The 9-till-5

Indulge me as I tell you about something embarrassing that happened to me recently.

As I am sure that you’ve already guessed from the title of the piece: it happened in an interview.

Interview is a very loose term though. In fact it was one of those New Age “pre-recorded” interviews where your computer asks you questions, and you are forced to relay your answers, solely whilst watching yourself relaying said answers on screen.

It’s the professional equivalent of that bathroom mirror chat you give yourself halfway through a house party, at the night-defining point at which your evening could end in equal measure huge success or dismal failure. I’m probably not my best self in those moments, just as I definitely wasn’t my best self in this interview. On this occasion, dismal failure was the sure result.

Ultimately my reviewer, who was able to watch the clips of me at their leisure, and most likely in their pyjamas with a glass of pinot, received a video of me trailing off midway through a sentence, stopping entirely, commenting to myself, and, I suppose, my computer that this was “a really bad answer”, and then eyeing myself up nervously and silently for the remaining time, having offered no comprehensible answer to the very simple first question.

Truly galling.

Besides the extreme disappointment (this was a job I really wanted) though, I afterwards felt short-changed. After making it through the initial obstacle of submitting a CV and covering letter which I assume had narrowed the field significantly, was the pre-recorded interview really the most appropriate next step?

::post[floatRight]{#the-working-from-home-mistake}

The supposed benefits of the pre-recorded interview format are that it allows companies to review, where there are very many, applicants without going to the huge inconvenience of actually meeting them.

Which is fine, except I wonder whether this peculiar interviewing method serves anybody, whether applicant or employer, very well. An interview should be an opportunity to see how the applicant interacts with others—what their manner is, how they respond to either criticism or acclaim, how much they really know, and whether they are likely to fit into a team. I don’t believe that the pre-recorded interview is particularly revealing on any of these fronts.

What it *might* reveal, is how competent somebody might be on a quiz show, on which participants are pressured into giving an answer to the ticking of a big yellow clock. Or something like that anyway.

I understand that it's convenient for people to be able to screen candidates at their leisure and without having to travel long distances. But the event of an interview is revealing too. Requiring someone to appear at a certain time in a certain place, in adequate attire, can tell you a lot about how much a person might care about the job. These points may seem at the same time obvious, over-fastidious, and old-fashioned, but they do matter.

![A young woman dressed in formal attire engaging in a handshake with the interviewer during a job interview|1000x62](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1684955506/post/job_interview_handshake_tqpf0w.jpg "Without sitting face-to-face, shaking hands, and making small talk, we miss the most telling aspect of a job interview; namely, how it feels to work there.")

Businesses won’t be told, and I know that I’m fighting a losing battle. Though the practice comes across to applicants as lazy, the rationale and [evidence is solid](https://essay.utwente.nl/62860/1/thesis_Bart_ter_Harmsel.pdf): using pre-recorded interviews results in fewer, and higher quality, applicants making it to face-to-face interviews.

So we continue to strive forward, leaning increasingly on our technological walking stick, into a world of perfect efficiency.

On a wider point, though, it is confusing. In the past decade, the HR profession has grown four times faster than the UK workforce. HR professionals now make up a higher proportion of the workforce than they used to, but the development of increasingly sophisticated online application portals seems to mean they are doing less of what has traditionally been expected of them.

Which begs the obvious question: what do these people *do*?

I know where my hunch points me. After years of engaging with the leadership of a top UK university, I get the sense that HR departments are busy developing their company’s all-important EDI (Equality and Diversity initiative) and chasing other PR-stunt initiatives which everyone knows are pointless. Far too busy to worry about the development and mentoring of the humans that they resource, and yet managing all the while to enforce a type of bureaucratic groupthink. And it isn’t just me that thinks so - last year [The Telegraph reported](https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2022/06/17/hr-monster-destroyed-workplace/) that Human Resource departments were taking over the workplace and wielding “growing, destructive and unaccountable power.”

For those of us who’d like to see our professional lives enriched by good guidance and sensible mentorship—which begins from interview—these developments are worrying.

The future is bleak then. Imagine it now: your first appearance in your new job finds you sitting down for a talk with “Chatbot AI” whose task it is to interview you; your last comes a few months later with no less than eight HR professionals, who are there to reprimand and promptly sack you.

It’s the professional equivalent of that night-defining bathroom mirror chat you give yourself halfway through a house party.

Why will nobody interview me?

Some of my friends wake up at 9 o’clock, snooze their alarms, reach for their laptops, open Microsoft Teams, roll over, and fall back asleep. At eleven, they slip on business attire - top only though - for a meeting. The “meeting” takes place, but their cameras are off. One person does all the talking. Everyone is assigned a task, and the meeting adjourns for the day. There will be another such meeting tomorrow.

The meeting over, it’s back to bed, with laptop in tow, to play around with a few spreadsheets until there comes an acceptable time to stop (in my experience, lunchtime).

This, it seems, is the new working day.

The anecdotes that condemn working from home as a facade are endless. “I love working from home” I overheard one day, “it’s the only time I can get the *chores* done.”

Jake Berry MP drew heavy criticism for [tweeting a snide remark directed at striking Civil Servants](https://twitter.com/JakeBerry/status/1620740455444127746). The gist was that the occasion of the strike was the first time for a while that the strikers had visited their workplace.

::tweet{#1620740455444127746}

Responses ranged from the disappointed [“oh mate”](https://twitter.com/lukemcgee/status/1620770353965568000) to an analysis of the [benefits of working from home to the levelling-up mission](https://twitter.com/Mr_John_Oxley/status/1621056540202467328). It was safe to say that, besides the GB News-style commentariat, the tweet did not go down well.

But although criticising his own employees might not have been the most politically expedient thing to do, Mr Berry was absolutely right - and not only because, as a source in Whitehall told me, the strikers had tired of Victoria Street by 11am and had slunk off home. No, it is the plain fact that working from home is just not good, and especially for us young'uns.

I know and understand the arguments for remote working. Working from home has been heralded as a fresh dawn for new parents, as well as potentially a long-needed lease of life for commuter towns and rural villages.

Meanwhile companies are being told that working from home boosts productivity. They are screaming it from their steel-and-glass rooftops. More meetings are taking place! People are working longer hours! Less time is being spent commuting!

Plainly the cost-benefit analysis supports the work-from-home diktat, and companies are buying into it big time. No doubt McKinsey brainiacs have done the sums - let’s cut costs by selling the office space, they say, and, because they’re McKinsey, it really does appear a no-brainer.

All of this might be true, though I do know from my own experience with remote working that certain metrics might not be useful in this case. A work-from-home “meeting” might constitute any use of conference call software, where in the office it involved a chat between two desks, or a trip for coffee, or an idea shared over the water cooler.

But putting the statistics to one side, and as it’s all the rage these days, let’s think about ourselves for a second and about our *wellbeing*. Let’s turn to the fact that in this country we’re in the midst of a mental and physical health crisis. Let’s ask ourselves why it is that the levels of young people between 16 and 24 who say they are “always lonely” are increasing. Or what might be contributing to rising obesity levels across all age groups.

> Professional friendships? Gone. Company loyalty? Gone. Office Gossip? Gone. Office romance? Gone. Daily satisfaction? Gone.

At times we have to settle on the side of an argument for which the benefits are not easily calculable, but rather because they result in a world in which we would prefer to live.

I love going into the office; I might even go so far as to say that going to work is *fun*. I am more motivated when surrounded by people with whom I share a common goal. I like being able to chat about meaningless rubbish throughout the day. I like the fact that in an age of intrusive technology, my work life and my home life retains a measure of separation. I like the half an hour commute in which I am able to read a book. I like feeling like a valued person, with co-workers who care about me.

I do understand the attractions of working from home. 

So I draw the attention of my peers to an analogy that I believe will achieve some cut-through.

We can all agree that Dunder Mifflin was an awful company for which to work. Paper and office supplies is the most bland of industries. I know of nobody whose professional ambition was to conquer the office supplies market, as the leading expert on grams per square metre, perhaps, or the most persuasive paper salesperson in the country. I doubt that you do either.

That was the operational point of Dunder Mifflin in The Office (US). The inanity of working for such an uninspiring company informed and produced and indeed heightened the everyday beauty of the program.

But that didn’t make the existence of a company like Dunder Mifflin an object for ridicule. We *need* boring companies like that - the world needs office supplies and paper to function. There will always be Dunder Mifflins, and so we need people to work in them.

So can we imagine the success of the same company, or the same series, when operating with a remote work policy? Can we see, at all, why anybody would be drawn to working for Dunder Mifflin? No we cannot.

Professional friendships? Gone. Company loyalty? Gone. Office Gossip? Gone. Office romance? Gone. Daily satisfaction? Gone. All of the reasons why my descendants will watch The Office (US) with a sad nostalgia, should the Work From Home lobby steer their cost-benefit ship to its ultimate destination? All gone.

For the sake of your professional and personal satisfaction, I urge my peers to ditch working from home. Workers of Britain - *Come into the Offices*!

![A British World War II poster of a woman in factory overalls standing with her arms raised and looking up to the sky. The text reads: "Women of Britain, come into the factories. Ask at any employment exchange for advice and full details.|1200x773"](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1676279543/post/come_into_factories_comp_wgpvni.jpg "Workers of Britain - *Return to the Office*!")

Remote working is just not good, especially for us young'uns. Workers of Britain - Return to the Office!

The 'Working From Home' mistake

:style[The 'Working from Home']{block="true" fontSize="54%" lineHeight="1"} :style[Mistake]{block="true" fontSize="178%" lineHeight="1"}

Do you dread going to work every morning? Do you feel your work is meaningless so you started doing the bare minimum? If you're one of the lucky ones that can reply 'no', I'm really happy you found a job you like, that motivates you and fulfils your needs. If, like me, that’s not the case, and you ended up in a dead-end job, don’t worry, you’re not alone and there’s even a term for this feeling of lethargy in the workplace: The brownout.

A brownout can be described as an early stage of burnout. It’s a feeling of complete disinterest in your job that leads to a loss of motivation and slowly makes you more passive and inactive. [43% of workers are reportedly bored at work, which makes them twice as likely to quit their job in the next 6 months](https://info.udemy.com/rs/273-CKQ-053/images/2016_Udemy_Workplace_Boredom_Study.pdf).

My personal experience with brownout started when a routine that once was reassuring and comfortable morphed into long hours of repetitive and boring tasks. I came to understand that what was expected from me was a series of meaningless and often useless chores. It feels like Groundhog day, living the exact same day over and over again, trapped between the phone and the photocopier.

![A woman resting her forehead on top of a photocopier, inside an office.|1200x800](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1675116864/post/mental_resign_face_zrekqt.jpg "Excessive work-related stress can lead to job burnout symptoms, leaving us mentally exhausted and unable to cope. Maintaining a healthy work-life balance can be crucial to preventing burnout and promoting overall well-being in the workplace.")

It’s the lack of stimulation. I work like an automaton, repeating the same simple actions without ever using my brain. No thinking or problem-solving skills are required; I was telling my colleague the other day I feel like I'm losing neurons and the absence of brain activity creates a sort of numbness when it’s time to think or concentrate.

If you relate to this, then I'm sure you understand how highly frustrating it can be to know that you are capable of so much more, yet experience mental exhaustion at the end of the day from doing *nothing*. Nothing fulfilling, nothing gratifying, nothing that matters. A persistent lack of stimulation and the frustration of not living up to your full potential. It can have an impact on your personal life and can contribute to a loss of self-esteem, or even depression.

Another factor that influenced me to give my imaginary notice is that my work was never valued, or even acknowledged by my superiors. I sometimes wonder if they are aware that it’s someone else's job to do all those dull tasks. If they are, I guess they think that the job is as valuable as the person doing it.

> It makes me feel small, but it also helps me realize something that my boss probably doesn’t want me to know; how pointless and unexciting my job is.

So here we are. The day I mentally resigned. One of my superiors gave me a very urgent job. So urgent that I had to pause all my little boring tasks and give it my full attention. I needed to print a report. *An emergency*. They pressured me to do it as quickly as possible, and so I was very stressed trying to print the report while responding to the phone, among other people's requests. I succeeded in completing my task in a record time and notified them that it was ready. The report stayed on my desk all day. It even stayed for three weeks before I told them that it was still there. They told me to put it in the bin as they would not need it. I didn’t get an apology or even an explanation. It made me feel useless and neglected. I realized that the stress and pressure that has been put on my shoulders, and that I put on myself at the time, had no purpose other than fulfilling someone's superiority complex. I felt so discouraged as I understood that my work and efforts would never be acknowledged and valued. The reaction would be the same whether or not I gave my best. Always indifferent.

It’s at this point that I understood that none of this matters. I’ve always had a strong work ethic and I used to try my best and put effort into my work even when executing less important tasks. If I was asked I would describe my workplace culture as toxic without any hesitation as it involves an overall lack of communication added to passive-aggressive behaviour and unhealthy micromanagement. I suppose that unconsciously I ended up blaming myself for not matching their expectations; I was constantly stressed about doing wrong things and was seeking validation. Then the report.

I started approaching work in a very nonchalant way. Doing what I was asked without giving it any particular effort or enthusiasm, instead, I was developing strategies not to be too efficient and I'm now an expert on looking busy when I'm not. I also stopped asking for additional work or taking up other people’s projects. I’m not staying more than I should and you won’t see me at my desk once my work day is over. I’m only doing what I'm paid for and I refuse to feel miserable and stressed for a job that represents nothing but monotony to me.

Eventually, I was able to completely dissociate myself from my job and I came to the realization that, unlike what I thought, it has nothing to do with me, it doesn’t define my worth or what I'm capable of. I’m simply, like you if you find a bit of yourself in my words, an interesting individual with a not-so-interesting job.

Corporate culture today is based on how hard we work to take personal credit for our accomplishments and pushes us to work beyond our specified roles has been tarnished in the last few years with the quiet-quitting phenomenon. Even if no clear explanation has been provided on this movement, the COVID pandemic might have been an eye-opener for a lot of people as it gave us what we’ve been lacking in our overstimulated lives. Time. We all had the opportunity to stop and rethink our needs and goals. We learned new things and connected on another level with our loved ones. We understood that there is more to living and experience than, in my case, making copies and folding documents.

I presume that the return to reality has been harsh for a lot of us which has induced a wave of people mentally giving up on their jobs. The present economic crisis has also led to this global demotivation. Why would we sacrifice our time, energy, and physical and mental health for a job that only gives us the right to survive? Writing this I’m wondering if quiet quitting is really the right phrase or if we are just starting to act our wage.

Is quiet quitting really the right phrase or are we just starting to act our wage?

On the brink of burnout: why I mentally resigned from my job

I believe in equality and celebrate any progress towards a fairer and more equal society. Naturally, this resulted in some mixed emotions for me regarding two stories in Scotland recently. First, to Dundee where the story centred around the appointment of Jason Grant - a man - as Period Dignity Regional Lead Officer at Dundee and Angus College. This caused such an outcry of rage that the story made it to [The New York Times](https://www.nytimes.com/2022/09/06/world/europe/scotland-free-period-products.html). A few weeks later a competition to design a statue of Elsie Inglis on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh was scrapped in favour of Professor Alexander Stoddart (the royal sculptor) being commissioned instead. Elsie Inglis was a “*[physician, surgeon, humanitarian, feminist, and pioneer of medical education for women](https://www.elsieinglis.org/about-elsie)*” who played a “*[notable role in the establishment of the Scottish Women's Suffrage Federation](https://www.elsieinglis.org/about-elsie)*”. As with Grant, the royal sculptor is male. Whilst much of the [anger](https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2022/oct/21/edinburgh-suffragette-elsie-inglis-statue-put-on-hold-bitter-row-sculptor) was in response to the scrapping of a competition already underway for designers to bid for the project, there was also a feeling of distaste that a statue honouring a suffragette would be designed by a man.

The moment I saw the rage online, I grabbed my virtual pitchfork and joined the fray. While I seethed and started to type frantically, a whisper of a thought flickered through my mind - am I a hypocrite…? Am I being prejudicial towards these men? That led me to the next dreadful thought - if I believe some roles should be reserved for women, does that mean ergo that some roles can be reserved for men? Does that mean that some roles *should* be reserved for men? I had to leave the pitchfork for a minute and dig a bit deeper into this one.

Grant was appointed to “[...implement the legal right to free period products in public settings](https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-tayside-central-62807683)”. News of this spread quickly this summer, as stories such as this are wont to do in our age of social media, and hit international newsstands. Scotland also made international headlines earlier this year with the history-making decision to enshrine an obligation, [for period products to be available for free in public settings such as councils and schools](https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-scotland-politics-51629880), in law. 

![Scottish women rally outside Parliament in support of the period bill in Edinburgh, February 2020](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1670350150/post/men_stay_lane_scot_parl_ccezxf.jpg "Scottish women rally outside Parliament in support of the period bill in Edinburgh, February 2020. Photograph: Jeff J Mitchell / Getty Images.")

Whilst the outcry over Grant’s role was certainly focused on the gender of the person appointed, Stoddart’s appointment angered many because those entering the competition had spent time preparing their designs. Would the cries of injustice have been so loud had the sculptor selected been female? We’ll never know. What I do know is that these two stories broke within weeks of each other and have left me pondering which side of the fence I land on. It certainly seems a strange notion on the first read that we’ve fought for equality for so long, to turn around and say “ah, but only one gender can do this particular role - sorry!”.

In the UK we have a statutory exemption under [The Equality Act 2010](https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/2010/15/contents) that allows discrimination against people with a particular characteristic when deciding who to employ. Schedule 9, Part 1 of the Act permits the advertising of a role and employment of women *(or men!)* only for specific functions which satisfy this exemption. This can lead to single-sex workplaces such as women’s charities that provide domestic abuse or sexual assault support and care, for example. Suggesting that should either of these two controversial roles satisfy the statutory exemption, they could have been limited to female-only applicants.

The nuance of roles such as a newly designated ‘Period Dignity Officer’ or designer of a suffragette statue makes this a tricky topic. It is arguable that a man, who has never physically experienced menstruation, will not understand the needs of the women he serves in this role. The idea that a man would be *mansplaining* periods to women was met with incredulity [online](https://twitter.com/thatveganlass/status/1559227753559474177?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw). The flip side of this is that for centuries, men have occupied and continue to occupy positions relative to female reproductive health such as gynaecology or midwifery. I’m confident that most health representatives have had the requisite training and education. They are governed, or are members of a licensed body, and are expected to learn and develop as they work. Perhaps Grant had special training or experience that made him the most appropriate candidate for this role. He, too, would continue to learn and develop as he worked. Except the [media reports](https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-tayside-central-62807683) suggested otherwise. Even if he did, it is [well-reported](https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/34878511/) that women benefit from being treated in medical settings by female physicians, and I would extend that to include the implementation of menstruation care.

> Given the artistic freedom available for a statue on the Royal Mile is likely to be limited, a woman instead of a man may have been a reasonable place to start.

Ultimately, the issue here is beyond the anatomy of a female body and its differences from that of the male. It’s the intersectional experiences of women biologically and socially that need to be represented. Ideally, a board of women representing the intersections of race, ethnicity and class, among other social characteristics would occupy the period dignity role. In the face of potentially limited resources in a public body, a woman instead of a man would have been a reasonable place to start. Ideally, a group of women from different backgrounds would collaborate on the design and creation of a suffragette statue. Given the artistic freedom available for a statue on the Royal Mile is likely to be limited, a woman instead of a man may have been a reasonable place to start. Fundamentally, I believe the issue is quite simple. Women have suffered inequality and continue to do so. As we commemorate the past struggles against inequality and continue to fight against it today, we ought not to further the privilege of men.

Without consideration of these points, it’s questionable what the purpose of the undertaking is. The gesture becomes a gimmick. The actions become performative, falling under the marketing department as good PR rather than a true attempt to implement historic legislation and engage with the local female community. An attempt to be progressive and undo the historical inequality women have faced, on the one hand, limits the role women can have in that progressiveness with the other. The idea that an organisation would not be prepared for the sort of backlash we have seen internationally to these decisions in Scotland suggests a wilful blindness to the true position of today’s women. It demonstrates an indifference to the work still needed. It screams that we have not come far enough and still have a long way to go.

![Sculptor Hazel Reeves unveils her statue of Emmeline Pankhurst in Manchester](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1670350588/post/pankhurst_men_lane_jvzenx.jpg "Sculptor Hazel Reeves unveils her statue of Emmeline Pankhurst in Manchester, 2018. From: [Sky News](https://news.sky.com/story/statue-of-suffragette-emmeline-pankhurst-unveiled-on-womens-vote-centenary-11580903).")

Ian Blackford, the SNP’s (former) leader at Westminster, was interviewed on Grant’s appointment by [Sky News](https://news.sky.com/story/scottish-government-sparks-backlash-after-a-man-is-appointed-as-its-first-period-dignity-officer-12674418). He is quoted as stating: “*[…as a principle, it would be far better that women are in these posts than anyone else](https://news.sky.com/story/scottish-government-sparks-backlash-after-a-man-is-appointed-as-its-first-period-dignity-officer-12674418)*”. He makes a valid point. As a point of principle, it would be far better. For hundreds of years, the loudest voices have been that of white, heterosexual men. Women have been let down time and time again by the lack of a voice and by being categorised as ‘less than’. [The research into female-specific health issues has been underfunded](https://lordslibrary.parliament.uk/womens-health-outcomes-is-there-a-gender-gap/), [the representation on company boards minimal](https://www.ft.com/content/e05bcfc8-bd8a-4bf5-bd5a-81b3e13fdfa0) and protection from systemic misogyny non-existent. It seems almost the bare minimum in that context to ensure a woman fills the role that exists to give a voice to the previously voiceless and to honour a suffragette with the furtherance of a fellow woman’s career.

It is performative to create a period dignity role or erect a statue of a suffragette if those intentions are not principled. It’s performative to place a woman in either role if they’re simply the face of it. It’s all performative if it isn’t backed up by action to elevate the position of women, especially marginalised women, in society. The first step in progressing that position would certainly be to put women in these positions in the first place. Was I right to immediately reach for my virtual pitchfork? I’d say so.

On the face of it, it might be hypocritical to suggest that certain roles should be reserved for women whilst being outraged that any role would be reserved for a man. Some might accuse me of trying to further the position of women alone and of having left equality far behind. I hope this article has shown you that this isn’t the case. We will never tackle inequality if we simply take the view that women can never have some privilege over men and that they should always begin from the same starting block. It follows then, that I don’t believe I am being prejudicial to these men and whilst some roles *can* be reserved for men (*hello, Equality Act*), that doesn’t mean they *should* (*unless, they meet the exemptions set out in law, of course*).

Why? Well, I’d point you to the difference between equality and equity and this [brilliant article](https://onlinepublichealth.gwu.edu/resources/equity-vs-equality/) by George Washington University’s Milken Institute School of Public Health. Essentially, equality means that everyone has the same opportunity or resources. Equity, on the other hand, looks more proportionally at the opportunities, or resources and ensures a proportional distribution to ensure a fairer result for all involved. Treating men and women *equally*, and never reserving a role exclusively for women without also giving men the same treatment, still leaves women one step behind. To treat men and women equitably means giving women that boost to give them a shot at equality.

Treating men and women 'equally' still leaves women one step behind.

Is it time men stay in their lane?

Stranded somewhere between home working and the capital metropolis, my flatmates and I took a detour to the pub. Naturally, the conversation descended into the usual mid-covid quarter-life crisis: relationships, the future, our careers and we have all, somehow, come to the conclusion that we *must* have a dream job.

This conversation was particularly topical as I have recently finished reading *Convenience Store Woman* by Sayaka Murata and of course, my flatmates were the first victims of my ramblings about it.

The very title of this novel, deadpan and literal, reflects the personality of Keiko, a 36-year-old store worker who felt like she never quite fit in until she was embraced by the warm glow of her shop’s lights and the safety of its consistent rules. Over the course of her life, Keiko has felt indifference to most things, always failing to “pull off being a person” - feeling like she cannot uphold society’s rules or measure up to her family’s expectations.

In order to remedy this in adulthood, she concocts a plan to mould the office misogynist into the facade of a husband to free her from the social constraints still forced upon women today. In a relationship that was doomed from the start, I don’t think anyone was surprised at how it ended. Although, the ending itself left me pondering my own future and more broadly, the concept of a dream job.

Keiko never had a dream job, she bounced through school and university alone, like a lot of people, with – admittedly – some very interesting behaviours separating her from her peers. She was made to feel different, forced out of the box everyone else seemed to so easily fit into. Until she was walking home from university and, fixated on the shell of an aquarium-like structure, became enamoured by the simplicity of the soon-to-be convenience store. Struck by the space, engulfed in its minimalism, Keiko finally felt like she fit; she finally felt loved.

And this love came second to none. In her mission to just exist, her false-fiancée convinces her she must leave her beloved store and find a job that can sustain both of their futures. He explains, “without a career or a husband, you’ll be of no value to society”, in coercion to actually fund his parasitic ways. This plan comes crashing down on them – or rather, him – when Keiko realises that she had everything she needed all along: her love of her job, and the love from her job. She listens to “the voice of the convenience store” that feeds into her innermost desires, guiding her to live for herself not for society.

We’re taught throughout life that we need to work hard in school to get a job that we love in order to feel fulfilled. Keiko drops out of university, Keiko has never been in a relationship and yet, it works for her, she still feels fulfilled. She lives in such stark contrast to the women we grew up with in the media – the women we were told to be.


![Book shelf](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1649926622/post/convenience_store_book_xu7yet.jpg "*Convenience Store Woman* by *Sayaka Murata.*")

If *Convenience Store Woman* were a film, it would fit neatly into the Y2K genre of independent women movies: exciting, succinct, relatable and with an omniscient narrator that guides you through our unsuspecting female protagonist’s life. Of course, following in this tradition would mean the film would be somewhere between romantic comedy and teen drama – somewhere between *10 Things I Hate About You* and *Clueless*. But Keiko breaks the mould of the Y2K Woman: she lives alone, she is not particularly ambitious and her main goal is simply to exist.

My flatmates and I pondered why we should have dream jobs at all and working through various theories, we were reminded of a video that posits the reason young adult women feel the overwhelming need not only to conform to society’s standards, but also to exceed them is because of the media we ingested growing up.

Much like Keiko, we have all, as women, felt the need to marry well, have children and forge a successful career. They explained that because the media we grew up with contained ambitious young women who go through social hardship and somehow still end up getting both the dream guy and the dream job at the end, we have set our standards too high for our own lives.

I agree that the media we ingested in childhood has affected our development but I do not agree that our standards are too high. These movies helped to set a precedent in the early 2000’s; establish the idea that being a woman does not have to be defined by your relationships or family. Keiko does not define herself by these standards either. She always exists outside of conventional standards and for so long, she was still constrained by these norms - by her family, by her relationship, by the *need* to develop her career.

But unlike in these films, as the novel unfolds, Keiko begins to define herself by her own standards. By what makes her happy. By what *allows* her to exist.

While in these movies we are still conscious of the career choices of our female-led male-directed characters, we are not in *Convenience Store Woman*: she is a woman written by a woman. Often male, often older, these films tell the stories of young women from a man’s perspective. Sure, she’s fierce and independent, but she still ends up a bored housewife with a life she did not earn after the movie ends.

We’re sold on the idea of a dream job – we’re sold a literal dream. We’ve been sold on that dream, as women, for the last two decades, if not more. We’re told to get a job quickly out of university, get a better job, get married and then give up the life you’ve worked for to have children. Keiko doesn’t need a dream job. Keiko never worked to find fulfilment, she found it in herself. She fights against the future set for her by the men that came before us.

That evening, at the pub, my flatmates and I reeled off different features we expected our dream job to have and conveniently, they all seem to match up. Enacting lives we didn’t feel we could control, everything became clearer. We do not actually need dream jobs. We do not actually need to adhere to these standards.

A whole generation of women have grown up and been marooned between ambition and the need to perform their societal duties. There is very little media from my childhood that I believe truly and accurately depict an independent woman. *Convenience Store Woman* marks a change in the writing of women and the perception of them by a new generation.

There have been incredibly strong female protagonists written by women in history, but none quite like Keiko. If we can unlearn what is expected of us and just learn to exist; revel in the everyday, celebrate monotony and put ourselves first, we can live as contently as Keiko does.

We’re taught throughout life that we need to work hard to get a job that we love in order to feel fulfilled. But recently, I'm left pondering my own future and the concept of a dream job.

Will your “dream job” actually make you happy?

Purpose. It’s a hell of a thing, right? I mean, we all have goals in life. Milestones we want to hit before responsibility comes-a-calling. But what happens after we achieve them? By all accounts, we should feel fulfilled. Satisfied in our determination to see a task through to the end. This obviously wears off at some point, leaving us with the feeling of: What do I do now? This feeling of unease is something a lot of us go through as we reach a certain age. Especially as we edge ever closer to our thirties. After all, we’re supposed to have this whole life “thing” figured out by then.

It’s not easy. But then again, no one ever said it was supposed to be either. Whether you’ve just graduated from university or reached a point in life where you’ve simply hit a wall, the pressures of purpose can always feel overwhelming. And why shouldn’t it? This may be the first time you’ve truly stared down the barrel of the rest of your life. This of course comes with its own set of questions. Is this all there is? What do I want to be? Am I doing something wrong? I mean, imagine trying to distil your entire existence through the lens of a few vague questions. it would be ludicrous.

The worst part about life is that no one can really tell you how to do it. Each of us is gifted with a set of inherent skills that will eventually determine where we fit into the world. Add onto this a mixed bag of good and bad personal experiences, and what we’re left with is a human being entirely unique from anyone else. So in short, no, I can't tell you how to live your life, but I can tell you how to find direction. To help make something so vast and unquantifiable as life just that much easier to digest.

Before I came to university, I had a dead-end job in the middle of nowhere. Before that, I had my first run-in with another university. This time I wanted to be an illustrator. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t for me. So I decided to drop out halfway through my first year. When I returned home I told myself I would learn how to draw on my own. As you’d expect - despite my best intentions - life found a way to put a pin in that. Since I was living with my parents, they asked that I get a job - something small to pay for room and board. After a year of unemployment, I was hired to stack shelves and sell rugs at an interiors store. I’m sure at one time or another we’ve all been an extra in that old tale.

What should have been a part time thing - at least until I felt confident in my skills as an illustrator - turned into a four-year commitment. Part time became full time. Room and board became a house share with two other full-timers. As far as I was concerned that was it for me. I had done it. I had the job. I had the house, I even had disposable income to buy whatever I wanted. So why wasn’t I happy?

Well, you could argue it was for a myriad of reasons. I wasn’t feeling challenged enough. I was perhaps too comfortable. Maybe I just didn’t like what I had become. I mean, we all have expectations for ourselves. Dreams from our childhood of the lives we wanted to live, the things we wanted to do as we grew up. Obviously it’s hard to live up to these expectations sometimes, but that doesn’t always mean it’s impossible. We just have to level with reality a smidge.

It was during my lowest point, when I - much like thousands of other people - faced the same existential abyss of “forever”. I remember a very specific moment that seemed to herald this need for change. It was a shift like any other and I had just been asked to go into the back area to pack away a shipment of towels we’d received earlier that day. This would happen every week without fault. I realised after about twenty minutes or so, that I had just been staring at this open box of magenta coloured face towels. I couldn’t move. I was stuck in an almost catatonic state. There were no thoughts, just the realisation that this was it. This was my life.

> If you’re unhappy with your job, I don't think suddenly going to the gym would be a healthy way of confronting it.

Naturally, my initial reaction was to just leave. Open the fire exit in the back and run home. But there I stood and continued to stand for another twenty minutes. At some point my boss walked in and chided me for not making any progress, so my primitive motor functions kicked in and that was that. By around six-thirty in the evening the packing was done, and since it was another slow weekday there was little else to do. So I stayed in the back and found something else to occupy my time.

This moment and my initial reaction to it was the culmination of those four terrible years. This perpetual desire to find the next thing to distract me and keep my mind occupied. The thought process being that if I didn't think about it there was nothing I had to solve - and since my soul had been worn down to its dullest nib, I was far too tired to solve much of anything. This took the form of drinking - a rather large component actually, playing video games, watching movies. Anything so long as it released me from the now.

It became obvious to me that I had to do the unthinkable and really take a look at my life and where it was heading. So I began by asking myself reasonable questions like: What are the tangible things in my life that are making me so unhappy? Obviously, this question is a little bit more difficult to answer so candidly. My job. Where I lived. My overall declining social life. I felt like I was going to explode if I stayed in that space any longer. So, keeping with that thought of small steps, I asked: Well, how do we go about changing that?

The most draining aspect at that point was absolutely my job. Now, my choices were very limited, which was good in a way. If I hated my job so much, I could simply quit, right? The only problem with that line of thought was that if I ended up quitting my job I would have to get another one just like it. Remember I still had rent to pay. Since I was a university dropout, with little to no professional skills, I would have a hard time finding something truly satisfying. Maybe I could move somewhere where there were more jobs available? This answer always struck me as superficial. A solution that was never meant to tackle the problem at its core. Now, don’t get me wrong, change can be good. But if you’re unhappy with your job, I don't think suddenly going to the gym would be a healthy way of confronting it.

So, what could I do to widen my potential job search? Well, my qualifications were nothing to brag about. Maybe I could work on that? But that would mean going back to university again, and I'd already tried that. And yet what were my alternatives? It hit all the criteria. I could - even if it all was only for a few years - get away from that house, that place. I could meet a whole bunch of like-minded people. And most importantly I could work towards developing a substantial set of skills tailored made for the working world I was best suited for - whatever that was. At the end of the day, what did I have to lose?

Much like those around me, I found change to be a scary concept. To uproot this comfortable lifestyle I'd carved out for myself. It all felt like so much work, even something as simple as checking out the universities. It’s hard to remember much from back then, but I wouldn't be surprised if the very notion of extra work after a long ten-hour shift was enough to call the whole thing off. But as I was already halfway through my twenties I would have to make the time or risk stewing in mediocrity for the rest of my life.

It was around March of 2018 that I sent my applications off and after a few hiccups with my disastrously antiquated qualifications as well as a whole summer of no news or updates, I was finally accepted. Albeit, so long as I passed their foundation year first. I won’t go through my whole university career, since we’d be here all day. And really, that's not the point I want you to take away from this. I’m not saying that university will solve all your problems. The point is that for significant change to happen, you need to really take stock of your life and ask yourself those often dreaded questions. Namely, Why am I not happy? Now, some people might absolutely be comfortable with their lot in life and more power to them. But if you’re not, then it’s time to take charge.

These decisions won’t come easy and might require a lot of work to achieve them. But isn’t that what life is all about? A series of obstacles to overcome? My dad really put it into perspective for me a long time ago when he said “you don’t want to be that old man on his rocking chair, regretting all the things you never did.” and I suppose when we’re young, we believe we have all the time in the world to make those things happen. But as we all end up discovering, life really does have a tendency to sneak up on you. And before you know it, you’re that much older and those choices you thought were so plentiful have seemingly passed you by.

I’m now reaching the end of university, and with it another four years of my life. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. Do I still fear the future? Of course I do, who doesn’t? But I am truly grateful for what I have achieved. And for the first time in almost eight years, I feel confident in my life moving forward. I’ve met some fantastic people that have really inspired me while I've been a student. And most importantly I found something - a tangible skill - that I'm good at. This has opened the way for so many different possibilities and even though I don't have anything lined up immediately after graduating there are so many options to choose from now that I don't feel quite as anxious anymore.

So, regardless of where you are or the circumstances you think are depriving you of meaning, take the time and find those tiny first steps towards something else - wherever that might be. They could be big steps. Or they can be small. But it’s better to be honest with yourself while you still have the time to do so.

I had done it. I had the job. I had the house, I even had disposable income to buy whatever I wanted. So why wasn’t I happy?

The dreaded question: Why am I not happy?

In my previous article we talked about how hard, but entirely necessary it is to find your start while enrolled at university. So, let's assume you found one, a real step up for you and your career prospects. A job so good in fact that you'd be a fool not accept it. Well, now you're in a predicament, one that's left you not only juggling coursework but important professional work too. Work that, if done wrong or not given the appropriate time and effort, can wind up costing you potential employment in the future. So, what do you do? Well, for me, I quit.

::post{#the-corporate-cog-has-crushed-my-soul-why-i-mentally-resigned}

I remember when I got the job offer back in November. A firm I was in contact with since August had recommended me to one of Bristol's most prestigious copywriting agencies, which needed freelancers to help with what they described as a "high-volume writing project". What surprised me the most was that I had already tried approaching them once before - one of those unfortunate encounters wherein I didn't receive so much as an automated response. Which, to be completely fair, wasn't a practice entirely exclusive to them. And yet here they were, a year later, coming to me and offering me work! At the time, there really were no words to describe just how exciting it was to be approached like that.

Obviously, I accepted. I mean of course I did, who wouldn't, right? In my head, this was going to be my big break, a chance to really make my name in the industry. So, a few weeks later, after all the admin was processed, I was given the brief, and on paper it didn't seem all that bad. It was a four-week appointment that asked for writers to draft and submit numerous holiday destination pages per week for a travel site. Each week, depending on the amount of work you were happy to receive, you were emailed a pre-approved list of destinations. How each page was laid out would adhere to a very regimented structure of up to eight headlines, with the total word count coming to around 1,500 words.

Writing out the first page, a sample they requested to be done over the course of a day, I found that it wasn't necessarily a very taxing brief - just extremely time-consuming - with my submission of the page coming uncomfortably close to the deadline. So, with that in mind, I let them know I could probably get around two to three pages done a week. Before the weekend, I received an email with feedback, a completely normal if slightly nauseating process with copywriting. Overall they were happy with it, but there were a few minor problems that could be fixed; such as tone of voice (TOV) and search engine optimisation (SEO). A practice that, unfortunately, hadn't really been touched on all that much during my three years at university.

With my fixes submitted, I was given my first real batch - three destinations that had to be drafted by the end of the week. Again not entirely difficult, just time-consuming. It was around this time that course assignments were beginning to rear their ugly heads. This was when things started to get a little testy.

Alongside the work I had to do per week, which often took me upwards of around twelve hours to complete, I also had to maintain a presence at university, making sure I went to classes and handed in the necessary homework that was due. *Okay,* I thought, *I can handle this. Do you want to get into the big leagues? This is how you do it.* But with that, as I imagine a lot of you can guess, came zero sleep, barely enough time to eat, and not to mention a fractured hand that I'd sustained a few weeks before that I was unable to have seen. It was all starting to get a little much, but for the sake of such an incredible opportunity, I persevered.

> When work begins to affect not only the quality of your coursework but also your daily wellbeing, then it's safe to assume that your overall effectiveness in this business will come into question.

The thing I enjoy most about copywriting is the chance to dive into a subject previously unknown to me and really figure out how that thing works. But with this job, I never really got to feel that same sense of discovery as I had before. Since every new page followed the same 8 topics. It became an exercise in monotony. As week in week out, I recently worked out, I would end up writing 36 different ways to sell a beach, and that wasn't even including the other 8 headings I had to write. The terms "sugary white", and "golden brown sands" are forever burned into my mind.

I remember one time, I had just finished a day of university and, naively believing I was owed the night off, I decided to enjoy a couple of drinks with my friends. Of course, at the very peak of my drunkenness, I was hit with a sudden stab of panic at the thought of trudging through another page, which was already so time-consuming, while trapped under the weight of a swelling hangover. So, with no other option, I stumbled home and proceeded to write out another page. While not the only sour moment linked to the whole ordeal, it was definitely one of the more egregious memories that geared me towards the mindset that maybe this job just wasn't for me.

As mentioned in my previous article, I like the intensity that comes with this line of work, having to figure out the puzzle of how best to communicate the brief's call to action. But when that work begins to affect not only the quality of your coursework, during your final year of university no less, but also your daily wellbeing, then it's safe to assume that your overall effectiveness in this business will come into question. After all, this is just one of many different briefs I'm eager to receive in my career. A sentiment I can totally get behind now that I'm free of it, but at the time, I remember thinking that the only problem with that mindset was landing a career in the first place, and more importantly, that this job was likely to get me there. So, without pause for thought, I continued to stick with it.

By this time my university assignment deadlines were inching ever closer and it was becoming more and more difficult for me to consistently change my headspace back and forth from "efficient brief" to "creative coursework". My attendance, or lack thereof, was also becoming noticeable to say the least. I received multiple emails asking why I wasn't showing up and if I was doing okay? How was I supposed to respond to that? "Sorry, I've not been showing up; I'm just busy with real work." Doubt it would've been well received.

The last straw came when I was halfway through my second batch of destinations. I was told that my sample from weeks before was still in need of rewrites, as well as what I presumed to be a whole list of feedback for the other three pages I'd previously drafted. So, not only would I have to produce the ordered content by the end of the week, I now had to make time for a whole slew of feedback too. Suffice it to say, it was finally too much.

> When you don't enjoy the work you do, is it really worth the money and experience?

Quitting this job was not an easy decision to make for several reasons. For one, I thought my skills as a copywriter would somehow help me overcome the rising tide of work that I was becoming inundated with. The thought process was that If I couldn't handle this, what else might I have trouble with in the future? What if I just didn't have what it takes to make this into a career? And worst of all, had I already hit my ceiling? Remember, my only real experience at that point was working as an intern, which was an environment specifically geared towards educating me. This, on the other hand, was real.

Second, and by far the most important reason, was the adverse reaction I felt I was likely to get from the agency for opting out of our agreement halfway through the contract. Regardless of the direction I was leaning, either decision, at least at the time anyway, would ultimately affect any chance I might have for future employment with that agency. So, what was I to do? On the one hand, I was so severely unhappy with the brief and how it was affecting my day to day that I honestly couldn't think of any other possibility, but on the other, the potential consequences if I were to leave felt so very high.

In the end, I emailed them that very day, letting them know that the workload was getting a little too much for me. And to their credit, they offered to reduce the number of pages I was expected to draft per week. But that wasn't really the point. The work itself was tedious to perform and required every amount of effort I hadn't already spent on my coursework to work on the same subject. I simply didn't enjoy it, and when you don't enjoy the work you do, is it really worth the money and experience? Not to me, evidently.

Looking back, I feel I made the right decision, especially when I was still tasked to finish off the remaining destination pages. How my choices will affect the future are still unknown to me, but after the hit to my ego had healed I began to accept that hard-to-reach silver lining that there are still plenty of opportunities out there just waiting for me, ones that are more aligned with my skill set. Leaving me with the important lesson of recognising one's limitations, which I know sounds like such a reductive thought process to be conducting so early on in your career. But it's such a necessary learning curve to go through if you're looking to make it long term, and enjoy it at the same time.

A friend of mine put it like this; of what use is a beautifully decorated train without an engine. Essentially, what might be good for you way on down the line, might not be good for you now. And while thinking long term is a very sensible way of looking at things professionally, sometimes it can blind you to the things that matter most in the present you occupy. Namely, You! Without you, the work doesn't matter.

So, look after yourself and recognise the moments where you've perhaps drifted out a little further than you might've anticipated, beyond the buoys of your career. Your happiness, just in case you needed reminding - whether meeting your aspirations head-on or simply taking a breather from the race entirely - is far more important than a list of prospects.

Your happiness is far more important than a list of prospects.

Why I quit my job as a copywriter and learned to prioritise my happiness

Job losses, quarantine, and the avoidance of most social interactions in the last two years have negatively impacted the mental health of most people, but especially the younger generations. Almost half of young adults now report "poor" or "very poor" mental health, while signs of psychological distress have increased by 10%. Symptoms such as lack of motivation, difficulty sleeping and loneliness are on the rise, and the same goes for diagnoses of depression and anxiety. Statistics and surveys paint a worrisome picture. But my question is another. Focusing on the frame, you can forget the details, the deeper perspective and the emotional impact. So simply, just how does it *feel* to be a young person during the pandemic?

The pandemic hit us during an already complex process of identity creation through which we were constructing our sense of 'self". During a transitional stage in which career choices, social relationships, and education combine to define ourselves:  young people "were developing their own freedom and space, and during lockdown, they lost what they had just started to experience." To put it bluntly, the pandemic "froze" us for almost two years while exacerbating an already precarious socio-economic situation.

> It feels like I wasted a year and a half of my life, - a crucial year and a half –, while the situation I will face at the end of my studies is becoming harsher and harsher.

Indeed, younger people have less economic stability. Most of us still study, and those who work have a less reliable income than older generations. Think about those family gatherings where your grandparents kept telling you that, at your age, they already had a stable job, a house and a family. Fair point, grandpa, but getting a job straight out of high school is far less probable, and most positions now require further education, which, regardless of sector, do not pay as much as they once did. And while property prices increase, the prospects of starting a family decrease. Supposing I want to get married and have a family, I live in a student house with three other people; how am I supposed to start a family with my partner? To make things worse,  other forms of capital – for instance, social and cultural capital - are less available for young people today. Frequent moving between cities or countries to pursue professional or educational careers negatively impacts their ability to form friendly or romantic relationships as they are required to reshape their social landscape every few years, either partially or totally.

See grandpa? This is why I don't have a family, house and stable job at my age, and why I am not very hopeful about all this.

This is the landscape in which Covid-19 spread. The pandemic exacerbated the feelings of hopelessness younger people might have felt in the face of the delicate transitional period they were going through and the 'not rosy' environmental and socio-political situation we envisioned. Still, writing on a piece of paper the words' depression' or 'anxiety' does not fully grasp the emotional extension of the phenomenon. Diagnosis and incidence surveys are important parameters but often feel too general or too abstract to answer the question we pondered in the beginning: how does it feel?

## What's the point?

Despite the "progress", our generation, whose reach spreads from London to New York all the way to Buenos Aires or Tokyo; who can form meaningful connections between countries or even continents; who is fluent in a 'global language' like English, and who seem to understand and master the landscapes of a global world the most, transcending national and cultural borders, is suffering the most. But why? The answer, I reckon, is 'uncertainty…'. I want to bring my personal experience to illustrate this point.

As a student, 'uncertainty' has accompanied me my whole academic career. First, when I moved from my hometown to a bigger city, secondly, when I moved to another country, and, thirdly, when I temporarily settled in Manchester. My university path has sometimes led me to struggle to build relationships due to these continuous and frequent relocations. I developed the feeling that these setbacks were the natural consequence of the times I am living in; that volatility and uncertainty were on the other side of the coin of necessary relocation because my passions and goals were not achievable as they were for my parents’ generation who had a stable and remunerative position in the country or region they grew up in.

The struggle to build a sense of community was the natural consequence of chasing my objectives. As an immigrant, I believed that building relationships was impossible for me, or at least not as easy as it had been in the past. The meaningful friendships I had built in my home town or in London are not significantly present in my life now, as my "community", and the resulting sense of belonging, is spread between different continents. And the more I moved the more spread it got. I felt that the necessity to emigrate necessarily complicated my ability to form a sense of community. In all honesty, I am forever grateful to my younger self for having decided to take this path, but living in five different cities - and three different countries - in eight years has not helped in making me feel a sense of belonging. Maybe, this is just my experience, or perhaps it is actually a familiar feeling nowadays. Nevertheless, the uncertainty is still there.

And from a career standpoint, uncertainty is still accompanying me… Where and in what position will I work in? This question is still pending for many of us, as often, passions and education do not dictate your career path. Many of us have no idea what we will do in the future, nor when and where we will find a sense of certainty and balance. It seems that our social, economic, and work position will be accompanied by a sense of precariousness. It is not clear where I will have to move to find a position that will sustain me while fitting my education and skills. Nor am I sure if I will find such a position in the future at all. Will l be required to jump through different employments? And for how long? Will I reach a sort of economic stability, one that will allow me to purchase a house, or a car, and, for those who want to, have a family? Such questions are just one aspect of my generation's condition.

In my case, Covid had a huge impact on my already stressful life plans. First, I had to interrupt the PhD research I was conducting in Cuba and go back to my hometown. And now I find myself having to change my PhD route within a scenario where employment opportunities are shrinking due to the pandemic. It feels like I wasted a year and a half of my life, - a crucial year and a half –, while the situation I will face at the end of my studies is becoming harsher and harsher. Hence the question, "what's the point"? In the last year and a half, I felt like I was floating in a never-ending limbo, unsure when and if I wanted to continue what I had already started. Will I have the energy to pursue what I started? This question was already in my mind before the pandemic, but it surely aggravated throughout almost two years in which all I could do was stare at the ceiling, metaphorically and non.

The meaning and 'texture' of my life and career are blurring to the point that they have lost consistency. Certainties crumble in the face of a psychological burden of this magnitude, and I feel like a sense of emptiness is devouring the pillars I enthusiastically built in my late adolescence. My career, education, work, home, life goals and future have slowly been emptied of their ontological consistency and now lie there as a vestigial casing of what they once were. They are still there, nominally at least, but empty, meaningless. Mirages, reflections, refractions, you shall call them the way you prefer. If I try to reach out with my hands to grasp them, they move away, and the further I try to reach them, the further they move away. An endless chase if you will, or disenchantment even. Once, they would stand there as parameters of my life trajectory, for better or worse. They gave coordinates, traced movement, provided a certain meaning, or at least they constructed the canvas through which we live. This is where, I believe, the pandemic became the most vicious. It reached my generation in a period of our lives in which we were - and still are - trying to juggle through these concepts to understand what they meant to us and how we wanted to shape them for ourselves. Exactly when we were trying to make some sense of all of this, the pandemic stuck everything in limbo.

In all honesty, these concepts were probably never solid in the first place, their meaning and position in our lives vary greatly, and we relied on them even if we realised they were relative and not absolute. Whether you want to settle down somewhere or you feel more nomadic, whether you want a marriage and children or not, whether you prefer a 9-to-5 job or a more fluid one, these factors do not define your worth or your achievements, and each of these options has value. Career, education, work, home, and life goals can take different forms for different people, they could be parameters to track your achievements but they do not necessarily have to. But even if I were perfectly aware of their contingent character all this time, I now perceive their emptiness not just logically but also emotionally. Covid made us not just think about uncertainty, it made us feel it. I learned those are two very different things.

It feels like I wasted a year and a half of my life, while the situation I will face at the end of my studies is becoming harsher and harsher.


Why my generation is going insane: the impact of COVID on mental health

I think it's fair to say that there's more than enough going on at university to keep a student distracted. What with all the coursework and near-limitless diversions on offer, it can be difficult to keep your eyes on the prize. I mean, when you think about it, why are you there to begin with? What's the end goal? To get a job, right?

I think we all know this when we first start. For others, it might be more of an opportunity to get to know yourself better in an environment that can support and inspire you. But maybe down the line, we all get a little swept up in the infamous university lifestyle. Hey, if you're going to be spending upwards of a small fortune, you may as well enjoy it. But there comes a time when the work has to begin, otherwise what was it all for?

So, enough preamble. You want to know how an internship changed everything. Well, it all started during my first year. Freshers week had just come to a close and I was ready to drop the double fists of vodka mixers and do some actual learning. My reasons for enrolling were numerous, but the one that trumped all else was becoming a screenwriter. After narrowly avoiding a retake of the foundation year, I was finally taking the course of my dreams. One of the modules we had to take during our first term was copywriting; not the law surrounding intellectual properties but, in essence, the art of persuasion. Think Mad Men, without the fancy suits.

![Stephen King|1200x675](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1638915974/post/internship_steven_king_ro9bbt.png "I had never considered the reality of life beyond university. We all want a career in fiction or journalism. But while we may be the next Stephen King, we first have to pay the bills.")

I will always remember the first thing our teacher told us as we all found our seats. He asked us to raise our hands if we wanted a career in fiction or journalism, you know, the good stuff. Naturally, I raised my hand. After all, nobody chooses to be a copywriter. Hell, I hadn't even heard the term until I saw it written on our prospectus. He followed on by telling us that, while we may be the next Stephen King, we first had to pay the bills.

Even though it sounds a little naïve in hindsight, it was the first time I had ever considered the reality of life beyond university. How could I? It seemed so far away, and I still had so much to learn. Thanks to him, I now had the ever-present image of instant unemployment looming overhead. From then on, I knew what I had to do to ensure I wouldn't become just another postgraduate loser. I was going to be a copywriter.

> I knew what I had to do to ensure I wouldn't become just another postgraduate loser.

Fast forward 12 months, and I had just begun my second year. Before I knew it, there were already whispers in the wind about the following sandwich year and how important it was to get a head start on the search. Early attempts at trawling the job market sounded reasonable —definitely good advice for a young student. Only, I had no idea where to even start, especially with something as amorphous as copywriting. After getting little help from my campus' careers office, I decided my best option was to look around various websites on offer in hopes of discovering any little tidbit that might help me. All I needed was the right direction.

I compiled a list of copywriting and advertising firms that I had found in my area, which wasn't much, and proceeded to send out the most amateur emails. You know the ones. The dreaded, "Hi there, my name is Liam. I am a student at blah blah blah, and I would like a placement at so and so." As you'd expect, I didn't get a lot of responses. The ones I did get told me that, due to it being at the height of the pandemic, there was no way of knowing if they were even allowed to run the scheme by next year, let alone guarantee me a spot. But that didn't stop me.

For the next few months, I continued to reach out to people, using the many professional platforms available to get my foot in as many doors as possible. Until finally, I got an offer. I had received an email from quite a respectable firm in the Bristol copy scene. With all the practice I'd had over the last five months, it seemed my emailing skills had significantly improved. A skill I will absolutely touch upon more in a future article.

After meeting with them on Zoom for a quick chat and a casual interview, I was locked into a four-week internship for the summer. It wasn't a placement, mind, but it was an opportunity. And as I've come to learn in this business, just say yes to everything. It might not sound great at first or is in no way relevant to your career goals, but you never know what might come of it.

You'd think that would be it. I finally had my chance. But what came next was what happens to a lot of young people in my position. The sudden realisation that I had just convinced a professional firm that I was in any way competent. Yes, imposter syndrome is a very real thing, and I had it hard. After finishing my second year, I spent the rest of my summer break studying up on what a copywriting firm actually did with their day. Thankfully, there was plenty of material to sift through, including lists of content copywriters were likely to produce. Things like white papers, blog posts, newsletters, even websites.

It was a week before I started when I received another email from the company's head to have a small introduction of my duties while there. To my relief, the atmosphere presented seemed pretty casual, and more importantly, they knew that I was there to learn. So, any mistakes I was likely to make were to be expected.

![Copywriting|1200x720](https://res.cloudinary.com/fledger/image/upload/v1638915973/post/internship_copywriting_qnnb7c.png "Copywriting is the act of writing text for the purpose of advertising or other forms of marketing. The product, called \"copy\", is written content that aims to increase brand awareness and ultimately persuade a person or group to take a particular action.")

My first day was very intense. But it wasn't as though I was run ragged or anything, more that the information I was processing was unlike anything I had previously experienced. That feeling of overwhelming pressure would eventually fade. As an agency intern, the average week for me, as opposed to a freelancer, started with a group meeting. Nothing too serious. A quick rundown of how your weekend went and an update on any outstanding copy you might be working on. It all felt very warm and inviting.

After the meeting, I was introduced to my first client; a digital training platform that needed help convincing educators to transfer their systems onto their platform. This was an excellent choice, in my opinion. They made it very clear that, due to the writing samples I had sent them, I seemed prone to expressive and colourful language. So, by giving me this as my first brief, they were tempering my expectations of what I might've imagined a copywriter would spend most of their time working on. Something like a few slogans or car commercials. Again, Mad Men. I think this is a critical lesson when it comes to realising your dream job, and one that I feel is often overlooked or not properly discussed in length. That is, in the end, it's still just a job that requires a lot of time and effort. Managing expectations and deromanticising your job early on can save you from many potential disappointments later down the road. You build this idea in your head of what it will be like, and when it isn't, you can often begin to question a lot of your choices. Is this who I want to be? If not, what else can I do? Have I wasted my time?

If you're given an opportunity to work on placement or an internship at any point, I'd highly recommend taking a journal with you. Being able to see a physical record of you changing and adapting to your job, as well as recognising that rising confidence in your voice as the weeks go on, can really make you feel incredible. Not to mention coming to grips with an increasing workload without it even phasing you. By the end of my internship, I was producing content like nobody's business. I honestly felt addicted to the intensity. Waking up, getting to work, trying to figure out the puzzle that was my next brief. How do I get the intended message across as efficiently and creatively as possible? I was in love with it.

And then before I knew it, it was over. My stint in Adland, much like a fantastic holiday, was nothing more than a memory. The worst part out of all of it was just going back to waiting for the summer break to end like none of it had even happened. My deployment was over, and I was back to being a civvie. I did manage to use that excess energy to pump up my resume as well as tinker with some professional profiles.

You can perhaps see where this is going. I went back to university and all of a sudden, I felt like I was back in primary school. Nobody, aside from the teachers maybe, had experienced what I had. I felt like I was hitting the brakes hard; forced to remain at this frustratingly slow pace until everyone had sufficiently caught up with me. Copywriting classes were a breeze. I could bust out a brief in a single afternoon. But, honestly, it felt kind of lonely to have that separation, even if it was all me.

And while this all might seem a little arrogant and self-aggrandising, there is nothing wrong with feeling confident in your own skills. Least of all in a competitive industry like writing. If university has taught me anything, it's that nothing will be handed to you, apart from a diploma. There's no job hidden in your gown or underneath your cap. To be successful, you need to make the most of the time that's on offer while you still have the financial support. Because once it's over, and that university bubble finally pops, you're going to wish you made the most of it while you still had the chance.

There's no job hidden underneath your gown. Once the university bubble pops, you're going to wish you made the most of it whilst you still had the chance.