Confessions of a Jobless Graduate 2

I am going to blog for The Skinny on this topic.  Currently messing around with a couple of different angles on it because the following is a bit too long.  It’s a piece about a typical day as an unemployed recent graduate in a new flat, as well as being one of the things that got me a meeting with the blogs editor.  You may notice I have used part of it before.

As the unemployed member of the household, it is my job to field visits from the unusual handyman.

Scene OneKitchen. Flatmate’s boyfriend makes tea, I re-lace a shoe. Enter Unusual Handyman.

Unusual Handyman: [in an accent so impenetrable even he probably doesn’t know what it is] mmmphgarnyadblah locked door flumedeygramphleyumyumyjellybibbles BURN TAE DEATH, ken?
Me: …Okay.

Exit UH.

Me: What did he say?
Flatmate’s BF: I don’t think even he knows that.

Mumbling offstage as we drink our tea in bemused silence.

Enter UH

UH: Yumblenblah – back tomorrow – mimble – light fitting – yumptyfacks – aff the wa’! [gestures offstage in the direction of my room] S’dangerous! Veryfastincomprehensiblesomethingorother I got tae be here.
Me: You’ve got to be here?
UH: [in a voice laced with mysterious hidden subtext] I’m authorised.
Scene Twomy room. The light switch, previously fine, is now hanging dangerously from the wall.
Flatmate’s BF: [calling from offstage] So, is the light fitting off?
Me: [disbelieving] …Yeah. It is.

Sadly though, visits from the pony-tailed misanthrope are too infrequent to make me completely forget how bored I am of job applications.

As I blogged in August, two months after graduating,

“My CV now available on s1, guardian jobs, denholm and reed.co.uk.  I check job listings on over twenty sites (from media-specific to job centre to individual employers) daily. On stolen internet. But I’m not getting any feedback, and it’s raining, and our shower’s trying to kill us.”

This is no exaggeration – the shower really was trying to kill us.  Sparks kept flying out of it, and for several days we had to press the ‘on’ switch with a wooden spoon for fear of electrocution.  But the unusual handyman was more concerned about the fact that we took our shoes off at the front door.  It’s a fire hazard, apparently…

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