Quite frankly it was a surprise when, early in September, I was called to the Commercial Director’s office and told that my position had become untenable due to a “restructuring exercise”, and I was being made redundant. A surprise only in the sense that I had been given a permanent contract just a few months earlier – but then surprises are the norm when you’re employed by Arriva Malta….
I could probably write volumes on how this company works (or doesn’t…) but deep down I'm a really decent person and least said soonest mended. I will just say that my experience working alongside Englishmen has left me with two very distinct after effects. First: my passion for the England football team has almost evaporated; last night I caught myself perversely cheering Poland just because one of their players was a Wolves man a couple of seasons back. Second: I now understand how a harmless but determined man once described by Churchill as a “half naked fakir” could single-handedly rip out Britain’s jewel in the crown and effectively set the ball rolling to dismantle the largest empire the world has ever seen…
Initial shock over, I set out to look for a job – knowing full well the age discrimination rampant in the local job market – basically if you’re over forty-five or so employers will simply not look at you. Never mind that the ETC website marks most jobs’ age eligibility as being between 0 and 99 years. So much for the abolition of child labour…
In the past month or so I’ve applied for a variety of jobs with pretty much normal sounding titles: Administrative Assistant… Office Administrator... Administration Executive… Operations Executive… Studio Officer… Purchasing and Logistics Assistant… Content Writer…well you get the idea. I have had no more than two acknowledgements at most and a solitary vague answer from one company that they will be in touch in October… I also know for a fact that none of my prospective employers bothered to have as much as a peek at what I draw and write on this site, not even when the job on offer had anything to do with art, graphics, illustration or writing.
Of course I've steered away from the funnier sounding job titles but being an art aficionado a vacancy for a Sandwich Artist caught my eye...
This is the moniker now apparently in use by a renowned world franchise for the person who slices your bread, puts in the ham and cheese, adds the mustard or mayo and takes your cash. The only difference from your reliable hobza biz-zejt vendor is that the persons this franchise employ make it incredibly difficult for you to make a purchase…
Not that I have any disrespect for people who serve you your sandwich but I honestly think the job title of Sandwich Artist does nothing to elevate such a person’s status - on the contrary, it is little more than an open invitation to ridicule.
I have had experience of this franchise quite recently. You may try to order a simple ham and cheese and expect to be served pronto. But no – out comes the first retort. Bread – will that be Italian, whole grain, white, brown…? I go for the first thing that comes to mind and hope the issue is settled. But there is the all important ham decision next, will it be Parma, Modena, Genoa, Sampdoria, Internazionale or a Serie B ersatz? Same goes for the cheese. By this time I am tired of this crap and make a mental note not to visit again unless my very existence depends on the sandwich artist’s interrogation.
I find it difficult to fathom how this franchise trains its people to make the simplest purchase an obstacle course. Normal, well-adjusted people usually only stop here as it’s the quickest nosh in town. They certainly aren't eager to bond or form life-changing relationships with their server – polite service is enough and the multiple question quiz is the last thing on the customer’s mind.
Will I be applying to work as a sandwich artist? Hardly – unless I'm allowed to spread the mayo in the shape of a fist with the middle finger pointing defiantly upward on top of each sandwich I sell.
I could probably write volumes on how this company works (or doesn’t…) but deep down I'm a really decent person and least said soonest mended. I will just say that my experience working alongside Englishmen has left me with two very distinct after effects. First: my passion for the England football team has almost evaporated; last night I caught myself perversely cheering Poland just because one of their players was a Wolves man a couple of seasons back. Second: I now understand how a harmless but determined man once described by Churchill as a “half naked fakir” could single-handedly rip out Britain’s jewel in the crown and effectively set the ball rolling to dismantle the largest empire the world has ever seen…
Initial shock over, I set out to look for a job – knowing full well the age discrimination rampant in the local job market – basically if you’re over forty-five or so employers will simply not look at you. Never mind that the ETC website marks most jobs’ age eligibility as being between 0 and 99 years. So much for the abolition of child labour…
In the past month or so I’ve applied for a variety of jobs with pretty much normal sounding titles: Administrative Assistant… Office Administrator... Administration Executive… Operations Executive… Studio Officer… Purchasing and Logistics Assistant… Content Writer…well you get the idea. I have had no more than two acknowledgements at most and a solitary vague answer from one company that they will be in touch in October… I also know for a fact that none of my prospective employers bothered to have as much as a peek at what I draw and write on this site, not even when the job on offer had anything to do with art, graphics, illustration or writing.
Of course I've steered away from the funnier sounding job titles but being an art aficionado a vacancy for a Sandwich Artist caught my eye...
This is the moniker now apparently in use by a renowned world franchise for the person who slices your bread, puts in the ham and cheese, adds the mustard or mayo and takes your cash. The only difference from your reliable hobza biz-zejt vendor is that the persons this franchise employ make it incredibly difficult for you to make a purchase…
Not that I have any disrespect for people who serve you your sandwich but I honestly think the job title of Sandwich Artist does nothing to elevate such a person’s status - on the contrary, it is little more than an open invitation to ridicule.
I have had experience of this franchise quite recently. You may try to order a simple ham and cheese and expect to be served pronto. But no – out comes the first retort. Bread – will that be Italian, whole grain, white, brown…? I go for the first thing that comes to mind and hope the issue is settled. But there is the all important ham decision next, will it be Parma, Modena, Genoa, Sampdoria, Internazionale or a Serie B ersatz? Same goes for the cheese. By this time I am tired of this crap and make a mental note not to visit again unless my very existence depends on the sandwich artist’s interrogation.
I find it difficult to fathom how this franchise trains its people to make the simplest purchase an obstacle course. Normal, well-adjusted people usually only stop here as it’s the quickest nosh in town. They certainly aren't eager to bond or form life-changing relationships with their server – polite service is enough and the multiple question quiz is the last thing on the customer’s mind.
Will I be applying to work as a sandwich artist? Hardly – unless I'm allowed to spread the mayo in the shape of a fist with the middle finger pointing defiantly upward on top of each sandwich I sell.
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