Before we get started, some of the more observant amongst us will have noticed the pink cosmopolitan blog awards icon to the right of this post. Do us a favour and nominate us! Please, please, pretty please, think of all the wonderful posts that have brightened up your days! Just click on the image and follow the instructions! Thanks babes.
Apologies, as always, for the late posting. I have been busy, being a columnist on another blog (British Style Bloggers take a look!) and being all grown up sorting out my work placement etc. Which brings me onto this week's topic.
So as we have all surely noticed, we are growing up. My most common conversation with friends at the moment is 'God, next year is my last year at uni! After that I will have to be a real grown up!' When I say a real grown up, I mean someone with a full time job, their own house, a dog and who's on the verge of getting married and having lots of babies.
(This is what my life is soon to look like, but with less false grins)
I am currently immersing myself in one of the above (not having babies, heaven forbid.) No, for my final year of uni I am to do a work placement module. Being the arrogant, self important brat that I am, I expected to send my CV off to ELLE and receive an instant reply with not only an offer for an internship but an offer as assistant editor. This was not the case. Turns out that me and half the globe want to work for ELLE and my CV got sent straight back due to an overstuffed inbox.
Since then I have been badgering half the written world to give me some kind of work placement, though I am perhaps being a little specific because I refuse to look anywhere other than London, London with an SW3 postcode. Even after securing a work placement it has been stressful. I feel like I've finally forced some bloke into going out with me and it's too good to be true and now that he is I'm like a psycho girlfriend and if he doesn't reply to my emails that day I get paranoid. I don't know whether to call, should I call? Or maybe add him as a friend on facey, no no no wait for him to add me.
I did call and my work placement is sorted, thank the lord! But that's not my point. My point is, what if it hadn't gone to plan? What do you do when your plan goes to pot? What happens when you don't get that dream career and rather than that SW3 postcode you get offered DT7, (yeah that's Dorset and we all know how I feel about that.) I'm pretty sure no one in the history of their life has said 'well I'd love to be an investment banker but if that falls through I'm quite happy to be a milkman.' I mean does anyone actually have a plan b?
(I'm not sure I'd make a successful mime- notice how I'm using children's toys to illustrate the post, as that way I can't offend any full time working mimes)
Went to see me old mucker, local bestie the other night. And she had the plan b of kings (though ironically kings don't tend to need a plan b with all that dosh and being set up for life and all that.) She has to be the most fickle person I know when it comes to 'what I want to be when I grow up.' It has ranged from teachers to writers to child psychologists and it varies daily. She may not know what she wants to do but by gum does she know what she'll do if that day's plan falls through. She will and I quote 'get head hunted by a travel journalism firm' and then pursue a career travelling the globe. How lovely, and completely water tight.
If you are lucky enough to just snap up jobs and liaise with Made in Chelsea stars amongst other celebs like one particularly annoyingly successful friend of mine. Then what happens next? Does your plan A become the back up plan? Do you just lose ambition completely and feel like there's nothing left to achieve? Probably not, I am just saying this because I am completely jealous that the last celebrity I met was the Mayor of my village who shook my hand on coming second, not first, second in the jubilee shop window competition.
(I think I could do Andy Sax's job, and we look so alike as well...)
In life I like to think that I'm a glass half full kinda gal. I don't think I'm a happy cheery optimist because half the time (as regular readers may have noticed) I love to whine and moan and be quite the cynical little bitch. However I do ooze self belief. I am naive enough to believe that my countless volunteer articles I have written, and my dastardly good looks will be enough to land me the job as editor of ELLE. But when it comes down to it, it's not what you know it's who you know, and I'm afraid my little black book leaves much to be desired.
I do have a sort of back up plan of my own. Though it is as equally unrealistic as my friend relying on being headhunted to be a travel journalist (I'm sorry sweetie, I love you but I just think your plan is a little far fetched.) If the impossible happens and I don't somehow wind up being the most desirable fashion journalist not only in the UK but the world, I will pursue a career in stand up comedy. I've been told I'm pretty funny and I'm pretty sure I could give Ronnie Barker a run for his money (especially as he is no longer living.) If 'Live at the Apollo' are struggling for space then I will make a spin off movie for the Harry Potter series. Something along the lines of 'Harry Potter and the job seeking journalist.'
(One Ronnie and a Martha doesn't have the same ring to it as the Two Ronnies really)
Now I can hear you all having your doubts, I know that perhaps there are a few holes in this back up plan but to be honest its my only option. I can't fall back on a career as a waitress because, let's be honest, it's too late for that. TGI Fridays will not appreciate all my writing experience, or my unenthusiastic approach to other human beings for that matter. My sarcasm and writing gift give me no other career option than taking Lorraine Candy's job. I also recently applied for a job at Gregg's, didn't even get called for interview. It wasn't even a swish Gregg's in Cabot Circus or anything it was just on some estate. Completely overqualified, that's the only solution.
Anyway I would like to dedicate this post to my very trendy friend, who actually doesn't need a back up plan because she got her dream job in London. I may have to avoid her for the next few months because I'm that sort of person who finds it hard to be happy for other people when I'm too jealous for words, but at least I can say it in writing.
Join me on Thursday (hopefully) when I will be discussing the very grown up matter of work wear. And then the week after for the even more grown up issue of babies (how organised am I, blogs planned two weeks in advance?!) Oh and don't forget to nominate me! See ya real soon!
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