The cackle at the end of the phone was really pushing my buttons. It was long, drawn-out, and mocking. I was having a glass (bottle) of Rose in the sun and decided on catching up with an old mate of mine, who I had only seen once in about 5 years. Presuming that she knew everything about me from my disastrous, self-sabotaging second year at Uni, she was genuinely creasing at my latest life move.
A little back-story. For those reading my blog will know that I made an impulsive decision to move to Vietnam and become a teacher. I lived there somewhat happily for two years before Coronavirus struck and the government made the schools close. Being out of a job, and the days all rolling into the same booze-fuelled boredom-drinking binge, I decided it was high time to come back to England. The plan was to start another career – one that was a bit more intellectually stimulating then holding up a flashcard and saying ‘Giraffe!’
As I sat in my mum’s little London flat I pinged off as many CV’s and Cover Letters as I could, eagerly awaiting interview requests. None came. I expanded my coverage of what I was willing to do and still, none came. Getting a bit desperate and questioning if I had made the wrong choice coming back to the UK, an email expressing interest in me for the job as a receptionist came through. Perturbed, as that’s exactly what I got fired from as my last London job, I agreed to an initial phone interview. Not feeling too positive about my future at this point.
Then a sudden brainwave struck my mother as I was doing her makeup for a party. Why don’t you become a make-up artist? After initially batting it off as a far off dream of mine, I started to research and for the first time in a long time, get really excited about my prospective future. Excitably, I’d call up my mates and tell them my news, only to be shot down time and time again.
‘You’ve never expressed an interest in make-up?’ ‘Is this another impulsive decision?’ ‘There’s too much risk involved.’ These were some of the incredibly frustrating comments coming out of my friend’s mouths. A rule of mine in life (a good one to remember) is to NEVER curb enthusiasm, so I was surprised they weren’t even slightly supportive. But then it hit me. Everyone was really excited when I told them about the receptionist interview, saying ‘OMG – I knew something great would come around!!’ however at the thought of me being freelance and running my own business, they didn’t like. People do not like to see you doing better than them, or doing something they wish they could do if it wasn’t for their pushy parents and urge to conform. It’s a secret, unspoken competitiveness about life.
So I did it, I spent all my money booking onto this course only to have it postponed for three months due to Coronavirus. Shite. However, I don’t regret the decision. My aforementioned friend (at the beginning of my ramble) laughing at me down the phone claiming to be a ‘beauty writer’ isn’t really at all. In fact, I looked at her website and she has not written anything for anyone on beauty. Curious.
So, I suppose my message at the end of this brain-fart of essay is to do whatever you want, whenever the fuck you want too. There will always be haters.