Today was my first official “sign-on”.

I entered the horrendously ugly 60’s building with a skip in my step.  Nice to have a bit of a routine, someone to check in with and talk to about this whole unemployment thing…

Handed my little book to one of the many assistants looming in the hallway, and took a seat in section one, next to a shy man with jam-jar spectacles.

Above his head was a poster,

“Who knows where the right job for you could lead?”

Motivational, hopeful, I started to brim with ideas, roll around in the endless possibilities, like a cat in the dust.

“shelf filler”


“sales assistant”

another oh.

“sales supervisor, department manager…” every painful step of the ladder sending a splintered shard into my heart, until “store manager” was interrupted by the muffled call of my name: “Miss Hancock”.

Yes.  Yes.  That’s me.  I ejected from my seat and launched myself away from the epitome as fast as I could.

CVs spilling out of my “I love the Green Cow Organic Farm” bag, ink-stained fingers rummaging for the thirty forms I had to fill in over lunch, a tirade of stories and words exploding onto his desk.  I couldn’t help but notice his eyes enlarge, and body lean back.

“I don’t know what to do about my CV!”  I explained, with genuine angst.  Expressed my suspicions over the assumptions and stigma associated with the word “oxfam” and “charity”.

“I am not Mrs Doubtfire!  If they’d just read on they’d see that!”

Hmmm.  Yes.  Yes.  He muttered, as he slowly returned to his original position, and took hold of my CV.

I waited expectantly.

“You could…”

“Yes?” I asked.

“Just take it out.”

“What?  All of it?”

“Well, if it’s a genuine concern then maybe it’s for the best…”

6 years of hard-work, four divisions, all those projects…and stress.

I reclaimed my CV, folded it up and placed it protectively back in my bag.

“Its ok.  Maybe its just a sign that they’re not the right jobs for me…”

And so my first interview came to its end.  As I gathered my things and thanked him for his time and attention, he looked up at me and said.  “You’ll get a job soon.  If somebody sees you…you’ll get the job.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It’s a full-moon today.  Energy peak, static attention-span.  When all the dementia patients on my mum’s ward at the hospital go loopy.  I wondered why I couldn’t get past Suryanamaskara A this morning.

Vata incense burning richly in the fire-place, morning sun warming the front of my body.  The thoughts in my head are in a frenzy.

There are so many things I want to do…

I heard from a friend from the Vipassana course this morning.  Reminded me of a card she’d given me :

The true meaning of life

“We are visitors on this planet.  We are here for ninety or one hundred years at the very most.  During that period, we must try to do something good, something useful with our lives.  If you contribute to other people’s happiness, you will find your true goal.  The true meaning of life.”  H.H. The 14th Dalai Lama

Perhaps I can pin that over the poster in the job centre on my next visit…