 For five months in 2020 I was endlessly, unsuccessfully, job hunting. Granted, my timing could not have been worse. I closed my small, award-winning business in January of that year in search of such 'perks' as maternity pay and weekends, and I was confident that my entrepreneurship and experience would provide a smooth transition into a new vocation. Unfortunately no sooner was I free to roam, we became a nation in lockdown. Rising unemployment figures made each job more competitive meaning I couldn't be particular. I just needed to work, so applied for anything I could, including a funeral arranger, despite the fact funerals are petrifying to me. I distributed around 30 CVs per week, made ceaseless phone calls to The National Careers Service and sent application form after application form to no avail. I wasn't offered one interview, but watched on longingly as friends lined them up from the comfort of their sofas. I wondered: what have they got that I haven't? They didn't work harder, weren't cleverer and none of them have had it handed to them on a plate. Then a depressing but totally plausible idea hit me: what if it's my name? My foreign-sounding – where-the-hell-is-that-from, I bet she can't speak English, is that a man or woman – name. Hiring a Sevjan, which is my Turkish birth name, is pretty risky – she could bring all sorts of issues. Is she allowed to work in this country? Will she be religious, or unsociable? The frustration of not even getting a single rejection email consumed me, so I decided to try something drastic. The time had come for my socially acceptable, white-sounding middle name, Melissa, to take centre stage and work her caucasian magic. I edited my CV, changing my name but nothing else, and – bingo. After five months of silence, the offers finally began to roll in. I sent out another batch of 30-odd CVs as Melissa. Almost instantly my phone started to ring – recruiters, HR dep){kind=link}
NEWS… BUT NOT AS YOU KNOW IT
For five months in 2020 I was endlessly, unsuccessfully, job hunting.
Granted, my timing could not have been worse. I closed my small, award-winning business in January of that year in search of such ‘perks’ as maternity pay and weekends, and I was confident that my entrepreneurship and experience would provide a smooth transition into a new vocation.
Unfortunately no sooner was I free to roam, we became a nation in lockdown. Rising unemployment figures made each job more competitive meaning I couldn’t be particular.
I just needed to work, so applied for anything I could, including a funeral arranger, despite the fact funerals are petrifying to me.