Give a Mum a fish and you feed her for a day; teach a Mum to fish and you feed her for a lifetime. Or check the freezer. You’ll probably find a fish finger. And a waffle. Mmmm. Waffles.
A recruitment consultant stole my fish. My metaphorical fish that is.
By ‘my fish’ I mean ‘my career’ and boy, it was a big one. However, then along came the kids.
Once I’d become a full time stay at home Mum I misplaced my rod, lost 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 in to 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.
- They told me to “Get lost you Mummsy loser”.
At least it sounded like, “Get lost you Mummsy loser”. What they actually said, just before hanging up, was, “I’m guessing this is not quite the right role for you at this time.”
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. A big, massive, 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 (Mmmmm. Waffles).”
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 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.
[This is not a sponsored post. I’m just happy and wanted to tell you why.]