Curriculum Vitae

I can't sleep. I blame the way I've overwhelmed my stomach the past couple of weeks, either eating very rich food like oyster and foie gras or junky food like KFC and Dominoes or MSG-laden treats like Indomie (instant noodles, helped SBY get re-elected!). Must detox. Must eat more fibre.

I've been a bit (read: exceedingly) whingey about my job of late, mainly because of the vampire hours (was 6pm-1am the past month, now its 4pm-11pm if my boss hasn't ridiculously understaffed us) and because I wasn't doing as much writing (either articles or creative or even blogging) as I would like to have been. I realised the latter was entirely my fault and nothing to do with the job I currently have -- if anything, my present job facilitates writing more than any other I've had post-uni, especially as I can get things published in the newspaper pretty easily (they're desperate for content). The former still stucks. But after reading articles about the scores of unemployed people all around the world... I am damned lucky to have a job at all, and in a field that is relevant to my ambitions. I'm certainly better off than these young Americans, although they are not as bad off as the article makes them out to be. Plus, I'm here for other reasons too, which have to outweigh these negatives in the end... family and paying off debts.

I've actually had quite a lot of different jobs since I first entered the workforce way back in 2001, when I was 16. My first paying job was a sales assistant at Laura Ashley's. I quit after 3 months, couldn't stand finger-spacing the hangers anymore, or having to get up early every damned Saturday (oh how hard my life was back then!). Also, I felt I was getting disturbingly addicted to twinsets and florals -- I would spend my shift mulling what I would spend my meagre paycheck on. Awhile later, I landed a job as a sales assistant at a haberdashery. Made a bad impression my very first day as Amber Eyes had invited me to a party the night before and I had gotten incredibly drunken and sick and made out with his twin sister (luckily for her the making out was between the drunkenness and vomiting). I had to go straight from the party host's floor to work, slightly caked in my own sick. They didn't fire me, but I kinda sorta just left without coming back at all, because it felt like they didn't have anything for me to do beside look at yarn. I semi-stole the uniform too, as I thought it was the coolest thing -- a huge, dark green cardigan with large gold buttons. We were really into our granny chic back then. I eventually returned it, as I had left my favourite pair of black jeans in the locker there. I cowardly got my beloved Barbie to go in and conduct the exchange, as I couldn't face the benevolent, motherly types who worked there.

The next job I got that I actually somewhat committed to, was as a waitress at a pub near my house called The Hungry Horse. We had to wear bright greenshirts with a slobbering horse, wielding cutlery emblazoned upon it. The pub was also notable for its huge plates, also decorated with the greedy horse. Every shift, at least one genius would either ask if they could have one of the plates or a shirt. I told them sweetly, you can have a shirt as long as you work here. I think working as a waitress went a long way to improving my confidence, as well as giving me lots of chances to people-watch. It's a cliche, but you really can tell a lot about a person from the way they treat a person serving them.

I worked there for about 6 months and then walked out/got fired. It was when I was in the midst of crazy-eating, so working in a pub, surrounded by greasy food was probably not the best idea. I got really irritated with the new manager type I had to work under and just left. When I came back, I found they had imagined I'd quit and didn't want me anymore. Didn't really care...

My next job was in a bakery, the summer after I finished college. Again, a really bad job choice considering I was still a crazy eater. Had I known that working as a baker required starting work at absolutely ridiculous hours (more so than now even), ie 4am, I would never have bothered. But the manager was super nice, this young woman with a throaty voice and liked how colourfully I dressed for the interview. The perks included grotesque amounts of leftover pastries and pasties at the end of the day, free pastries and pasties for lunch and being able to sneak free food and drinks to friends who popped in. Basically a carbs-free-for-all. I think the best day ever was when the freezer broke down and I was going to a friend's barbeque afterwards. My boss left me take about 200 servings of cakes with me -- including entire cheesecakes, carrot cakes and boxes upon boxes of brownies and flapjacks. I think everyone on that party was sick on glucose rather than booze for a change.

Following the summer of sugar, I moved to Tanzania, and interned for a month on the daily newspaper there, which turned into a long-term thing. I started off as Cholera Girl, writing about how many people had died that day of Dar's endemic disease, until my contact at the Ministry became highly lascivious and tried to imply I could only get the "really good stories"(about cholera?!) if I spent the weekend with him out of town. I immediately asked to be moved to the Features desk, where I assisted the Features Editor with proofreading and copyediting. It was during this time I built my journalistic confidence, with features on local artists and environmentalists, as well as a weekly movie review column. It was a fairly cushy lifestyle -- as I was only being paid for the content I submitted, it didn't matter what time I came in every day, and it was fine when I wanted to go travelling for a month. And the little I earned for the content (about $50-100 a month) was more than enough for me while I was there, particularly as I lived with my dad and didn't have to contribute to anything (how I miss those days!).

I got my next job the summer before uni, shortly after returning from Tanzania, as an admin assistant in a learning centre. I paired it with working at events at the evenings and weekends, as I wanted to have a cushion of savings once I started uni (I really did try to start out right). During my first year at uni, I continued to do the events when I could -- either if they were in London or if I returned home for any length of time. I think I tried a few other events companies and bars but they were a lot more stressful than the one I had first signed with, really treating staff like cattle. What I'd really wanted was a bar job when I first arrived in the city, hoping to get great tips. I quite quickly was offered one at this cocktail bar -- the manager just told me to come back on a certain day for a trial shift. Unfortunately I was so new to London that I had absolutely no idea how to find the bar again... so I just never went back. Shamefully, it was actually in Leicester Square, one of the most obvious places in Central London! Ah well.

The summer after my second year (2005), I interned on The Phnom Penh Post. I hadn't been back to Cambodia since my family had left hurriedly in 1997, due to the imminent coup. I had been aiming to intern on the Post ever since I had become more comfortable at the Tanzanian Guardian. The experience temporarily put me off journalism tho, mainly because of the vibes I got from the managing editor and the other interns, who were mostly Berkeley journalism graduate students. I was significantly younger than everyone else (19 to their mid-20s-30s), and I think most felt that I was only there because I had a rich family (so not true!) and connections (I was staying with my one of my best friends, whose mum is a prominent politican and human rights activist). I guess it didn't help I also dressed very girlishly, in vintage dresses and Fly sandals, while the others wore khakis and string vests. However, I still ended the summer loving Cambodia, although I think was irrationally disappointed that going back wasn't the same as going back in time at all, and in fact served to emphasize that the past would always be just that... memories.

After Cambodia, it was back to uni and waitressing, this time at a swish restaurant near the London docks, frequented by the likes of Delia Smith and Graham Norton. The former of which's dining partner I thwacked in the teeth with a plate, but that's another story. I actually really enjoyed that job -- the food was amazing, the clientele was interesting (I liked to banter with them), the tips were decent and it was a brisk 5 minute walk from my house. In my cigarette breaks I could cross the road and sit on a bench, staring at the rainbow-lit Thames. Even when I gave up smoking for awhile, I still pretended I did, so I could get in some Thames-ing. The only shitty thing was the management, as usual in the catering industry -- the manager I had for the most of the time was a terrible womanizer who once cornered me in the changing room, demanding that I not think he was sleazy. (I had made the mistake of agreeing with my workmate that I found him to be so, and she had obviously told him without saying she thought it too!) I can't remember how I left things there... I think I actually got fired, because I'd come to work following a cycling accident in Hampstead Heath, covered in blood, and it was the final straw. I didn't really care much about anything at that time, the second year of uni was full of so many ups and downs (mainly to do with wars between my housemates), its kind of amazing I managed to keep the same job throughout all that. I just did some work for the trust events company I had signed to before I started uni to keep the funds coming in, instead of just flowing out, particularly as Sketchy was making me to go to India that summer -- despite all my money problems and exhausted state of mind.

When I returned from my bank-breaking, Sketchy-enforced Indian summer, I really needed to focus on getting my life in order, particularly in terms of academia, so I moved back home and survived on my loan. After the first term, having achieved getting back on track at uni, I felt like I had way too much time on my hands, plus definitely wanted a bit more money. It was really hard getting a job in my hometown, as they seemed to have an aversion to uni students. So I began downplaying my student status, saying I was one, but mainly a research one, so only had to go once a week (which was almost true, more like 1.5 times a week). I landed a job as a Publications Officer, for the education sector of the county council. I really enjoyed that job, mainly because I got paid for doing very little, and that was actually what I was meant to do. I learned that working for the county council (in Hampshire at least) means not being too efficient. If you do the job at your natural working pace (ie reasonably quickly), you'll only freak your manager out and create more work for them. So I just dipped in and out of my actual assignment and spent most of my working day on Facebook, which I was newly addicted to, as well as regaling my workmates with Crazy Lady and Guitar Boy tales.

They would have kept me forever, as my manager said I was their Office Jester and kept them all amused (no comment on the work I did), but I didn't end up going back, as I needed to take time off to go to Indonesia to visit my dad (the first time I went) and then focus on my exams.

After the exams were over -- and with it, my BA -- I fully intended to bum around, revelling in all the options now open to me. Unfortunately, I over-efficiently found myself a job within about a week of my last exam. And it was a seriously pointless job too! Again for the county council. I was ostensibly a Secretary. My job was to sit there and wait for people to ask me to do things. However, most people had no idea what my job was, so didn't ask me to do anything. When they started figuring it out, sometimes people would ask me to photocopy or fax something. I actually got some decent headway on one of my novel ideas, so boooored was I at work. I know it sounds ridiculous, that I would actually get tired of turning up to work and being paid quite well to do nothing, and even get paid to write my novel... but I did. It eroded my sense of self-worth to make the commute there and back to a meaningless job every day, so after about a month of this nonsense, I told the woman who most often asked me to fax things for her that I'd be leaving. (The person who had hired me in the first place had apparently ran off to Switzerland to run a chalet and make lovely cupcakes.) She seemed very concerned the office would fall apart without me, but I reassured her that the agency would let me know if they really did me again.

Plus, I had been unexpectedly accepted for an internship at Amnesty International, in the Southeast Asia department, and was also trying to decide for sure if I would do the Masters I had already accepted, and therefore planned to move to London shortly... I wanted to get in a few weeks of lazing/sorting time at home before then, especially to assist my family before they all made the big move to Indonesia.

And all that takes me to the various employments I've had since I started this blog: Copywriter for a romantic gifts website, Publishing Assistant for a finance publisher, Research Assistant for Doc (really imbibing a lot of red wine and eating chip and dip for a month), Personal Assistant to the Archbishop of Canterbury's Secretary of International Development and now finally, Copy Editor at The Jakarta Post.

The array of jobs over the past 8 years have been just as educational and character-building, if not sometimes more so, than my actual education -- particularly when I was at college (I barely attended, spending most of my time smoking or daydreaming). It brought me into contact with a wide range of people -- at any place I spent a decent amount of time at, I befriend great people I still (admittedly tenuously in places) keep in touch with today. They've also reinforced what I really do what to do -- which is to write write write and earn my money through my writing, whether journalistic or creative. I most want to be a novelist. Right now I'm mainly working on journalism. I'd also like to write for TV and film. But the variety of experiences I've had also have made me want to continue trying new jobs -- like maybe a camp counselor in the States, a volunteer for VSO, an overseas English teacher. Luckily, my main ambition to write pairs well with that desire for new experiences... its always worth having more stuff to draw on in your writing, whatever format it is.

I tend to excise all the catering/sales assistant stuff from my CV, following the recommendations of various agencies, but I still wonder if my CV impresses or perturbs potential employers. I've got a lot of varied experience, but I'm sure I seem rather fickle. Which I am. Hence the recent whingeing -- I've really not had to focus on any one thing alone for more than a few months (even with my degrees, they had many varied components and I did them alongside some of the aforementioned occupations), and I am pretty much locked into my contract until next March (unless I feel like paying them $2000, no thanks).

I also long for the jobs I never got, which now number into the hundreds, following my two months of gainful unemployment. There are a few that particularly haunt me. Of course, there's the big one at the Guardian, previously mentioned in last year's entries, as a trainee journalist. Publishing Assistant at the London Review of Books. A research assistant for a celebrity sex psychologist, writing up transcripts of erotic fantasies and researching international sexual practices. A sales assistant at Waterstones and at Thorntons. Funnily enough, while the first three were near-misses (warranting detailed feedback), I didn't get anywhere close with the latter two, altho I applied repeatedly, respectively going on about my love of books and my passion for chocolate. I even told Waterstones about the special shelf I had with "recommended reads" for family and friends, and wore brown to the Thorntons interview, so they could better visualize me behind the counter.

So anyway, I've decided I really need to focus on the good things about the job I have now, and adapt myself to even the parts I really don't like, like the hours. Come December it will be time to apply for new things, and I can likely add more titbits to my schizophrenic curriculum vitae.