Following on from a ‘successful’ interview a few days back for the role of Housekeeper at Ashford Castle, I had a phone call from their HR department asking me to attend a trial.

My savings are disappearing rapidly and I can no longer pass over any remotest opportunity of a job, or a hang around for what I may consider to be a “better” job or “the one”.

A few weeks back, my bank balance would have been able to bear the brunt of my deliberations and fussiness, but this idealistic approach has now a become distinct luxury since I do not have the money to sustain it.

Right now, a housekeeping trial sounds quite possibly the best prospect in the world.

So the tables have gradually turned from me being in holiday mode at the start of this adventure, with spare resources and employing gentle personal discipline, to now being forced to seize any money-making prospect with both hands. I was hoping to avoid this increased feeling of financial pressure by finding a job sooner rather than later, but I can’t berate myself for the lack of job offers, as this is partially luck. The effort I have put in thus far I am happy with.

Now, when I say money making, I think of the the sort where, in exchange for my time and labour, I am fairly reimbursed with Euros.

When Ashford Castle thinks of trials however, it’s 7.5 hours unpaid, from 9am until 4.30pm.

The dress code for the trial consisted of smart black shoes, plain black socks, black trousers and smart black shirt.

I already had a black shirt, but the rest of the gear was not among my limited bits and bobs in the back of the camper van I travelled in to Ireland, so I would have to buy them. This arrangement of unpaid labour and unprovided uniform whiffed of beneficiary lopsidedness, and certainly not in my favour.

As a 5-star venue, I can understand there may possibly be a ready stream of interested potential employees waiting at the doors of the HR office, eager to bulk out their catering CVs with even the faintest mention of this top-of-the-range hotel. But this is absolutely no reason to be using peoples’ willingness without fair gratitude being shown in the form of money. In my opinion, a person’s good will should never be taken for granted. If anything, a 5-star hotel should be setting the standards when it comes to these kind of procedures, especially when you consider the advertised nightly cost of any of the rooms (I heard a rumour of €2500 a night for some rooms).

Uniforms and unpaid trials are two of my least favourite things, especially when mentioned in the same sentence; the thought “Rat-race” enters my mind followed by a long shudder. But with a bit of mental dexterity and self-delusion, another word, ‘investment’ can be forced into play; I invest in the uniform and 7.5hrs of my life = I get the job.

Repeating out loud the word ‘investment’ over and over for pretty much the entire 3 hour round trip to Galway city to buy myself the gear, I pushed through the mental barrier and parted with €130, plus fuel.

The evening before the trial, feeling fully prepared, I drove an hour to a campsite which is just up the road from the castle.

On the day itself, I arrived at the carpark directly outside the castle at 8.30am. It was quite amusing to me, changing into my work uniform in the back of the van, briefly showing my boxer shorts, while fancy Bentleys and Rolls Royces slickly slid past.

In my new uniform, I dutifully strode into the reception area and was greeted by a friendly, jolly fellow who asked how he could help. After a short conversation I met a member of Human Resources who said I’d have to take out my earring and put on a moth-eaten black polo shirt.

I obligingly took off the smart black shirt I was wearing and put on the rag. I took out my earring, feeling pleased that my shirt was the only item I hadn’t newly purchased in Galway.

And so the day began.

Following the HR administrator down to the basement and then into the canteen, I was introduced to a good natured lady who I was to “shadow” for the day (‘watch and help’ to you or I).

So, standing in the canteen, getting to know a bit more about the person I was to be working with, making small talk and asking questions about the job itself, another lady marched around the corner.

It was the same lady who had interviewed me.

She turned to me and said sternly:

“Your cup of tea will have to wait. There’s work to be done”.

I put the teacup and teabag I was holding, back down on the stainless steel worktop and laughed at her:

“Haha, well good morning to you too” I said.

There were a few stifled giggles from the other dozen or so people in the canteen.

Excuse me if I want to have a five pence cup of tea on my unpaid work day.

So, a great start.

I walked around this woman, following the nice house keeping lady I was to help for the day, up the stairs to our first room to clean.

I hoovered, dusted, polished, washed, swept, made beds, carried full and empty glass water bottles to and from store cupboards. Replaced toilet rolls and towels. Just what you’d expect really. An American guest tipped me and my colleague $20 each while cleaning his room. Very nice!

The day continued in this vein (minus the tips) until about 4.30pm after we’d cleaned I think, around 7 rooms.

I was told to wait back down in the canteen, for the “no cup of tea” lady, ready for a discussion about the day and how I’d got on. At this point, the wonderfully patient and helpful lady I’d been following around all day was about to head home and said I’d done very well and she hoped I got the job. I thanked her very much for her help and it would be great to work with her soon.

I waited half an hour for the “no cup of tea”lady .

Eventually, she sat down in front of me and asked what I felt about the job. I said “It’s great, and I’m more than happy to do it.”

“But you’re not out of breath.”

I lied and said:

“Well that’s because I mostly watched.”

In reality, I felt like saying, “what on earth do you expect when I’m not being paid.”

She then handed me a four page employment form which asked the standard stuff like “previous employer name, previous employer address, previous employer phone number, period worked at each place, main responsibilities, reason for leaving etc.”. She left me in the canteen to mull over this document and presumably fill everything in from memory.

I didn’t know my previous employer’s details off by heart, or the exact dates of things in order to fill in the form properly. I chased the lady back down the corridor and said “am I expected to fill this form in right now? Can I bring it in later tonight or tomorrow morning?”

“Why?” came the reply.

“Well, there’s rather a lot of it.”

“It would be best if you do it now.”

So I went back to the canteen and filled the thing in, in the space of about 2 minutes, writing mostly anything that came to mind. Nothing untrue, just not completely accurate or detailed. It was now about 5.45pm.

I breezily walked back into the woman’s office, saying “here you go”. She said “you have to take it to HR”.

I said “OK, but I thought you might want to glance at it first to check it over.”

“No, take it to HR please.”

In the HR office, I handed the form over and said “I suppose you want the shirt off my back too?” (Meaning the polo shirt I had on).

The girl just looked at me blankly while the woman next to her creased up with laughter.

“So what’s the next step?” I asked.

“Are you going to be in touch with me via email, or will I get a call from you or something?”

“After we have called your previous employer, we’ll be in touch.”

I handed the shirt and “trainee” name badge over and left.

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