Previous Experience

I applied for a job yesterday.

I should have been cleaning the bathroom, or packing the house; or even my suitcase. But no… I applied for a job.

Right now I am sitting in a coffee shop in the Brisbane airport waiting for the boarding call for my flight to Canada, and poor Vas is probably picking up after the whirlwind of a mess I left. He has to pack up the whole place as he is moving to Kununurra. I didn’t have time for all that: I was busy.

I spent the day thinking about how to respond to Selection Criteria

Item 1 - “Previous experience”

When I was a kid I worked in the ice-cream stand at Elko, piled boards at the mill and planted trees deep in the mountains. I was a waitress, a receptionists and a store clerk. I managed a Mac’s store and was the copy girl at a law firm in Vancouver. I have been a swim, fitness, first aid and ski instructor. I have worked as a teacher trainer, a bookkeeper, a manager, and a co-ordinator. I have been a primary, secondary and tertiary teacher, on five different continents.

I am a mother and a grandmother. I have changed diapers, changed tires and changed partners. I have also changed shape… three times with the boys and yet again as I enter menopause.

I didn’t tell them all that though.

I did write about driving to Yuendumu and Kintore, Areyonga and Balgo. I told them about chasing the dogs out of the kitchen, the horses out of the shire, and the camel out of the shop. I mentioned making Milo, toast and vegemite for the kids, painting with the artists, and teaching grown men how to read a gas gauge.

I talked about staying out of Men’s Business and silently watching as bare breasted women and painted men swept the shire office with palm branches during Sorry Business.

I talked about skin names and humbugging.

I didn’t tell them about getting stuck in the snow, the Northern Lights or what it feels like to be out when it is -50. I didn’t talk about walking through the Mutrah market with my grandson, exploring a 500 year old fort, or what it felt like to be out when it is +50. I didn’t mention what it feels like to love someone, lose someone, or go just a little bit crazy. I don’t think they wanted that.

Previous experience… gets you thinking.

Sorry about the bathroom Vas. And thanks for helping me pack!