Job application madness
Oh man, you guys. I really should be working on my thesis right now because I have to hand in the next draft to my supervisor tomorrow... but I have to get this off my chest, because holy crap. >:(
So for the last few days I've been compiling everything for the job application for the English Second Language teaching assistant position in France, right? (The job title is so cute - "Assistante de langue vivante" - Living Languages Assistant) I had everything organized, with the due date for the application - March 15th - circled in highlighter in my agenda.
So two days ago, on February 28th, I went off to see my old French professor to get a reference, essentially a piece of paper the provided with questions that essentially amount to - how is their spoken French? Written French? How strong is their regional English accent? (Canadian English is considered more "neutral" than, say, Highland Scottish.) There's also a comment box. So I got a good review from him.
Yesterday, I went to see Professor Selina Stewart, who teaches me MLCS 400, or History of Translation. It's technically a "Modern Languages and Cultural Studies" course, in the same vein as the other translation theory class and other language classes, I think, but it's taught like a history class by a classicist who does translation on the side. No problem; she speaks French, she likes me and my work (and knows who I am) so yesterday I made an appointment for today so that we could like talk in French for fifteen minutes or so, so that she can evaluate my French level (having never actually taught me French) and voilà! Done. (Then I just have to print off second copies of everything, sign everything, get a few passport-style photographs to staple to them (times SIX, guys), send an enveloppe within an enveloppe with my return address so they can get back to me without wasting their own stationary...)
(Don't worry, this story gets more interesting very soon.)
So last night I went to the job website again to print off a second copy of that evaluation form, and I take a glance at the application date... and it says March 1st, not March 15th. As in... TODAY. That day. Whatever.
I nearly had a heart attack, and then I nearly cried. I'd learned my lesson about putting all your eggs in one basket in applying for jobs for last summer, and so my plan had always been to apply for the Quebec job (the application for which I'd handed in in early February) and this one. And then suddenly... dashed. ;_;
Dad convinced me to apply anyway, and so I frantically scanned and printed off copies of my passport, birth certificate, etc.
I saw professor Stewart this morning, and she almost had to reschedule for Friday but then I explained about the situation and possibly something about the desperation in my facial expression convinced her to do it today anyway... and she did end up having time! We had a lovely chat in French about various subjects and she gave me a lovely review. She also got the thing stamped with a quite impressive stamp, too.
Extra officialness always looks good, she told me, when dealing with France; the French are apparently notoriously bureaucratic. From what I can tell from experience with applying for a job there... I'm going to have to agree.
Anyway, last night I sent off an e-mail but didn't expect a reply - it was to the person in charge of what seemed like all of the English-speaking countries in the programme along with Canada (New Zealand, South Africa, Australia...), and sure enough, I got no answer. And then this morning I finally dug up from the bowells of the website the contact information (e-mail only) of the person in charge of the Canadian applications in the French Embassy in Ottawa. I sent them off an e-mail explaining the situation and asking if it was too late to apply, it being March 2nd. (Implicit was the "should I still bother?")
And... wonderfully, mercifully, after some anxious time, fifteen minutes later I got a snap reply:
"Hello Lauren
it is fine we have few more position availabe.
Send your application as fast as you canThank you."
I think that they were actually French, judging by the writing style, but THIS WAS WONDERFUL. I sent off a quick thank you expressing my relief. Now I knew that I had to get everything done FAST.
I wrote the little blurb on my intent really fast (quickly checking the French grammar online), filling in that form and others in duplicate or triplicate, depending. I agonized over my French word choice, etc.,etc. Anyway, I finally got home (car accidents, snow everywhere, at least 5cm fresh on the ground today, probably more) and then I rushed in, explaining the situation to my parents... And dad offered me a ride to Shopper's Drug Mart.
This isn't a non-sequitur. They actually have a passport photo place (and I needed six for my application) and a post office inside. BINGO. However, he was offering me this because he needed to pick up my brother from work in the building next door. I walked in the door at 4:30: dad wanted to pick him up for 5:00.
So I rushed to complete the documents. Even though dad told me not to rush, I could tell he was impatient so I did. We hopped in the car, drove down, and he said to take my time because he needed to pick up some groceries at my brother's work. OK! I thought.
The passport photo ladies were nice. They had to help someone in line in front of me, which was fine - a mother and her cute four year old son, who had difficulty sitting still. Cute, and a bit slow, but fine. The ladies took my photo, then offered to scan it onto their computer and print it five more times so instead of paying for 6 passport photos I would pay for one and five regular photo prints (like, printing photos from a camera memory card.) Ok! I said. Yay! They even trimmed them down to size for me so I could staple them in the tiny boxes on the form.
Dad came in halfway through this and kind of lingered. I told him I would still be some time because I needed to go to the post office. I offered to walk home (despite the snow) if he had stuff to do, but he waved me off and said he would wait. Apparently my fool of a brother decided to wait in the car despite the fact that it would be another ten minutes or so but whatever.
But MAN it took far longer than expected: not 10 minutes in and out like dad had estimated, but 45 minutes. The lady in front of me in line at the post office was quite old and couldn't figure out how to address an enveloppe, and then had to ask a lot of questions about postage as the line built behind me. There was only one lady behind the counter. I had to pay $36 or so for priority mail so it would get to Ottawa the day after tomorrow (because the mail had already been picked up today, and it is going all the way across the country) but it was painful, waiting for this lady. And then when I was filling out the new enveloppe, I had to wait again while the lady behind the counter helped someone else (all that needed to happen was the receipt torn off, the enveloppe stamped, and me sent on my way). And dad was lurking the entire time, more and more impatiently. I again offered to walk home and he said no, not now. :( He then got a bit more impatient and said that it was silly that I was carrying my coat and book and everything and insisted on holding them himself.
Anyway, if I'd just driven myself like I'd originally offered to, instead of dad being such a man and offering to drive me himself. I would have been perfectly content doing the readings that needed doing while waiting in line, but because my dad was standing there staring and glaring at the lady behind the counter, it made me and her anxious. And then he took my book and coat because I had my hands full so then I had nothing to do but stare at the poor lady. :(
Dad's normally a very nice guy with a very grumpy face. He's normally not REALLY grumpy. :( I think he was just frustrated with himself for offering in the first place when I would have been content to drive myself anyway.
And then my little brother made snarky comments about walking home himself being much faster the entire car ride home. :( :( :( Come on, guys. Grow up. It wasn't a problem until you said it was.
Still, it's now off in the mail! It's out of my hands!
So for the last few days I've been compiling everything for the job application for the English Second Language teaching assistant position in France, right? (The job title is so cute - "Assistante de langue vivante" - Living Languages Assistant) I had everything organized, with the due date for the application - March 15th - circled in highlighter in my agenda.
So two days ago, on February 28th, I went off to see my old French professor to get a reference, essentially a piece of paper the provided with questions that essentially amount to - how is their spoken French? Written French? How strong is their regional English accent? (Canadian English is considered more "neutral" than, say, Highland Scottish.) There's also a comment box. So I got a good review from him.
Yesterday, I went to see Professor Selina Stewart, who teaches me MLCS 400, or History of Translation. It's technically a "Modern Languages and Cultural Studies" course, in the same vein as the other translation theory class and other language classes, I think, but it's taught like a history class by a classicist who does translation on the side. No problem; she speaks French, she likes me and my work (and knows who I am) so yesterday I made an appointment for today so that we could like talk in French for fifteen minutes or so, so that she can evaluate my French level (having never actually taught me French) and voilà! Done. (Then I just have to print off second copies of everything, sign everything, get a few passport-style photographs to staple to them (times SIX, guys), send an enveloppe within an enveloppe with my return address so they can get back to me without wasting their own stationary...)
(Don't worry, this story gets more interesting very soon.)
So last night I went to the job website again to print off a second copy of that evaluation form, and I take a glance at the application date... and it says March 1st, not March 15th. As in... TODAY. That day. Whatever.
I nearly had a heart attack, and then I nearly cried. I'd learned my lesson about putting all your eggs in one basket in applying for jobs for last summer, and so my plan had always been to apply for the Quebec job (the application for which I'd handed in in early February) and this one. And then suddenly... dashed. ;_;
Dad convinced me to apply anyway, and so I frantically scanned and printed off copies of my passport, birth certificate, etc.
I saw professor Stewart this morning, and she almost had to reschedule for Friday but then I explained about the situation and possibly something about the desperation in my facial expression convinced her to do it today anyway... and she did end up having time! We had a lovely chat in French about various subjects and she gave me a lovely review. She also got the thing stamped with a quite impressive stamp, too.
Extra officialness always looks good, she told me, when dealing with France; the French are apparently notoriously bureaucratic. From what I can tell from experience with applying for a job there... I'm going to have to agree.
Anyway, last night I sent off an e-mail but didn't expect a reply - it was to the person in charge of what seemed like all of the English-speaking countries in the programme along with Canada (New Zealand, South Africa, Australia...), and sure enough, I got no answer. And then this morning I finally dug up from the bowells of the website the contact information (e-mail only) of the person in charge of the Canadian applications in the French Embassy in Ottawa. I sent them off an e-mail explaining the situation and asking if it was too late to apply, it being March 2nd. (Implicit was the "should I still bother?")
And... wonderfully, mercifully, after some anxious time, fifteen minutes later I got a snap reply:
"Hello Lauren
it is fine we have few more position availabe.
Send your application as fast as you canThank you."
I think that they were actually French, judging by the writing style, but THIS WAS WONDERFUL. I sent off a quick thank you expressing my relief. Now I knew that I had to get everything done FAST.
I wrote the little blurb on my intent really fast (quickly checking the French grammar online), filling in that form and others in duplicate or triplicate, depending. I agonized over my French word choice, etc.,etc. Anyway, I finally got home (car accidents, snow everywhere, at least 5cm fresh on the ground today, probably more) and then I rushed in, explaining the situation to my parents... And dad offered me a ride to Shopper's Drug Mart.
This isn't a non-sequitur. They actually have a passport photo place (and I needed six for my application) and a post office inside. BINGO. However, he was offering me this because he needed to pick up my brother from work in the building next door. I walked in the door at 4:30: dad wanted to pick him up for 5:00.
So I rushed to complete the documents. Even though dad told me not to rush, I could tell he was impatient so I did. We hopped in the car, drove down, and he said to take my time because he needed to pick up some groceries at my brother's work. OK! I thought.
The passport photo ladies were nice. They had to help someone in line in front of me, which was fine - a mother and her cute four year old son, who had difficulty sitting still. Cute, and a bit slow, but fine. The ladies took my photo, then offered to scan it onto their computer and print it five more times so instead of paying for 6 passport photos I would pay for one and five regular photo prints (like, printing photos from a camera memory card.) Ok! I said. Yay! They even trimmed them down to size for me so I could staple them in the tiny boxes on the form.
Dad came in halfway through this and kind of lingered. I told him I would still be some time because I needed to go to the post office. I offered to walk home (despite the snow) if he had stuff to do, but he waved me off and said he would wait. Apparently my fool of a brother decided to wait in the car despite the fact that it would be another ten minutes or so but whatever.
But MAN it took far longer than expected: not 10 minutes in and out like dad had estimated, but 45 minutes. The lady in front of me in line at the post office was quite old and couldn't figure out how to address an enveloppe, and then had to ask a lot of questions about postage as the line built behind me. There was only one lady behind the counter. I had to pay $36 or so for priority mail so it would get to Ottawa the day after tomorrow (because the mail had already been picked up today, and it is going all the way across the country) but it was painful, waiting for this lady. And then when I was filling out the new enveloppe, I had to wait again while the lady behind the counter helped someone else (all that needed to happen was the receipt torn off, the enveloppe stamped, and me sent on my way). And dad was lurking the entire time, more and more impatiently. I again offered to walk home and he said no, not now. :( He then got a bit more impatient and said that it was silly that I was carrying my coat and book and everything and insisted on holding them himself.
Anyway, if I'd just driven myself like I'd originally offered to, instead of dad being such a man and offering to drive me himself. I would have been perfectly content doing the readings that needed doing while waiting in line, but because my dad was standing there staring and glaring at the lady behind the counter, it made me and her anxious. And then he took my book and coat because I had my hands full so then I had nothing to do but stare at the poor lady. :(
Dad's normally a very nice guy with a very grumpy face. He's normally not REALLY grumpy. :( I think he was just frustrated with himself for offering in the first place when I would have been content to drive myself anyway.
And then my little brother made snarky comments about walking home himself being much faster the entire car ride home. :( :( :( Come on, guys. Grow up. It wasn't a problem until you said it was.
Still, it's now off in the mail! It's out of my hands!