I seemed to have just skipped out on that ancient tale of waiting by the phone for a guy to call. You know, the one that features in romcom classics, made for desperate women around the globe? And, before you judge me, it’s not because boys always called, it’s because by the time puberty hit me (and boys hit my raider) texting was the thing.
For some reason I think text communication (or rejection) is a little easier to handle. You can text other people as a distraction, you can take your mobile with you when you’re out (to eliminate the fear off missing that all important beep), or you can even text the illusive party to relieve some of the tension. (Followed, of course, by huge amounts of self loathing because you ‘broke’ the illusion of playing hard to get).
Well, ladies of the pre-text era. I’m feelin’ ya.
No, the boy hasn’t gone array. He’s still here (not much texting though, more grunting). I’m talking about potential employers. Sending my blood sweat and tears (aka work-to-date for the less dramatic of my readers) into an automated email black hole is starting to get a little heart breaking.
I’m constantly checking my gmail, my phone and my LinkedIn for news from London shores. Hell, I’ve even started to over analyse my blog readership stats to see if I can somehow spy my future boss’s googling me.
Questions fill me up, like “am I not good enough for you?” or “maybe I should just ring them?” and the age old “what if they lost my number?”. I am turning into every female character in He’s Just Not That Into You, except my hair isn’t as shiny.
So, this Monday I would freaking love my inbox to be full of responses to my beacons of hope sent in the direction of the UK. Or at least just ONE email that isn’t spam.
NB If you are in fact a potential employer reading this, I’m totally cool and laid back I swear. This post is just a total joke. If you email me, and I respond within 30 seconds it’s totally just because I was already online. I swear.