As you may know, Skirt!istas, I’m assiduously job hunting away here in London. Many different paths are making themselves known to me, some odder than others.
For instance, given my prediliction for Wodehousian hyperbole worked into structured, cascading sentences, a friend and fellow Wodehouse acolyte has recommended a foray into writing parody romance novels along the lines of Rosie M. Banks’s Only a Factory Girl. I have tried my hand at a few lines.
Caitlin tossed her chestnut curls wilfully, eyes flaring with the pride of the McDonalds. Her family raised her to look for the simple truth, and the truth was she’d be darned if she would let frivolous objections about her lack of aristocratic background foil her plans to marry the Prince of Monaco. She would be needing a very silly hat indeed.
Perhaps my style needs some refinement. For the present I shall regretfully pass over that option, and pursue other avenues.
I receive daily job alert emails from a variety of websites. I use a range of search agents to alert me to opportunities in different fields. Nevertheless, my hunt for “cultural research” jobs recently threw a very unexpected offering my way.
Now, to be fair, the search function had seen the word ‘research’ in the job description, and the phrase “This area of East London has a diverse ethnic and cultural mix.” It was sort of listening to my instructions. However, this doesn’t mitigate the fact that the internet has sized me up and suggested I pursue a career in proctology. I told this story to a friend who summarized nicely: “So the internet wants you to be a bum doctor?” Yep. Nice one, internet! Thanks for the careers advice.
If any of you have wacky job suggestions, I’m all ears.