The art of looking

It's quite an art to know how to look at anything when you've been unemployed for a while. Especially anything that relates to job seeking, or people giving you advice as to where to look and what options you might consider. Opinions are free and everyone has loads of them, especially if somebody else has to bear the consequences.

When you've applied for lots of jobs and not succeeded, that begins to chip at your self-confidence and hopes. You begin to become unsure of what you can actually do. It’s OK to keep a foot in voluntary work but you begin to think, they'll take anyone, won't they? The little voice in the head can get busy concocting all kinds of scenarios.

My friend John who is middle-aged, just like me, likes to believe he’s a realist: “Look at the facts,” he says. “Our skills are getting out of date with all this computer stuff. Nobody wants us for anything, apart from stocking up supermarket shelves.” And since he doesn’t want to stock supermarket shelves, John has concluded he’ll never work again.

I find that outlook rather pessimistic. I don’t want to believe my friend could be right. But I look at jobs on some job websites and despair (not just for myself) when I notice there are three hundred applicants for pokey little jobs that pay under £20,000 a year. I look at the Third Sector jobs site: I find myself hopeful that there are jobs for which I have the exact skill set, even when I get nada response to my applications.

I guess I’m keen to keep walking the fine line between realism and hope, while taking care not to descend into pessimism. Or worse, cynicism. I hang in there. I don't let the snipers kill off my hopes. I’m sure it’s better than looking backwards – to the good old days or how things have never worked out. Or looking around to notice evidence of the bad economy and the media and politicians arguing about where we’re at.

It takes something to master the art of looking and not letting oneself be pulled down by what one sees. Do you want to know my secret? I’ve picked a lesson or two from Epictetus. Epi … who? I hear you ask. I’ll tell you more the next time!

by Ready Ready, guest contributor