Monday, 11 September 2017

#247 The absolute cheapest printer in London

Page after page of material spilled out of the printer behind me. The sheets casually landed more or less in a tidy pile on the little plastic tray that had so far miraculously avoided getting caught on anything and breaking off. An orange light started blinking. Replace cartridge. Already? I'd just bought the thing on Monday. I was only half-surprised. I'd spent practically the whole week producing documents. Printer lights are like petrol tank lights on dashboards though. She still had a few left in her.

Before me sat the ultimate beast of a career file. EQ, IQ, personality, life story, work story, feedback summaries, written work, CVs, beliefs, values, skills, strengths, weaknesses, thought experiments, cultural fit. You name it. If I was going to see a career adviser, I wanted to walk in armed to the teeth. I'd positioned each section carefully in sleek black file with a contents page. The whole thing had been compressed and backed up online and offline. It was practically indestructible.

I'd skim-read the three career books I'd checked out of the library on Saturday and completed any relevant exercises. What I really wanted from the adviser was an expert opinion. Some insight and if I was honest, some assurance. You can't always get that in books.

A part of me wondered if I'd over-prepared but I didn't feel like I had. I'd just done everything I reasonably could. It wasn't like I'd gone overboard on philosophy or written about my extended family. I'd enjoyed putting it all together though. Did it mean something? Maybe I was destined for a career pulling together people's personal details and analysing them. It meant something else too though. I'd run out of excuses. It was time to get out of the house and go meet this person.

2 comments

Running on empty said...

yep, as Nike say, just do it.

Dan Copping said...

They do indeed.