[ Note: thank you to Ronnie Salazar, Vic Romero and Issa Ilo-Cabiling and other FIFA Women’s World Cup volunteers! If you have volunteered during the tournament in whatever capacity, please write to us your experience, maraming salamat! Thanks and acknowledgment to “OG” for the video above, CTTO!]
“THANK YOU for investing your time and energy into applying for this role. ***** “On this occasion, we won’t be progressing your application further, as we have other applicants who are a closer match to what we are looking for. ***** “Thank you for your interest in X Company. ***** “We welcome you to apply for other opportunities we are advertising on our careers website that match your experience.”
I’ve been getting quite a few emails with essentially the same message in them. Telling me you may have the experience, skills and interest, but for one reason or another we’re not interested. Thanks but no thanks.
But as usual I’m getting ahead of myself, just let me tell you how we got to this point kabayan…
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BELIEVE IT OR NOT kabayan, outside of a 20-month trial separation, I’ve spent the last 15-and-a-half years with the same employer in Aotearoa New Zealand. In the same job, in the same department, in the same industry. (Why? is the stuff for another story, also being saved for you don’t worry.)
Whatever vibes you get from the inordinate length of time I spent with my employer, and whatever reasons you’re guessing, my time with said employer, out of necessity and otherwise, was good, and I don’t regret a moment of it. No ifs and buts, and it’s probably obvious to common sense that I owe a lot to my employer.
For sure, staying with one company for so long has been both an advantage and disadvantage. The two sides know each other so well, but at the same time you want to try something new. There’s also the age factor. The manual lifting component of my job means I’ve exposed myself to more than my share of wear and tear and, all things being equal, it’s probably high time for something less athletic.
What I was about to find out was, just because you’re ready for the NZ job market, doesn’t mean the NZ job market is ready for you.
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As maybe the oldest-looking (but youngest-feeling) job aspirant in New Zealand (for those unaware of my personal background, I’m old enough to be an unwed “disgrasyadong” lolo), I sought only two qualities in a potential new job: first, that there be no shift work and/or “killer” 12-hour shifts, and second, that there be no element of manual labor in the job description.
It goes without saying that, even if I didn’t get the exact same compensation I was getting in my current job, I hoped that I would at least not be getting too much or too little in comparison.
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I tried for everything. Applied for communications, call center jobs, even manufacturing related jobs. I was attracted to government, policy-type positions that required equal parts reading and writing. Confident that sheer volume would solve the issue of not quite hitting the mark, I went for quantity over quality.
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Guess what? After dozens and dozens of applications, visits to job placements and agencies, I got exactly ZERO positive responses, with less than 10% of the respondents even bothering to reply.
I didn’t come close to a second look or second stage of screening, not to mention any form of interview. There were either too many applicants, or to put it in Tagalog, napag-iwanan na ako ng panahon. ( I was The Job Applicant that Time Forgot.)
After one week, from supremely confident, I became desperately seeking, to simply desperate.
New Zealand has a very healthy 3.5% unemployment rate, but those are probably raw numbers, without considering underemployment, the informal sector (those without addresses or the homeless) or those on an unemployment or sickness benefit. There are jobs floating around, but the vast majority of warm bodies available are either unqualified, or aren’t motivated enough to apply for said jobs.
At the end of the second week, my already modest standards had gone even lower: I no longer ignored the shift work jobs, and if there were manual lifting requirements, I would bargain and lift only limited loads with lifting aids or assistance. I know it sounds lame, but I had my health to consider.
No such luck. The cheery and sunny disposition I radiated whenever I sat before the laptop was now replaced by a black cloud of self-doubt that possessed me in front of job sites that were empty screens of false hope.
At the end of the long dark tunnel was a referral for a ghost of a job ad made possible only through the closest of connections: a close friend of a close relative.
I got an interview, and I wasn’t about to let this one go.
More to follow next time, thanks for reading!
