I'm sorting through around 60 applications for two positions. They're all manila envelopes with hand-written notebook pages of cover letters, followed by photocopies of certificates, and usually a computer-printed CV. Occassionally a CV is hand-written, or an application comes without an envelope. But they all are surprisingly similar. Even the handwriting is largely the same, since it's clear that they paid someone to write their cover letter for them. The candidate may come later for an interview and not even speak English, let alone write in beautifully precise paragraphs.
The cover letters blur together, all detailing people's ages, religions, numbers of children, and all sort of other discriminatory data that I'm supposed to not pay any attention to, at least in the culture where I grew up. Phrases such as "God bless you most" and "I will be the best candidate" and "God willing, you will give me this position because I need a job" all appear, sometimes multiple times in the same letter, as I sort through.
We usually tackle the triage of the applications as a team. Last month, we sorted over 200 applications for the 2 positions of watchman available. We narrowed it down to 30 candidates to interview, with 10 applications kept as backup in case we couldn't get through to an applicant. Everyone wants to work for us, while the CVs show the effects of South Sudan's ranking as the least literate country in the world (at least according to wikipedia). There are so few jobs in the country, due to instability and underdevelopment, that people's CVs read as a list of NGOs. Reason for leaving job: closure of project (lack of funds). Also popular are government jobs: survey taker, census officer, election ballot watcher, town crier. These last for a matter of days. Fewer still are the teachers, or clergy.
Many have never had a job that they can put on the CV. Their CV is fleshed out with education details, and courses attended. "Fire extinguisher training" is next to "two day workshop for volunteers on volunteers document" (I don't know what that means), after "Certificate of appreciation for South Sudan Referendum." CVs include hobbies, as people uphold the standard format of CVs as taught by experience, internet courses, and common knowledge. Hobbies listed include reading newspapers, swimming, listening to the radio, sleeping.
The cover letters finish:
"I shall be greatful if you recruit me to be a member of your staffs."
"My hope be with you forever if you are accept this my application to employ me under your controll"
"May God bless you if you put my application on consideration with much appreciation from your desk."
They talk about being jobless, they talk about feeding their families, they talk about working hard. And dozens after dozens are put in the reject pile because I cannot take them all. I must decide who can do a physical job based on these precious scraps of paper they have given to us, for us to sort and discard as they all become anonymous.
I feel like "The Man," and I hate it. And I start to understand the other side of the coin, the big corporations, and I hate that I can comiserate. What a weird position I have found myself in, at the end of the earth, as a humanitarian. I guess I'm not working for the Man, I'm just becoming him.
The cover letters blur together, all detailing people's ages, religions, numbers of children, and all sort of other discriminatory data that I'm supposed to not pay any attention to, at least in the culture where I grew up. Phrases such as "God bless you most" and "I will be the best candidate" and "God willing, you will give me this position because I need a job" all appear, sometimes multiple times in the same letter, as I sort through.
We usually tackle the triage of the applications as a team. Last month, we sorted over 200 applications for the 2 positions of watchman available. We narrowed it down to 30 candidates to interview, with 10 applications kept as backup in case we couldn't get through to an applicant. Everyone wants to work for us, while the CVs show the effects of South Sudan's ranking as the least literate country in the world (at least according to wikipedia). There are so few jobs in the country, due to instability and underdevelopment, that people's CVs read as a list of NGOs. Reason for leaving job: closure of project (lack of funds). Also popular are government jobs: survey taker, census officer, election ballot watcher, town crier. These last for a matter of days. Fewer still are the teachers, or clergy.
Many have never had a job that they can put on the CV. Their CV is fleshed out with education details, and courses attended. "Fire extinguisher training" is next to "two day workshop for volunteers on volunteers document" (I don't know what that means), after "Certificate of appreciation for South Sudan Referendum." CVs include hobbies, as people uphold the standard format of CVs as taught by experience, internet courses, and common knowledge. Hobbies listed include reading newspapers, swimming, listening to the radio, sleeping.
The cover letters finish:
"I shall be greatful if you recruit me to be a member of your staffs."
"My hope be with you forever if you are accept this my application to employ me under your controll"
"May God bless you if you put my application on consideration with much appreciation from your desk."
They talk about being jobless, they talk about feeding their families, they talk about working hard. And dozens after dozens are put in the reject pile because I cannot take them all. I must decide who can do a physical job based on these precious scraps of paper they have given to us, for us to sort and discard as they all become anonymous.
I feel like "The Man," and I hate it. And I start to understand the other side of the coin, the big corporations, and I hate that I can comiserate. What a weird position I have found myself in, at the end of the earth, as a humanitarian. I guess I'm not working for the Man, I'm just becoming him.
