Cover Letters (Part 2)

Ah, cover letters. The necessary accoutrement to your CV which proves you are the best possible person for the job, and that the recipient may possibly be smote by God if they don’t hire you.

Or a mindless wad of cack in which you employ stock phrases such as “transferable skills” and “time management” and then press the “send-to-all” button.

There seems to be a sliding scale of cover letters, ranging from the standardised “dear-employers-I’m-sending-this-to-everyone-but-please-give-me-a-job-anyway” to the so gushing “I just love this company and I’ve wanted to work here since I was three so please oh please give me a job I’ll do anything.”

FACT: The former makes you look sterile and devoid of personality. The latter just makes you look mental.

FACT NUMBER TWO: The elephant in the room is that everyone *knows* that you’ve written to a thousand other companies. You're initiated the first part of the game in which everyone makes believe that they are the number one company you are applying to, and that you can't even contemplate working anywhere else.

I was at an interview yesterday and mentioned that I was interning at another company. They asked how I’d managed to get it.

“Um, because I spent about 5 consecutive hours on Tuesday working through a list of companies, of which you were one?”

Of course I didn’t say that, I laughed nonchalantly and waved away the question with “Oh, I just emailed them and they happened to have a last minute opening…” Breezy. I'm being breezy.

So, how do you tread the fine line between facelessness and wack-job when writing a cover letter? Your friendly Intern is here to tell you now.

DISCLAIMER: Long periods of cover letter writing may result in the following: the shakes, mild schizophrenia, periods of doubt or depression, typing fingers (similar to tennis elbow), bleeding eyes from scaring at the computer screen, increased thirst, mood swings, the voice in your head starting to talk like a cover letter (i.e. like it has been tattoed with inverted commas)...

Or may that’s just me…

1. SPELL THE NAME OF THE COMPANY CORRECTLY.

Idiot. Not a great start when writing a letter pertaining to your interest in the company. You can’t be that interested, now can you? There’s no silent g in Price Waterhouse Cooper.

2. Make sure that the right cover letter is sent to the right company.

No joke. I have actually accidentally copy and pasted a cover letter to two companies and forgotten to change the names. Shit. “Ah ha ha, of course, when I sent a message to “Red Communications” addressed to “Dear Blue Communications,” it was because I was thinking of how much better Red is than Blue. Ah ha ha ha. Mmm…job?”

3. Don't forget to ATTACH YOUR CV

Again, an mistake. You get all excited about the cover. You finish with the flourish of "please find my CV attached." You press the send button. Hm, something seemed to be missing...Oh CRAP.

Don't. Do. it.

4. No-one wants to hear your life story.

Succinctness is the key. They don’t give a shit about where you went on your Gap Year, or what you ate for breakfast. They just want to see that you’re not a moron, and gather a basic understanding of why your email address has inconveniently turned up in their inbox and wasted valuable time when they could be checking Facebook. Short, sharp and snappy, please.

5. But at the same time, make it personal.

Ok, so I know I vetoed your life story, but you want to give a cursory few lines in reference to the particular company you’re emailing, even if you’ve just read the website and seen something vaguely interesting. Flattery gets you places, as long as you’re not over-saccharine. Think Grace Kelly, not Shirley Temple. And for God’s sake, DON’T PUT KISSES. These people aren't your friends. And they never will be now.

And finally:

6. Create a template

The fact is, it takes a fucking long time to write thousands of cover letters. It is incredibly boring and time consuming to write a brand new cover letter for each and every company you email. Create a Word document with the basic boring information you can’t be bothered to type out: “I graduated from the Monkey School of Communication in 1920 with a BA in Pig Latin. Since graduating, I have been de-worming orphans in Somalia, working in a sweat shop and eating cheese. I am scared of people and better working alone in the cupboard in my room, hate computers and speak conversational binary code.” You get the gist. See previous post. Now you can simply copy and paste these bits and add the personal shit they want to hear, which should cut down your time by, oh, at least an hour.

Only four more to go!

Cover Letters (Part 1)

Delete As Applicable

Dear Insert Casual First Name Here  of Person I Badgered On Phone For Email Address / Human Resources Person at The Company I Google Searched

I graduated recently / far longer ago than I would like from Impressive High Tier University / (that I’m inserting here so that you’ll at least read the rest of my email) and am interested in hearing about your graduate opportunities and work placements / still don’t have a job but hope that I’ll get a reply if I at least mention working unpaid.

Since graduating, I have been gaining experience in the film, theatre and advertising industries / making tea throughout London, and now feel ready to take up the challenges of a more permanent position / can’t look my un-employed self in the face any longer.

My work experience has taught me invaluable time management skills / how to use my alarm, and I have built up a wealth of administration abilities / spent the last six months welded to the photocopier; skills which I feel would be beneficial to a position within your company / any idiot could do. I am comfortable using Word and Excel / not a retard, and have excellent written and oral communication skills / can spell and string a sentence together.

I feel I would be suited to a position within your company because I really value the ethos you uphold / you’re the last one on my list. I admired your work on (insert name of project) / Found the name of something I had vaguely heard of on your website and feel I could talk about it in an interview, and would value the opportunity to work for such a successful company / am running out of companies to email.

Please find my CV attached / don’t delete this email, and I look forward to hearing from you soon / will be checking my email / blackberry / Itouch every 5 minutes for the next 7 days.

All the best,

Intern

Extra! Extra!

What job involves sitting on your tuchus most of the day apart from the occasional walk back-and-forth, includes free meals and pays you 90 quid to boot?

That’s right people, I’ve become an Extra.

And when you read the specs you think, “Hey, why don’t I do this everyday?”

10 hours of doing nothing seems waaaay longer than that:

5:30 am: Wake up. Put clothes on inside out. Correct.

5:40 am: One word: Coffee.

6:30 am: Arrive on set. Shudder at smell of fried breakfast. Coffee.

7:30 am: Find inner peace. Get bored. Remember to take up knitting.

8:30 am: Get driven to “location” conveniently next to a MacDonald’s, which shall be our holding bay.

8:45 am: Extras are given a stash of money to do with what they wish. Porridge anyone?

9:00 am: Begin talking to other extras, including a batty old polish lady sporting a leopard print hat.

9:15 am: Conversation wanes. Coffee.

10:30 am: Strike up conversation with Australian runner. Gives me his hand-warmer. Score.

11:00 am: Mmm...book?

12:00 pm: First requirement of the job: Walk across the street.

12:05 pm: Reset.

12:10 pm: Walk across the street.

12:15 – 1:00 pm: Lather, rinse, repeat.

1:00 pm: Return to set for lunch.

1:30 pm: Lunch technically finished. No requirements. Mmm...sleep?

2:00 pm: Now where was that book...

3:00 pm: Sigh. Find phone. Check for wireless signal. Hmph.

4:00 pm: Get driven to a different location. Stand by roadside waiting for cue.

4:45 pm: False alarm. Return to set.

5:00 pm: Tea time.

5:30 pm: A mention we may be done for the day. Sit eagerly waiting by window.

6:30 pm: Free at last! And with overtime to prove it. Now, if only the extras agency didn’t take £70 out of your first fee...

Ah yes, so not exactly 90 quid this time round, but at least this time it was tea-drinking, rather than tea-making, that was at the forefront of my agenda.

Sigh...I’m practically a lady of leisure...

Ladies and gentlemen,

Please excuse the recent hiatus of blog posts - I have been in San Diego, where The Boy has been doing research for his dissertation.

Things I have learned from my trip:

1. There is nothing to do in San Diego
2. You can definitely eat too much Mexican food
3. Sun burn is a bitch.

New post soon!

TV Drama: The intern revolts

"We need you to pick up a tv and carry it back to the office."

"I'm sorry, a what now?"

"A television. We need one. To furnish a flat. For the actors."

"Er...would that be a big one?"

[Hands motioning]

"Um, I'm not being funny, but that's bigger than I am."

...

"So that's a 'no' then?"

Can I Have The Receipt, Please?

Last week I was getting lunch in Leon’s when I saw a familiar sight.

A boy was standing at the counter, slightly out of breath, frantically rustling through different pieces of paper and calling out a long and complicated order, punctuated with that tell-tell phrase:

“Can I have the receipt please?”

My ‘tern-dar was instantly on alert: he was definitely one of us.

Asking for the receipt is an all-too-familiar request for interns. Hey, don’t mock it: compared to vacuuming floors and getting lunches, it’s one of the most taxing jobs you’ll do.

Receipts are, after all, an integral part of the work place: they make sure that the company is billed for all the little luxuries that employees are unwilling to pay for themselves (lunch at the Ivy: expense it! ; Packet of Marlboros: work stress, expense it!), and specifically in a film company ensure that the right project is made to fork out for the right exec.

Also, it proves that the intern hasn’t been embezzling the sandwich fund to pay their rent.

You’ll soon notice the familiar chant when sent on your merry way to Tesco’s: “Don’t forget the receipt”, either simply barked at your retreating back by one of the ‘high-ups,’ or murmured by an assistant, trembling slightly at the memory of when they, too, were and intern and had mixed up Mr Producer’s M&S receipt for their own one for Vagisil.

Now, I have to admit that I am not great at keeping my own receipts in order, let alone having to deal with ones for a whole company. I am also notoriously bad at maths, to the point of which the Boyf has labelled me ‘numerically dyslexic.’

Imagine my perturbation, dear readers, when the battle cry goes out. My palms start to sweat, my heart races, I can’t tell my right from my left: whose receipt is who? Is that my five pence or theirs? I forgot the biscuits!

Thus, I have come up with this simple solution, and you will be pleased to learn that all you need is an envelope and sharpie: easy enough to come by in any humble stationery cupboard.

1. Take Sharpie.

2. Write on hand: DO NOT FORGET THE RECEIPT.

3. Take Envelope.

4. Place petty cash in envelope.

5. Go to shop. Collect mango/tea bags/the account director’s itch cream.

6. Hand over petty cash.

7. Glance at hand with cash in – WAIT A MINUTE –

8. See writing on hand - “Can I have the receipt with that please?”

9. Deposit the winning ticket and change into envelope, specially secured to hold all cash separate from own wallet along with correct receipt.

10. Return to office, delicately sweating and safe in the knowledge that cash and receipt are snug in their envelope.

11. Make tea.

See? Simple. Any unpaid idiot could do it.

Oh wait...

It's a Jungle Out There

Well, it's official. I'm not alone. As the article in today's Daily Mail demonstrates, the (often) poor and unregulated conditions of interships are affecting graduates up and down the country.

I was fascinated to discover Interns Anonymous from this article: a website created by two graduates which is hoping to bring to light graduates' stories of the internship market.

As the Daily Mail article points out, the moment an intern is asked to do any sort of "work" they should officially be paid minumum wage. The problem is, "internships" seem to fall into this no-man's land where it's somehow ok to expect intelligent, hard working graduates to swallow their pride and spend 8 hours a day photocopying and making tea, and all for no pay.

I called a company I worked for as an undergraduate to ask if they had any work. The guy I spoke to told me that he had had to fire his assistant, so he was relying on his intern, i.e. the intern was doing the same duties as his assistant, but without being paid.

As I have said in past posts, employers are in a very jammy position: slap the euphemistic term "internship" onto a job, and suddenly they get a host of applicants who are willing/forced to take up the post as a way into the industry, without having to pay them.

And with another wave of graduates who are going to be seeking employment in just a few months, the government really needs to step up and sort this out. It's a jungle out there.