If you haven’t already guessed from the title of this blog entry, yes, I am looking for a full-time job right now. Well, perhaps let me rewind and recount what’s been going on in my life so far.
So I quit my editorial job in Hong Kong and the idea was to return to Singapore – which I’ve done – to take up a course in lymphatic drainage massage and aromatherapy for six months while trying to get freelance editorial and writing work.
I’ve started on the lymphatic drainage course and find it very interesting, but unfortunately I also realise that I can’t make enough moolah out of massage therapy and freelance writing and editing. Writing’s a tough business and it’s often a chicken and egg situation. People want to publish only writers that have been published. But how do you get published when you never get that break?
I had thought I had it all figured out. So I miscalculated this time and my leap of faith was a tad too big for my feet. I’ve fallen flat on my face and have been slapped with a reality check. So now I have to pick myself up and soldier on. And then I’ve been thinking about my financial status – or lack thereof. For someone my age, my bank account balance is pretty darn pathetic. My only consolation and silver lining is that I’m not in any form of debt. But I’ve been thinking more about grown-up stuff like buying a government flat when I turn 35. The Singapore government allows singles aged 35 and above to buy a small government flat. In order to buy one, I’d have to be employed on a full-time basis for the next three years else no bank would loan me any money when the time comes for me to be eligible to buy one.
I’ve reconciled myself to the need of being an office drone with a decent salary. I have too many interests (a bit schizo in that aspect) which I want to pursue and I need money to let me continue to fuel those interests. Hence the need for a full-time job as a worker bee. Lucky are the people whose work converges with their passion(s). Few of us have that merge and I think nine out of ten people will tell you they don’t exactly LOVE what they do. Work so far has been more of a means to an end for me.
The other day, my friend, J, and I were chatting over MSN. Both of us are in the same situation at the moment in our respective homes. He’s looking for work in Sydney after returning home from a three-month holiday in Europe. The job-hunting process is a tiring one and it’s almost like a full-time job in itself! J then likened job-hunting to casual dating.
Think about it – both are actually pretty similar. When looking for a job, you have to go through interviews. Casual dating also requires you to answer questions posed by others and you’re judged upon your answers in both situations. There are usually the standard set of questions and then your whole being and life are sized up by complete strangers based on this sketchy caricature they have of you.
Then let’s assume the relationship goes beyond the casual dating stage and you start dating exclusively; in the case of the job, this equates to being recruited by the company. As with many relationships, it’s not always rosy. Cracks start to appear and the relationship is nothing like what you thought it’d be. So you break up and then go on a holiday to nurse that broken heart and then the whole cycle starts again. Similarly with a job, many of us get bored after being on the job for awhile or find that it’s not really what we want, and then we resign.
Job hunting, like dating, requires you to put yourself out there in the market. Finding the right job is like being in a relationship with the right person. If it’s the right person, you wouldn’t think of moving on or looking for something better. The lucky ones find that right person and/or job and make the rest of us – or maybe just ME – feel inadequate. J added that people like him have gotten burnt by corporate giants and are forever bitter about it – like people who have been hurt deeply by partners.
It’s as if I’ve become a cynical bitch overnight. Last week, there was an article in The Straits Times about the ‘Plasticine Generation’ (橡皮人) in China. This refers to a group of white-collared workers, mostly in their late 20s and early 30s, who have become ‘numb to life, have no dreams, interests or ideals, and do not feel much pain – or joy’. They are called the ‘Plasticine Generation’ because like plasticine, they can be or are moulded into any way that others want them to be – simply because these plasticine generation don’t care in what way they are moulded or pushed along.
The article added that ‘these “plasticine men” can be found among doctors, bank employees, teachers, journalists, traffic policemen, civil servants, actors and taxi drivers, the magazine reported. Typically, they work alone and for more than 50 hours a week. They feel as if they have expended all their energy and all they get in return is a sense of emptiness’.
While I’m not quite that close to having entirely no interests or ideals, I feel like I’m becoming a ‘plasticine woman’ in feeling trapped and confused in this world where I feel I’m losing my grasp on every single day. 🙁