Application! Application! Application!

I have a computer – not like the big one I wanted from The Time Tunnel, slightly smaller – but nonetheless I have one and, in normal land, this would be great.

But I don’t live in normal land with normal people.

I seemingly appear to be the only person in the family with one and I think they look upon laptops as something to be feared – like the cavemen feared fire, the Victorians feared electricity and the people on the 334 bus fear soap.

So I am often getting asked to look things up or buy stuff etc, which is fine in a rather annoying way.

Most annoying is my eldest sister who will often ask me to compose, type and print out a job application covering letters which she then takes and copies out in her own handwriting!

What’s that all about?

No one has ever handwritten job applications since the 1970’s.

During my numerous record appearances for JobClub in the 1990’s, even the most idiotic morons (and there were a few) were using the word processor to type applications out. Before nicking it, running off and selling it for drugs.

Does she fear the employer at the interview will say: “Thanks for your interest in our job for a CLEANER and it’s really great that you are such an accurate typist too because you can fill in for my Personal Assistant, Mary, when she takes her annual holiday next month”?

When my dad applied for jobs as a lift engineer, he wasn’t asked whether he could do 80 words a minute just because he had a typed application letter.

Having worked in offices, I am probably the only person in the family where an ability to type has been a necessity.

Also, a necessity for me as no one can read my handwriting, not even me sometimes. Sadly, true. I so picked the wrong career.

It just irritaes me because these things take up my time, my effort, not to mention ink cartridges, and for what?

So as my sister can scrawl it all out in ink and hand it over to an employer like a schoolboy hands over a tatty note from his mum.



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