Chloe Lamb's CV

Pull up a pew. We're deep diving into my CV - the litany of bizarre jobs I've had over the years. Typical of me, I didn't commit to one industry, and have spread myself across healthcare, hospitality, retail, education, and advertising. How have I managed to fit all this in, you ask? My average length of employment is embarrassingly short. That's how. No, I don't want to talk about it!

We'll go through this sensibly... saddle up.

Retail

Morrisons

Contending with an international pandemic, I bravely and boldly (irony intended) became a key worker. Picture this... it's 2020. Your fresher's year was cut short. You're trapped at home. Things have become so bleak, your university friends are playing darts on independent dart boards in their homes, on a video call. A dire landscape.

Ma and I decided I needed a job. I applied EVERYWHERE - Indeed had never seen anything like it. Waitrose? Rejected. John Lewis? Didn't even pass their test (although it is infamously hard, she tells herself soothingly). Tesco? Nope. Lidl warehouse operative? Absolutely not. Being rejected from jobs where you're superficially overqualified is a new level of humiliation.

Aaanyway, onto where our story starts. One morning I walked into my local Morrisons, feebly clutching my CV. I hit it off with the HR woman, and I started immediately. They had free breakfast every day which did wonders for my waistline. On my first shift, I got locked in a warehouse. Beyond embarrassing. More importantly, I met my manager Brad. Now, Brad was an impossibly handsome 24 year old. We hit it off immediately. When he was training me on the tills we both reached for 'quantity 2', and our hands touched. It was electric. ELECTRIC. When I clocked off he said 'you can't go, you're mine forever'. This seems like causal flirting right? It got worse. When I was on the floor stacking flour (glamorous, I know) he said 'so that's what you look like on your knees'.

Flabbergasted (but a bit turned on)

Did a wee social media stalk that night, just because, you know, if we were seriously committed to our relationship and would inevitably be getting married I had to get some visuals on his parents, family pets etc etc etc. Didn't expect to find 'Engaged to...'.

ENGAGED

Furious. Heartbroken. Ugh, men!

The Brad saga continued. He called me 'beautiful'. Then he gave me his hashbrown. Later, he called me 'fucking fit'. THEN, the next day he comes into the shop ON HIS DAY OFF (bizarre) with the fiance. Completely blanked me. Irritatingly, she was quite pretty.

Anyway, I started fashionably airing and ignoring him, and bizarrely he was even more attentive? Maybe the 'treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen' rhetoric has legs? Although I'd obviously never carry that knowledge into my actual love life #professionaldumpee.

There was also one time I was so flustered I put 3 diced steak packs in a vegan's pick n pack order. Got a bollocking. This was the result:

Other gems include a sweet old man telling me at the checkout:

"You have a wonderful personality. And it's not looks boys need, it's personality"

Sweet and rude in equal measure? I think so.

Those who know me can attest to my clumsiness. So perhaps a job which relies on using your hands and coordination was not my calling. It looks like Lloyd Grossman vomited all over me.

Tomato and bacon pasta sauce, for your viewing pleasure.

Amazon Flex

On the recommendation from my good friend James Morley, I decided to give delivery driving (but in your own car) a go. He claimed (and still does to anyone who will listen): 'Easiest money you'll ever make Chlo'. WRONG. I was just fundamentally bad at this job. The fleet of cars assemble, engines are revving, everyone's raring to go. You feel like you're in a film. The signal changes. You all pull into your loading stations. Only stalled once. Win.

Don't believe what they tell you about this being 'relaxed and easy'. It's a race. On multiple occasions I was told to drive out of the way so the fleet could disappear on their missions because I hadn't finished packing up the polo. Stressful. It was stressful. I love driving, so generally this was alright, but I was always so short on time I ended up hurling packages over garden fences, dropping them, delivering the wrong one to the wrong houses. Some deliveries were more fun than others; once I was hit on by a charming 70 year old. Would have been flattering if it wasn't for his wife standing next to him, shooting daggers at both of us.

Ahhh, thank God, that brings us to the end of retail.

Hospitality

Pink Moon, Exeter

Was hired as a supervisor (hilarious) after some slight CV enhancing. On my first shift I had to manually unclog a sink filled with vomit. I also served a vegetarian a pulled pork taco instead of a jackfruit one. I was fired.

My local pub

Decided to pick up a few shifts in our small village pub. Consistently dropped cutlery and/or plates, couldn't pull a proper pint. My boyfriend at the time surprised me with a birthday trip to Greece, and my limited availability that week gave them an excuse to never ever rota me ever again. I still live in same village and am obviously passionate about pub culture, so frequent it often. Every trip, however, is a little awkward.

The Royal, Sydney

During my post uni gap yah, I returned to Sydney in 2022. Got a job in a great pub in Paddo. I honestly cannot stress this enough, I am not cut out for hospitality. Lady ordered 2 glasses of pinot noir. Confused about the wine list, I overcharged them by $20, and swiftly arrived at their table with 2 glasses of white wine. My sudden episode meant I could resign before they fired me - fantastic result all around.

Healthcare

Healthcare Assistant

In an attempt to quell my fantasies of being a doctor and doing postgrad medicine, I decided to get a job in the hospital. And quell them it did. Couldn't stand the old people. As a HCA you're at the bottom of the pecking order. Darren's shat himself? You're up. Maureen has wet the bed? You're up. Tim's catheter needs changing? You're up. Sluice needs cleaning? That's your call babygirl.

Decided to pitch lower down on the age chart, and go to Paeds. Paediatric oncology specifically. Nights were especially bleak. Not much to say on this, as it was pretty harrowing.

Education

Teaching Assistant

Won't talk about this too much, as this blog explains it fully.

Long story short, I've worked in schools now for 2 years as a Teaching Assistant. It's bloody brilliant. The kids are crazy. It's rewarding. There are, however, a host of faux pas...

I capitalise on the free printing at school. I was returning some Calvin Klein bras. Pressed print. Got called into a classroom. Promptly forgot about it. The return form, with my name and BRA SIZE was just out on the side, for eveeeryone to see for about 4 hours. Mortifying.

Got told by a girl on the Y5 residential that I smelt like cigarettes (she wasn't wrong), and that her Mum wouldn't like me. I've also sworn infront of them countless times. Praying they haven't taken that home.

"Mummy, what does 'shit' mean?"

For the sake of my faith in my professional competency, we'll call it there. I could go on; from promoting Amazon Prime series with chalk murals and rampant sticker bombing around campus, to working in theatres, to spending 6 months in an ad agency in Covent Garden... but luckily for you, I won't. Ciao for now.