Job chat: just give it a rest

I applied to university for two reasons: to make a load of mates to chaperone me through life, and to gain a portfolio of experiences that I can look back on and chuckle to myself when I’m really bloody old and boring.

However, it seems that many of my friends rate getting a good job quite highly on their priorities.

But just because I sympathize with their position doesn’t mean I want them chewing my ear off about the differences between Sales and Rates, or this employability event they’re going to tonight at the Thistle.

None of it matters to anyone except for you. Put a lid on it. In fact, you should stop going to employability events altogether.

Even though it might be beneficial to get some face-to-face exposure with an employee of one of your targeted companies, they don’t even want to be there, and won’t offer you a vac scheme on the spot.

They definitely won’t remember your name just because you told them a load of things they already knew about their own job.

The queue for PwC at Exeter’s job fair.

The companies that come to them do so because they want the 2.1-from-Exeter aluminium-brushed cyberprick.

You’ll only get the job you want  – the one with the 42k-starting salary and clumsy secretary who always seems to drop stuff in your eye-line – if you press the right flesh.

Actually, you can go ahead and sack all the other attempts by the careers service to differentiate and distinguish your application altogether.

Deutsche Bank are not going to care that you represent your coursemates to the Guild; SSLCs actually do fuck all.

I’ve also never heard of an application being rejected on the grounds that it didn’t feature the Exeter Award.

So now I’ll tell you that getting a job really isn’t that difficult. Shock horror! Lockers has only gone and bloody got himself a job, and it was much more simple than the rest of you mugs give it credit.

Exeter Award pigeons are easily spotted.

All I did was get on the blower with Father, who booked a tee time for the weekend with a few pals from his uni days.

I caught the train up and Bob’s your uncle. (On a separate note, Bob Diamond is actually my uncle. He was there, too.)

So essentially what I’m saying is stop trying so hard at trying hard. The smell of desperation on you is as strong as a Holland girl’s perfume.

Instead, turn your attention to securing your 2:1 and communicating that you’re a good egg who people would want to have on the desk next to them. (Pigeons obviously stop reading here.)

At the end of the day, all you need is a stroke of luck to get you over the line. But hey, if that all fails, I hear the avenues for progression are really good in recruitment.

Alternatively, if you’re my pal, just get me to call up Uncle Bob.