Jigsaw Dysphoria*

Bored
I am bored
With the test of applications,
Shuffling my words
To be a stand-out sensation
At the same time worrying
A few too many syllables
Will surely raise the hackles
Of those straining at their shackles
While sitting round the table
Assessing if I’m able,
A clear definition
Of a singular position,
Pronouncing on the prospects
Of one who expects
Rejection,
The process of selection
More old-school-tie than Rorschach,
More first impressions
Than backlash…
A shouldagonetospecsavers
Kind of experience
Almost entirely based on appearance,
In itself a dynamic science
Established in laws of genetic appliance,
Freeze-fight-flight a three-cornered delight,
The primacy of instinct a natural right
To take the steps intuition applauds-
Pull down the shutters, slam shut the doors
A polite ‘No Thank You’,
No ‘Welcome Aboard!’
‘Better luck back at
The drawing board!’…
There ought to be a mutiny
‘Gainst Equal Opportunities:
The checking of criteria
To make sure none’s superior
Will never truly override
Gut-feelings squirming deep inside
Because, let’s face it,
Who’d employ
Colleagues who might just annoy?
Questions, comments, observations
(All above the New Girl’s station)
Juxtapose inadequacy,
The nervousness you do not see
Not because I choose to hide it
But because you have denied it,
Making clear non-verbally
This is not the job for me,
A jigsaw piece that doesn’t fit
No matter how much you’re inclined to
Shove it…?

 

 

*A cynical reflection on job rejection- underpinned by a sixth-sense finely honed from ancient history and interview experiences where it seemed my just being in the room is enough to put the interviewer on the back foot…  During my first ever professional review (- a long time ago now!) I was told in no uncertain terms a by a senior manager (shouting), “The trouble with you is, you’re too intellectual, too articulate, too creative and your standards are too high!” She left quite a substantial footprint…

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