Leah Garcia-Purves

Ah, hello! I’m Leah. I’m nearly 22. This usually means being 21… I use that term loosely for job interviews etc.

Speaking of job interviews, raise your hand if you had trouble getting a job this summer.

No really, raise that damn hand like you love Jesus. Do it. Right, now grab two fingers, shove one up each nostril and go gold digging. Because, no matter how ridiculous you look right now, chances are you’ve lost all dignity trying to look for a part time job anyways. I know I have.

As a respectable citizen of this fine country, I have searched long and hard. Just last week, I was told I was under-qualified for a supermarket checkout job. I wouldn’t have been offended if I was say, 15. But ysee, I was told the week before that I was over-qualified to work at [insert all fast food places on the Shore].

I almost find that finding a job is like being part of the dating game, which thankfully, I am no longer a part of. You meet these people, you bare a portion of your soul to them, to which they say they kinda like you, hence wanting to see your sexy ass again. You wait by the phone for a few days and then realise it’s not going to happen, confirmed by an email or something. Cue excessive chocolate consumption.