Rarely have I felt more rejected than during the not-as-brief-as-I-might-have-hoped period between university graduation and ‘first real job’.
With a degree in my hot little hands, I poured coffee, waited tables and answered phones, among other things, before a game newspaper editor gave an educated but inexperienced wannabe journalist a break. Phew.
That was more than five years ago and I have since managed to avoid returning to the black hole of unemployment. Until now.
I am in London. I have only been here two weeks but the pound is already demolishing my Australian savings. I must find a job.
I didn't expect it to be easy and it hasn't been. Today I got an email from a recruitment agency I had earlier sent my resume to. It was hard to swallow.
Thank you for your email.
Unfortuantley (sic) we are not in a postion (sic) to help you as we do not get roles like your (sic) in. Your (sic) best to approach companies direct or agent that specialise in media (sic, sic, sic).
Rejection is tough. Even tougher when the rejector (yes, i know, sic) is a moron.