Not so fast...

As job hunts go, mine hasn't been too trying thus far, but I can't say that I'm enjoying the thrill of the chase just yet. I've applied for several jobs, about half of which sound genuinely interesting, and I believe that my submissions thus far have been fitting and persuasive. Covering letters, in particular, are my zenith. Yet my self-confidence has been somewhat shaken this afternoon as I have had to face facts: despite years of writing experience, I still have room to improve.

This morning I put together an email to a recruitment consultant, which was in reference to a job that I'd seen advertised online. The message, I believed, was practically perfect. While being both concise and understated, it clearly set out my skills and illustrated my many talents. I was presenting myself, I was certain, as one who is precise, calm, logical and a host of other positive characteristics. Having read it through, convinced of its beauty, and with a slight hint of that particular type of satisfaction that borders on smugness, I sent it to its electronic destination.

Instantly, I saw an error.

It is a curious law of modern life that, in the calm light of day, such mistakes are completely invisible to the naked eye, but at precisely the moment that it becomes too late to make any corrections, our glaring idiocy becomes starkly apparent. We send the email and suddenly, with an humiliating simultaneity, the obviousness of our own stupidity seems to grow in font size, dwarfing the rest of the words and forcing us to confront our pathetic deficiencies.

Today, my error was a repeated phrase within the same paragraph. And the phrase that I accidentally duplicated was, blush-inducingly, the claim that I am a 'fast learner'. Written two or three sentences apart, as it was, I can't imagine that it's a deal-breaker, but nonetheless I flushed with an immediate remorse. Yet, I'm far too old to cry over spilt milk: it was too late and I resolved to move on.

Sadly, my efforts to forget about the glitsch were slightly more effective than I'd have liked. This afternoon, I telephoned the intended recipient of my email to ensure it had been received. I was informed that the company had been having server problems and that I should send it again. With an efficiency that may, in hindsight, have smacked of desperation, I resent my morning's email intact. As the space-age sound effect informed me that it had been launched from the outbox, once again, I experienced that hot stab of embarrassment that I had just missed a one-off opportunity to make my earlier mistake disappear. It is with a smidgen of newly-acquired writing humility that I must admit that, perhaps, I'm not such a fast learner after all.