Once I became a full-time stay at home Mum I misplaced my rod, chucked the bait, and requested that all tackle be kept from view. But I was happy on the break from fishing my career until the phone calls from the recruitment consultant started.
Actually, it was many calls from numerous recruitment consultants, although after a while Tristram from McKenzies and Mackenzie from Tarquins and Tarquin from Tristram Solutions all started to merge into one.
The cycle that began went something like this:
- They found me on LinkedIn.
- They called me.
- They told me of a great opportunity.
- They told me I looked a perfect fit.
- I asked them if there was a possibility of working flexibly.
- We parted ways and I never heard from them again.
After the 7th time this happened in a year, the 7th time being the time I was pursued for a position as part of an “empowering women initiative” that involved 3 phone ‘chats’, 2 face to face interviews, 2 months of my time, and a
“Well Abby, you are perfect for the role but all of our work is currently in Bristol.”
“But you know I live in Southampton.”
“Hmmm. Maybe this is not quite the right role for you at this time.”
I began to feel a little flat. A little sad. I started to write morose poems while drinking too much red wine. Red wine and fish: what was I thinking?
One morning after too much Shiraz I awoke in another fishing-related metaphor. This time I was hungover, stuck in the doldrums, without a fish in sight.
Suddenly, I remembered that I totally know how to fish. I just needed a net.
When you’ve worked hard and kept in touch with lovely, amazing people you find you’ve nets a plenty, all cast pretty wide.
I reeled my net in, rummaged around, and found new, exciting opportunities tangled within it. There was also a bottle and in that bottle was a message and that message said:
“Enough with the fishing metaphors. Get to the point of this tale and stop with the waffle.”
Fair point.
What I’m trying to tell you is that I’m retraining and I’m going to try and find a role (or numerous roles) that allow me to flourish, to be there for my family, and add reel real value to others.
For the first time in a long time, I’m excited. Looking forward. Writing something other than maudlin poems.
Sod off Tristram and Mackenzie and Tarquin: I don’t need your help – there really is no role for you here at this time. I’m leaving you behind.
I’m going fishing.
Cogito Ergo Mum 
Good luck! I hope you catch a big, flexible, satisfying one. I’m not sure what you do, but so much can be done with telework today I can’t imaging nothing is out there that would allow flexibility.
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Good luck! And yep, sod off all those who don’t think we mums mums can do it! Here’s to bigger fish to fry x
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Thank you Lovely. Means a lot coming from you that does x
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Red wine and fish, what were you thinking indeed!!
I loved this post, Abby, you certainly have a way with words. Well done for taking the leap and retraining. Can you imagine 10 years ago if someone had told you you would be a ‘social media manager’ (a what?), that would have sounded so odd. The world is changing: let’s evolve with it!
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Only had my first mobile phone 15 years ago! Game of snake anyone? I’m all for a bit of evolution. And oh my goodness – sorry about the red wine error 😉 x
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Good luck, Abby! But is there a danger that you might end up catching fish fingers?!? 🙂
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Good luck Abby. I think most of us full-time mum’s have been through the whole stolen fish thing. One consultant said to me, if you want a job never mention that you are a mother. I am now volunteering, tutoring seniors in technology, to try and get some kind of foot in the door. But truth is I have a hard time remembering the taste of fish or why I wanted to get that fish in the first place? And if I catch that fish, what do I let go?
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