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20-something, unemployed and living at mum’s

Coming from an age bracket that has been copiously dubbed as the ‘Selfie Generation’, my cohorts and I have been subject to as much animosity as amusement when it comes time to break into the professional realms. In the immortal words of my Great Uncle Jamil (who refused to hire me), “the problem with you lot today is them darn ‘selfed’ photos you take in the toilets, bunch o’ narcissistic imbeciles*”.
*Not even close to the word he actually used.

Allow me introduce myself, I am unemployed, on the wrong side of my 20’s and have been living in the same room since I was 14. Life, shall we say, had not worked out as planned. Whilst a select few of my peers were relishing the opportunity to re-live their tawdry teenage years, I found myself donning my most sophisticated apparel only to sit at my desk and trudge through application process after application process.

3 months, 34 applications, 6 interviews, a quarter-life crisis and a bag of M&M’s later I was offered a job… in finance. I was clearly being punished.

Beguiling readers with the potent written word was the dream, not spreadsheeting things. So I did what any semi-sane person would do, I cried. I cried like I’d just been promised to my cousin. And then the Heavens parted, the Angels sang and God graced me with a job. This job. Of course there was a gap of about a year, several deflating interviews, a couple other jobs, and what my doctor described as a bout of acute depression before I reached this point but hey, a girl can dream.

Now, far be it for me to wind up this embarrassing narrative of my life with a cheesy ‘nothing will make you happier than being true to your dreams’ cliché but that is exactly what I’m going to do. Sorry.

‘Build your own dreams, or someone will hire you to build theirs.’ – Farrah Gray.

Oh and to the Great Uncle Jamil’s of this world – we’re trying alright!?

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