Lunch Will Be Late!

I spend my mornings job searching; sat there, in front of a computer screen, scanning through various job websites looking for something that pays decently and won't send me to a loony bin.

I found something this morning, a job with a county council. I downloaded the application form along with the job specification details, went to open them and all I got was jumbled code...I sighed knowing that there shouldn't be a problem my end, Microsoft word is happily installed on my system so why the freck this downloaded document was being an arse...weeeellll... I e-mailed the council and, to their credit, got a speedy reply with a new download which worked - was I going to be lucky?....

No.

I spent the next few hours trying to fill the thing in. At one point I saved it because I had to read the blooming person specification details which, when printed off, became a pile of paper. I sat there, reading the bollocks, then went back to the saved file which opened as...yes, a pile of sodding code. I went back to the e-mail to reload the correct download and started again.

I knew lunch was approaching I could tell by the near-lunch-time activity noises coming from my other 'arf and my dog. Pressure seemed to be looming to get this damn application form finished before lunch because, if I left it now, I wouldn't give a fuck later on so...

I concentrated, filled in the straight forward stuff then hit the usual hurdle of, 'Please give details of how you meet the job requirements along with examples of...' blah, blah, blah and all that. I felt like crying, in fact, I did. I hate this type of question it's just bloody awful. Why you can't just send your sodding CV off which lists your work experience and details and let THEM decide if you have the relative requirements, I don't frecking know?! Anyway, I persisted - by this time it is well past normal lunch time, getting on to 1.30pm, and I was beginning to fancy that I could hear the stomach growls of the males in my life.

I finally got to the point when you date and sign, and was about to lean back in my chair with a relieved sigh, when I realised that there was more...ethnic and disability details and stuff...ahh!

By the time I e-mailed the sodding thing off it was hitting 2pm - over two hours to complete the bloody thing. I wouldn't mind so much if I actually got an interview but, the chances of that are sod all if past experience rings true!

On that note I received another, 'Dear John', in the post today. Plainly I am no use to anyone!