I have been busting my proverbial posterior in order to get a job for the end of university. I’m sure that most students in my position have been doing very much the same. Real jobs, internships, placements. You name it, I’ve applied for it. I had a call back not so long ago to discuss terms of an internship. I was extremely excited but was rather shot down in discussing some terms and conditions that was not on the website. It was an attractive position but something tells me that I won’t be going for it.
Terms and conditions? Looking for a full time person. Travelling expenses covered to London. A three month placement. Just what I’m looking for. However, it’s unpaid. So let me get this straight. In order to do this job, I have to stay in Reading. In order to do that, I need some rent money; say £900, to stick out the internship for three months. That’s ignoring money for jam, johnnies and juice for the apartment. Maybe this is a bit of a rant, but what the hell? I can’t work full time now, when I have the money and house and food, because I’m at university. My final year, the important one. I can’t work after because I won’t have a job to pay for said house and food and any work I might get in a part time job wouldn’t begin to cover that. Hello, even more debt. What a quandary.
Stop me if I’m jumping to conclusions, but isn’t this slave labour? I’m working for nothing, full time. It’s a joke. Having ranted to my tutor about it, she pointed out something quite true but that has already been covered by an article I wrote not too long ago. The only people who are going to be able to do these internships are the students from rich families or who live in the immediate area. But the students who have homes in the immediate area are likely to be at university elsewhere. That whittles it down to the rich kids. Once again, the rich kids who have been riding on mummy and daddy’s coattails all their lives, who are still in their childish pupa stages and who are released into the world as children and I’ve already detailed the rest of that story.
Maybe I’m just bitter I’m not rolling in dough.