What it feels like writing a job application:
Tell us a time when you were unequivocally amazing.
Being unequivocally amazing is as much a state of mind as it is an action. Maintaining this state of mind takes years of practice, but in the roles I have held in the past, I have taken the ample opportunities provided to hone this skill. A specific example of a time I utilised this frame of mind, was when I called a team meeting under the guise of actual work. Once I commenced the meeting, taking charge like a good leader, I unleashed a torrent of my unequivocal amazingness on my team. I received stellar feedback, and many of the team commented on how they felt like better people having attended the meeting.
What it feels like writing a job application for a Christian organisation:
Tell us about a time when you were unequivocally amazing, but make it sound spiritual.
Only God is unequivocally amazing. But I am a close second. I spend 97 hours a week doing God’s work, even if 50% of that looks like me fiddling on my phone or chatting over coffee. I don’t so much sleep as have extended sessions of deep meditative prayer where I can seem asleep. My family are the most important part of my Christian work. If they weren’t in the background to prop me up, I would just look like a raging workaholic with no soul.
What it feels like writing a Government job application:
There exists, in some parts of this role, the need for you to believe in unequivocal amazingness and in your ability to deliver measurable, timely, on budget unequivocal amazingness. Explain the process you would undertake to fulfil this expectation.
Both of us know that ‘on budget’ is a very loose term when it comes to Government initiatives. Similarly, ‘timely’ and ‘measurable’ have a degree of flexibility unseen in the private sector. This said, I would probably just go about the task the best way I know how, delivering the best result I possibly could. But in order to veil that reality, I will now deliver a series of buzzwords so that my application shows higher in whatever computer system screens these applications. Synergy. Efficacy. Narrative. Conversation. Stakeholder. Convergence. Growth. Cross-platform. Adaptability.
What it feels like applying for a low-paying job at a company with high profits:
We are unequivocally amazing. We know it. We make money. We make money like you’ve never seen. You wish you could see the amount of money we make, because it would blow your tiny mind. You will only ever be able to hope to see the kind of profit we turn, because if you could see our genius, you would die. Your eyes would explode out of your head and then you would die. We are so important and we do so much stuff and make so much money. SO MUCH MONEY! But none of us want to do any administration, so we want you to. We don’t value your contribution to our company, because we make all the money, no matter how much essential support you provide.
Ok. I can do the administration.
What it feels like drinking Arctic Fire:
A bit of a rip off. This tea is such a mongrel to brew correctly. It needs rinsing, it needs second by second observation and adjustment to find the right time to make it palatable. It’s the avocado of teas: underdone, underdone, underdone, 10 seconds of perfection, ruined. If you taste an over brewed cup of this stuff it’s like knocking back a couple of packets of fisherman’s friends at the same time. A wall of menthol charges through you, leaving only despair in its wake. When it’s brewed correctly, it’s genuinely a nice tea. It’s a hearty black with a floral pop. The herbal menthol flavour makes it a perfect winter warmer tea, made specifically for a frosty morning. So Arctic Fire, much like real fire, can be pleasant if handled appropriately, and will destroy you if handled carelessly. (I rinse the leaves under cold tap water, then a 90 second brew with boiling water).
Arctic Fire: 3/5
Enjoy with: meaningful work, wherever you can find it.