UNEP: The Last Disappointment

Everybody seems to have a dream. Mine just happened to be to work for the UN Agency that focuses on climate change and environmental protection. I would do it even if it were for two months. Yet whilst for many people, dreams come true. For me, they have only brought stark disappointment.

By the time the first fireworks were set off on New Year's Eve, I was already in my pyjamas and robe. I entered the year in the same way I had entered the last, in the living room of my home, with one of my sisters and my parents. A key change in the 8760 hours between one moment and the other, was that I had spent 7950 of those hours unemployed.

My parents were quick to embrace my younger sister. She had been looking for a job for 3966 hours since she finished her Master, until a successful case of networking went her way and she landed a dream job at Microsoft. "I'm going to change the world", she would tell me in the following days, as her initial and shared gloominess changed and she became a radiant and unabashed disciple of her own sanctity.

As they hugged her and wished her the best for this exciting new year, I looked out of the window and made my wish. Five weeks before, I had had my first ever phone interview with an UNOPS HR representative. The post was for a Communications Consultant at UNEP. Nervous as I was, and reluctant to talk about it to other people so as not to not be unlucky, I was enthralled by the possibility, and in the same way I had felt like destiny had somehow placed my sisters in their job jobs, I was hopeful that I would get my chance. Maybe I wouldn't change the world, but I make a damn good job of writing articles about an agency that was certainly doing so.

I wished to get some feedback that everything was alright with the application. I wished to get the chance to go and work with UNEP.

For days, I couldn't even concentrate on this blog. There were so many environmental updates and interesting stories, but I was obsessed with this opportunity. On the way, I received further rejections from other offers I had applied for. Companies like Trivago, Microsoft, Ecoembes and Desigual, smaller provincial companies in my town, and even agencies like EUIPO, EASO, Transport of London and the ECA who turned me down in suspicious terms without even calling for an interview, despite meeting every single point of their eligibility and selection criteria, had been quick to make sure that my head didn't wander to the clouds. But I was already there, in a daze, thinking about the job I cared for the most, replaying the interview in my mind and hoping to get that confirmation call.

The interview had had its flaws. Firstly, my mobile phone did not work well so we had to change the call to my landline phone. The person who interviewed me was a man called George James. His voice was muffled and despite telling me the names of the other people who were in the interview call, half the words he spoke were unintelligible. After passing through that awkwardness, I felt the interview was, to be frank, the best I had ever done. I had rehearsed so many questions in my head that none of them had caught me by surprise, even though, evidently, there were still some nerves on show. However, by the time it was my turn to ask questions, things went a bit sour.

"I feel very honoured to be considered for this post, given the high number of applicants. As this would be an ideal job for me, I would like to know what attributes you saw in my CV that encouraged you to shortlist me for this position?", I asked. More than having my ego fed, I wanted to know what stood out in my CV to know key things UNEP HR representatives sought, and in a worst case scenario, what to highlight in a future application.

It was then that I realised that I was dealing with a somewhat stolid person.

"That is a pretty silly question", Mr James scoffed. "At the UN we don't look for specific attributes but for a complete profile. The fact that we have contacted you shows that we consider that your profile as a whole is worthy of our call."

This made me feel like a) I had made a pretty silly question. b) Mr James hadn't read my CV but had been told to give me a call and ask a few pre-established questions.

Second question: "It is clear that the UN is an organisation that makes a difference and has a positive impact worldwide. As employees of the UN, what it is that you like the most about representing them?".

More silence...until eventually, the lady whose name I never grasped, because Mr. James mumbled it, and Mr James himself came up with an awe-inspiring, original quote. "I guess it's the fact that we are changing the world. That contribution makes us feel good". Bravo, sir, bravo.

By the time the third question came round, I was more concise. "When would I be starting, if I were to get the job?".

"When can you start. Do you need a notice period?"

"No. I can start five days after you call me".

Four weeks later, I woke up from a dream where I had moved to Geneva. Instinctively, as I had been doing every day since the call, I checked my phone. This time, I had received an email asking for a list of references. I contacted my last three employers, and got four references, two of them from the European Investment Bank, which I thought was the job position that would most interest them. I sent Mr James my email as soon as I got consent and contact details from my references. My dreaming continued.

"You know, it can't be that bad", my dad would say as I walked with him across the empty promenade on my hometown. "If they want your references it's because you've got a chance. And your Head of Division and other Managers will all speak highly of you". I tried to shrug it off, but I felt like I had grasped on to this job too hard and I couldn't fathom what would happen if I didn't get that call.

***

By the time my parents came to give me a hug I had quickly replayed the situation over and over again in my head. But we all know, that every memory is just a distortion of a previous distortion of a recollected occurrence. Nonetheless, I still had hope. My father patted my back. "I hope this year treats you kindly, Capitán". he added, referring to me in the same way he had been doing since I was a child. I smiled back, and it was only after sitting down on the sofa that I noticed I had a lump in my throat.

Over the course of January, my sisters left to return to their jobs. One of them stayed in Columbia with Médicins Sans Frontières, the other returned to her eurocratic life at the European Parliament in Luxembourg, and finally, my little sister moved to Dublin to work for Microsoft. I stayed at home. As more and more rejections arrived, all my channels closed down, leaving the only job I had actually dreamed of getting. I sent Mr James a follow up email, asking for an update on the recruitment process. He never answered. It turned out he had never contacted my references either.

Sadness began to kick in, and whenever I entered The Rainy Hour, the association I got with it began to leave me more and more morose. Every night, I would go to bed later, and every night, I would dream less.

By the time I read the email this morning, it didn't even feel like a kick to the stomach:

Dear Eduardo,

Thank you for applying to the vacancy announcement of Communications Consultant with UNOPS in Geneva, Switzerland.

We regret to inform you that you have not been selected on this occasion.

We encourage you to continue to apply for any future positions with UNOPS that match your skills and experience.

Thank you for your interest.

With kind regards,

UNOPS Human Resources

You hear so many stories of people telling you to keep your head up. To follow a dream. Even if you are a thirty one year old unemployed Journalist who is living back home. Follow that dream. Even if this had been my thirteenth application to a UN over five years. Even if I was now officially too old to even be considered for their Youth Progamme. Follow that dream. And when it betrays you, don't gripe "et tu, Brut?", because dreams are not something we are entitled to.

I sat down in Infojobs and looked for communication jobs. Fifteen minutes later I had been filtered down to "Starfunks employee with basic knowledge of English."

"Ed, be positive, Microsoft only like positive people." My sister had remarked after hearing I had been rejected by the same company that accepted her.

It is now 8578 hours, since I last had a job. You don't even count the time in days anymore, or months or weeks. Just every hour and every minute that you ask yourself what it was you were aspiring for, and just how to deal with the sordid emptiness that comes with starting from scratch with everything but time on your side, and the hours slowly moving.