On reflection, I suppose that there could be better times to be searching for a job, in marketing and business development, in London, than in the present economic climate.

However, this is where I find myself, along with thousands of other people up and down the country, whose lives have changed in the past ten weeks, in that we are now what I believe actors call “resting between jobs.”

One thing that isn’t really discussed in lockdown is the feeling of having too much time. It’s not the done thing to say that this might be an issue when others are juggling family commitments, a heavy workload and childcare, but I have so much time at the moment that I’ve revised my CV three times (don’t worry, I haven’t made up any jobs), started an MSc course (which I’m enjoying), applied to volunteer post lockdown, re-planned my website (to be re-launched in a flurry, soon), considered writing that eternally distant novel and made a lemon cake. I also know most of the walking routes around Belsize Park and the M&S food hall is a treat for the senses.

Unfortunately though, I’ve also started to realise that I use LinkedIn like other people use Tinder.

By this terrible admission, I mean that I experience a small frisson of excitement every time someone (often a mysterious avatar called a “Recruiter”) views my profile. I have actually read the “thought leadership” pieces publicised on there and sometimes I leave jolly yet insightful comments on people’s posts, as well.

But, I have something else to confess, reader. Yes, you guessed it. I’m now paying for Linkedin Premium, in the hope that it will lead me to my new purpose in life, job-wise. And, according to LinkedIn’s mysterious ways and means, I can now find out if I’m in the top 10% or 50% of potential applicants for a role so that my chirpy, tailored cover letter does not go to waste. Rather soberingly, this upgrade will also let you know how many applicants there are for the role. Sometimes it’s in the hundreds.

There have, however, been one or two mishaps along the way, perhaps most notably when I thought that being a “Director of Fiscal Events” for a government department meant planning high level financial seminars. It didn’t.

Apparently, fiscal events are something that the economy goes through or into. You could say that we are in one now, in fact. I believe it’s called a recession. Perhaps I should have applied after all, or suggested that “Fiscal Events – Director” would be a better way to list this responsible sounding opportunity. Hopefully there isn’t a confused recruiter out there, wondering why loads of “Experienced Event Managers” are suddenly getting in touch, talking about delegate journeys.

Either way, me, my event timelines, social media skills and clipboard were not called for at that juncture. Other strange things have also happened – because I have a law degree, LinkedIn suggests that I go for high level legal roles that I have no chance of filling, but nonetheless it’s nice to think that I could, in another life, be an “Events Lawyer”, as suggested a few days ago by its indomitable (and optimistic) algorithms.

Still, I plough on. I search for and save jobs. I apply for them, note down the details and…..and then I hear nothing. I suspect that it isn’t just me who is in this situation.

Now, I know that this is a really tough time for us all. It’s almost unbelievable and quite frankly, scary. Recruiters and employers must feel like they are set in aspic and the economy is in a state that many of us will not have witnessed before in peacetime.

However, my understanding of LinkedIn is that it is, first and foremost, a recruitment and networking tool, although once a very kind looking gentleman who I did not know, did get in touch with me on there to say: “Hi, how are you doing…” a clear waste of his InMails.

At the moment though, it feels like more of a vacuum, as the client briefings and “Going Forward from Covid-19” pieces have started to dwindle. That said, I’m fascinated by people’s homes as they provide an off the cuff video update, often in casual wear.

So, (and I really hate it when people start sentences with “so”, but these are unprecedented times), I’m making a request.

If I apply for an advertised job with your firm or through your agency, it’s because I would like to work for you, because I need a job, and moreover because I can actually imagine myself being good and effective in that role.

To not hear anything (and not to even have a CV and application acknowledged), whittles away at applicants and becomes fairly soul destroying after a time.

Friends can’t help but ask how the job hunting is going, and it’s a bit awkward to keep saying: “Oh, yes, fine…you know” whilst finding it ever so slightly embarrassing that nowhere you have applied to work has provided any feedback or even used the word “No”, if only so you can cross that one off the list and keep trying to find something else.

I don’t want to come across as whingeing, ungrateful, demotivated or entitled, or at least not all of those things at once. But I think that all job applicants are entitled to something – and that’s the courtesy of a response to their application to your agency or business.

In the meantime, fellow job seekers, keep smiling, keep trying and keep your spirits up. If nothing else by the end of lockdown, I can add “baking” and “writing” to my hobbies.

And, if I’m called to interview somewhere, what are my key qualities? Resilience. Getting back up. Believing that the best is yet to come.

Thank you for reading. Hopefully, I shall not be “resting” for too long.