Andy Richardson: Honestly, is it a good idea to tell the truth in a job application?
It was a workaday Saturday and we’d got hours to kill. Anita – who puts the ‘mad’ into madness – was bored. The devil finds work for idle hands and Lucy Ferr was on Anita’s right shoulder, busily planting seeds.
“Do you think I should apply for another job?” she asked, as though running a theatre wasn’t sufficiently challenging, creatively stimulating and well-paid. “I’ve always wanted to be a traffic cop. Perhaps I should apply to the Chief Constable of Yorkshire.”
Like I say. She was bored, not thinking straight, shooting the breeze and allowing her stream of consciousness to unwittingly entertain us all.
We asked what qualifications she’d got to be a traffic cop. Had she passed her Advanced Driving Test, for instance? Would she know how to handle a high-speed pursuit and did she have a background in the civil service?
“No, I was the regional manager for Marks & Spencer. But I look great in uniform.”
What she gets up to at weekends is her business.
So we decided to write a letter, to try and help. It was addressed to the Chief Constable of Yorkshire. And, unusually, we decided it would be truthful. Because the oddest thing about job applications is that they’re usually full of fibs. As well, of course, as spelling errors, summaries of weaknesses in letters supposed to highlight strengths and inappropriate humour – never drop a drugs joke in an application letter, it’ll be filed in the cabinet called ‘bin’.
Anita & Me decided to shoot from the hip.
“Dear Chief Constable.
My name’s Anita, but you can call me ‘Neet.”
We realised, we’d already lost him. No successful letter offers over-familiarity within two lines. But on we ploughed.
“I really like driving fast. And I like dressing up. So it would be great if I could come and work for you as a traffic cop.”
I had visions of ‘Neet pressing the pedal to the metal in a little black dress as she tried to recreate the car chase scene from Dirty Mary Crazy Larry.
“I’ve got a clean licence and I’ve never been caught for speeding: ha, I’m clever, aren’t I, because the key part of that sentence is ‘never been caught’. Anyway, it’s a quiet day at the theatre so I thought it was time to change my life; you know, the way they used to on Chris Tarrant’s Who Wants To Be A Millionaire.
“Now I know I won’t get paid a million if I come and drive cars for you – though I don’t mind if you want to pay me extra and I won’t tell my colleagues, honest. I’m qualified for the job because I hate criminals and know how to work CCTV.
“Oh, and I don’t mind popping to M&S to get you a crayfish and mango salad for lunch whenever you’re in the office; I’ve still got my staff discount so I’ll save you 45p every time I go.
“Anyway, Dave the technician has just come in and wants to test the microphones, so I’d better scoot. You know where to find me – you’re clever like that – so drop me a line if you want me to do a test drive.
“Laters. ‘Neet. Xx”
And that led us to this thought. Wouldn’t it be great if people wrote honest job applications more often so employers knew what they were getting before offering someone a position. You know the sort of stuff. Instead of blathering on about being organised, good with a word processor and not taking a sick day in 15 years, people could tell the truth.
We’d get letters like this:
Dear sir, I’m usually sick one Monday a month, which, coincidentally, follows a night out with the girls. My favourite drink is Prosecco, my favourite food is Prosecco sorbet and I’ll be covered in dog hair when I come in for my shift: Sabre’s moulting, you know how it is. I can’t file, I’m unproductive, I won’t get on with my fellow workmates and if there’s a hint of snow, you won’t see me for a month. And if anyone gets Woman Flu, I’ll be off for a month – my pet snake, Zander, might catch it from me, so it’s best not to take the risk.
Or, Dear Madam, It’s not really the job I want and although I’m under-qualified to work in refuse collection I’m short for this month’s rent, so I thought I’d apply. PS. My favourite TV show is Jeremy Kyle – I love documentaries – and I’m a little flatulent at times. It’s best to let you know, so there are no surprises.
It’s been two months since Anita decided to become a traffic cop. And, guess what, she’s still waiting for a reply..
