A Sort of Miracle. Sort of ...

Ok, so this is weird.

After 12 months of applying for jobs and, essentially, failing and getting to the stage where I would do just about ANYTHING for money (up to and including selling my entire body or selected pieces of it), I decided this morning to start writing a blog describing my pathetic efforts to find work and raise cash in 2010 Britain. Although - and lets be honest here - the blog was more an attempt to do something marginally more constructive with all my free time than playing games and masturbating.

So .. on the very afternoon after I posted my first, er, post, I get a phone call from a company (the one who offered me 2 interviews before turning me down) saying that they now had an opening for someone just like me (i.e. desperate) and could I nip in next Monday to discuss it? It was, as near as not, a job offer.

Delighted at the thought of getting work, although of course it is a job I will HATE working for a company I DESPISE (ever wondered why this blog is anonymous?) but ... money is money is money, and if that means selling my soul and ensuring that all that will ever await me is ETERNAL DAMNATION .. then so be it. Never let it be said that I let small things like morality or ethics come in the way of earning a living.

So .. this blog may have to transform into something else. Like the story of a man selling his soul to corporate Britain for a pittance and lying awake at night wracked by guilt.

We shall see.

An Introduction of sorts ...

Oh dear, where to start? Ok lets leap into the water and see what floats ...

What you need to know is that I am a 44 year old English bloke. Reasonably intelligent, reasonably normal, and living in darkest Shropshire (which manages to dissuade potential invasions from the nearby welsh border by having nothing of interest within it at all). 

3 years ago, I had a Very Good Job, owned my own home, was happily married and had 4 cats. 2 years ago, an unexpected divorce left me with no home, no marriage and no cats, but I still had a Very Good Job and, also, no longer had to remove rat corpses from the kitchen every morning.

One year ago, the Very Good Job also evaporated .. I worked in finance (no, not a banker, don't try to pin that rap on me) but redundancy at least gave me a reasonably generous payoff so the wolves weren't banging on my door immediately at least.

So, where am I now? Well, still No Job. Live in rented accommodation with a wonderfully accommodating girlfriend. No cats. And a bank account that is rapidly emptying.

Over 150 job applications (I gave up counting at 150); 3 interviews; one second interview; no job offer. 

When my redundancy happened I had wild imaginings of starting a new and exciting phase in my life. Perhaps I would become a landscape gardener. Perhaps, write the great novel of the 21st century. Or maybe find a wonderfully cunning way of making money sitting on my arse at home, selling second hand cookbooks or home made t-shirts on ebay.

Instead of which, right now, I am about 3 months from complete and utter financial meltdown. I am not eligible for state benefits as my girlfriend works, although she hardly earns enough to support us both. We have calculated that once my savings have gone, we will have precisely £4 per month to live on. This includes spending on food, and doesn't include paying my two credit card bills. At this stage, she may move out (to enable me to at least apply for benefits), but essentially I could lose my home and everything I own. In which case this blog will come to a sudden halt.

SO ... the point of this blog is to record my desperate search for work .. any work ... my struggle to pay bills with no money, and - hopefully - a fitfully amusing description of a middle aged man's life falling apart at the seams.

Oh and if you want to offer me work - any work - don't hesitate. I will thank you until my lips chap.