There's an old saying that goes 'dress for the job you want, not the one you have' and yesterday I took it to heart and went shopping. An hour or so later I emerged with two new pencil skirts, a suit and a few little camisoles. I drew the line at buying shoes and trousers – I'm not about to apply the same approach to my finances and spend the salary cheque I want, not the one I (don't often) have.
You may be wondering why I would be wanting a different job to the one I have. It's a good question... at the moment I'm my own boss, a consultant-at-large. I wake up when I want to, head home when I want to and divide my flexi-time between selling diamonds and art. The problem is it's not a full time job – it's part-time and freelance and unpredictable. When it's good, it's Jimmy Choo good, but when it's bad it's plimsole sneakers from Pep bad. Commission is great when the sales are rolling in but is just plain sucks when nobody's buying and the rent/maid/car insurance/medical aid/electricity/cellphone bill blah blah blah still need to be paid.
So it's back to the grindstone for me. Back to the 'nine to five' Dolly Parton sang about and the rush hour traffic that I used to pass the time by smoking in. These days I no longer smoke (bar the odd social slip up), I sleep through the morning rush hour and run past the afternoon rush hour with my jogging buddy. *sigh* It's not going to be easy learning to obey my alarm clock again... but it must be done.
Truth be told, I'm too young to be a housewife and too old to still be paying rent. And if hubby and I are going to stand any chance of buying our first house together in the next couple of years then I've gotta indulge my inner corporate monster a bit, don the heels, shimmy into my most intelligent-looking pencil skirt and hope *fingers crossed* that someone overlooks the lack of formal qualifications (pieces of paper with buzz words like commerce and marketing wrapped in a bow marked degree or diploma) and notices my 'on the job' experience and tendency to swim, not sink, when chucked in the deep end without warning.
What I'm looking for is an employer who can see potential. Cos I can guarantee that I'll do my utmost to be the risk that pays off –after all, once I've got my foot in the door I'm going to want to keep my feet decked out in style, and any Sandton girl worth her fat-free soya latte knows that if you want to work it you've gotta work.
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