My attempts to escape the clutches of the Baron are foundering on three points:
- There isn’t much out there. I’ve moved so far from journalism over the past couple of years that it would be difficult to go back, and I don’t know if I want to.
- I’m sure there are good, competent recruitment agents out there. I’ve met a few. Hell, I even know an honest estate agent. But I’m getting sick of people phoning me up about fantastic opportunities for online advertising production managers , or video on demand content managers that they thought I’d be perfect for, based on some work I did on PC Advisor ten years ago. One recent irritating twunt used my name at the end of every sentence, and told me my CV wasn’t good enough for the role (Intranet editor that sounded quite interesting until he said it was a one-woman band gig: which usually means no budget, no developers, no designer, lots of “Internet For Fuckwits” training sessions and lots of dicking about in Dreamweaver or worse…FrontPage).
- Grumpy Boss keeps making the job more interesting. Now I have to take on the Bangkok 2nd and 3rd level support teams and make them write more compelling content. This doesn’t mean lots of lovely free trips to Thailand, unfortunately. He also wants me to stop being the online help tool support monkey and do more actual management. I even mentioned my pitiful daily rate and asked for a substantial rise, and he didn’t argue…