time in the UK would be best spent in the British of all British institutions: the pub. So, after about a billion phone calls, (and phone cards) I eventually found someone willing to take a chance on this American. During this British of all British jobs, my feet hurt, I couldn't understand most of the patron's accents through the loud music, and (being female) I couldn't get used to old Englishmen asking, "Can I buy you a Pepsi?" No, buy me a beer. Later, as I waited in the dark of night for over an hour for a bus that was over an hour late, I eventually used all the money I had made that night for a black cab to take me from Notting Hill Gate back to my flat in Chelsea. I lasted two days. Then I thought, if everyone else is temping, why can't I? So I went to Kelly Services, and scored a prime position (it was five blocks from where I lived) in a psychiatric hospital. While I was busy typing dictation about conditions you only hear about in movies or on the occasional talk show, I was told that since the doctors had decided to take longer holidays than they had anticipated, my services were no longer needed. OK, so this is Christmas? And what had I done? Two
jobs down the drain, now hopefully the third's going to be the charm.
Not wanting to fall into the Gap, I walked along Fulham Road to ponder
my options. I pondered right into a coffee shop with a "Help Wanted"
sign in the window. I could do this, I thought, my years at Starbucks
will not go to waste! It wasn't a typical coffee shop; it hadn't yet
been conquered in the corporate coffee wars and still had its own little
independent charm with its fireplace and strange assortment of pastries
and savory goods (goat's cheese pie?). So, realizing that I needed to
pay rent and eat, I bravely waltzed in, asked for the job, and got it. Also, there was no fear of losing the position, for hot coffee and tea provides much needed relief from London's gray and rainy weather. Although it didn't pay a whole lot, I drank and ate whatever I wanted (goat's cheese pie!), and worked with a young, laid-back and culturally diverse set: two English gents, and four women: French, Spanish, Scottish, and my boss, the Canadian. My feet hurt this time too, but it was OK, because after looking for jobs in all the wrong places (and a lot of patience), I finally found the right one for me.
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Author's Biography Laurel is a freelance travel writer based in Seattle whose written adventures through Europe have been labeled by some as "enjoyable and moving," and others as "downright wacky." She feels the same way. E-mail Laurel at lnelson43@juno.com
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